What Counts as Exercise? Maybe We've Been Asking the Wrong Question.

It happened again.

You were planning to go to your favorite yoga class or spin class. You even packed your workout clothes before leaving for work.

But then your shift at the hospital ran late. Or your child's baseball practice ended early, and you had to pick them up. Or traffic was heavier than usual. Or you were simply exhausted after another full day.

You look at the clock; there is no way you were going to make the class.

So... what do you do? You're standing at a decision point.

Maybe you could still fit in a 30-minute walk. Maybe you could pull up a YouTube workout when you get home. Maybe you could do a quick strength session with the dumbbells collecting dust in the corner.

Or... Do you decide it's just not worth it? You're too tired. There's not enough time. It won't count unless you can do the whole workout. 

If you've ever found yourself standing at that crossroads, you're not alone. These are the decisions many of us face, especially in midlife. Careers become more demanding. We may be caring for children, aging parents, or both. Our bodies change. Our energy changes. Time feels increasingly scarce.

But what if the biggest obstacle at that moment isn't the unexpected interruption?

What if the standards we're holding ourselves to aren't actually our own?

That question has stayed with me because, for most of my adult life, movement wasn't something I struggled with. I loved going to the gym. I took classes, lifted weights, biked, ran, and practiced yoga. Movement wasn't just something I did. It was part of who I was.

Then came what I think of as the perfect storm. The pandemic, caregiving responsibilities, burnout after more than three decades as a nurse and nurse practitioner, menopause and finally, a broken wrist and an osteoporosis diagnosis.

When the gyms and yoga studios closed, I bought free weights, determined to keep exercising at home. They sat in the corner for months, collecting dust.

I couldn't understand it. I wasn't someone who didn't believe in exercise. I knew the benefits. I'd experienced them for years.

So why couldn't I get myself started again? Honestly, I was baffled. And if I'm being honest, a little demoralized.

Looking back, I don't know whether all-or-nothing thinking was the reason I struggled to get moving again. There were so many factors at play. I was burned out. My routines had disappeared during the pandemic. I was navigating menopause and caregiving responsibilities. I was trying to understand what an osteoporosis diagnosis meant for my future, and whether the ways I had always exercised were still appropriate.

It wasn't one thing. It was many things converging at once.

As I immersed myself in health coaching and behavioral science, I discovered that researchers have been studying this exact challenge: the gap between wanting to exercise and following through.

Research suggests that nearly eight out of ten people intend to exercise, yet almost half don’t follow through on those intentions. Even among those who begin an exercise program, many stop within a relatively short period of time.

One study caught my attention because it explored something called exercise-related all-or-nothing thinking. The researchers describe exercise-related all-or-nothing thinking as a pattern that occurs when we cannot or are unwilling to follow an exercise plan exactly as intended and choose not to exercise at all rather than modify the plan.

It often shows up in everyday situations. Maybe we're running late and miss the beginning of a class. Maybe we're too tired to do the workout we had planned. The original plan no longer feels workable, but instead of adapting it, we abandon it altogether.

Rather than asking, "What could I do today?" the question quietly becomes, "Can I still do what I planned?" And when the answer is no, exercise may not happen at all.

But the researchers didn't stop there. They asked a deeper question. Why do so many of us think this way? Their answer fascinated me.

For decades, we've been surrounded by messages about what "counts" as exercise. The current Physical Activity Guidelines for Americans 2nd edition, recommend at least 150 minutes of moderate-intensity physical activity each week, along with muscle-strengthening activities on two or more days each week.

But they also emphasize something equally important: Move more. Sit less. Some physical activity is better than none.

Yet somewhere along the way, many of us seem to have internalized a different message. Thirty uninterrupted minutes. A vigorous workout, breaking a sweat, going to the gym.

To be clear, these forms of exercise have tremendous value. Strength training, moderate-to-vigorous physical activity, and activities that challenge our cardiovascular system remain important for our health. The goal isn't to replace them.

The problem arises when we begin to believe they are the only forms of movement that matter. When those become our only definition of "real exercise," we may overlook the value of adapting when life, or our bodies, make the original plan impossible.

The outdated messaging about exercise that “counts” came from many places: public health campaigns, healthcare professionals, researchers, fitness magazines, gyms, social media, and friends. Most were well-intentioned and designed to improve our health.

But over time, many of us may have unconsciously absorbed these recommendations as rules instead of guidelines. Rules about what "real exercise" looks like. Rules about what counts. Rules about what doesn't.

If that's true, it changes the way we understand those everyday decision points.

When life gets in the way and our original plan falls apart, we may not simply think, "I don't have enough time." We may also be thinking, often without realizing it, "If I can't do it the right way, it's not worth doing at all."

It also raises another possibility. Perhaps the quality we need most isn't more discipline, or more motivation or more willpower.

Perhaps it's flexibility.

Michelle Segar, a researcher who has spent decades studying motivation and sustainable physical activity, believes we've been celebrating the wrong hero.

We often admire discipline, determination, and willpower when it comes to exercise. Those qualities certainly have value. But when life inevitably disrupts our plans, research suggests that another quality may deserve just as much attention: flexibility.

Segar describes flexible coping as looking for another, perhaps less perfect way to pursue our larger goal rather than giving up when the original plan no longer works. That idea stopped me. For so long, I assumed the answer was to become more disciplined.

Maybe what I really needed was to become more adaptable. That shift in perspective also made me curious about something else. Had the science changed? Or had my beliefs simply not caught up?

Years ago, physical activity was thought to "count" only if it was done in bouts of at least ten minutes. As more evidence emerged, that recommendation changed. We now know that physical activity of any duration contributes to our health.

The current Physical Activity Guidelines for Americans 2nd edition put it this way: "If that's more than you can do right now, do what you can. Even 5 minutes of physical activity has real health benefits."

If that's what the science is telling us today, why do so many of us still feel that five minutes doesn't count? Maybe the science has evolved, and we either didn’t know or haven’t fully accepted the new reality. 

That question brought me back to my own experience. Looking back, I realized there was another belief I had never questioned. For years, I wouldn't have considered walking to be exercise. Compared to the forms of exercise I was used to, walking seemed almost...too ordinary. It didn't feel like it counted. Midlife changed that. Menopause changed that. Osteoporosis changed that.

Today I walk my two dogs every day. Some walks are long. Some are short. Some are brisk. Others are simply a chance to move my body, clear my mind, and spend time outside.

Years ago, I might have dismissed those walks because they didn't fit my old definition of exercise. Today, I see them differently. Walking didn't suddenly become valuable because I changed my mind. It became more meaningful because my body, my health, and my life had changed.

Running no longer felt like the right choice for me. I needed a different way to move, and eventually, I learned to value that. I don't see that as lowering my standards. I see it as broadening my understanding of what supports my health.

The values of discipline, determination, and willpower can lead us to pretending that our bodies haven’t changed. The values of flexibility and adaptability help us respond wisely to the body you have today. And there's another reason I think this matters. One of the central insights of behavioral science is that exercise is a surprisingly complex behavior.

It's not like brushing your teeth or taking a daily medication. It's not even like making your morning coffee. Those habits usually happen in a stable environment. They rely on familiar cues and, over time, require relatively little planning or decision-making.

Exercise is different. It competes with work, family responsibilities, changing schedules, weather, pain, energy and the changing realities of our lives.

Every day asks something new of us. Every day is an opportunity to ask ourselves: "How am I going to move today?"

The answer changes. Some days it's a strength workout, some days it's yoga, some days it's a walk with the dogs, some days it's five minutes between meetings. Some days it's stretching. And some days it's simply getting outside for fresh air.

Perhaps that's the essence of adaptability. Not giving up on movement just because life changed. Not insisting on yesterday's plan when today's reality looks different. Not pretending our bodies are the same as they were twenty years ago.

But continuing to move in ways that fit the reality of our lives. Because neither our lives nor our bodies stay the same. Perhaps that's what a sustainable relationship with physical activity looks like. Not doing the same thing every day. Not chasing perfection. But continuing to ask ourselves one simple question: How am I going to move today?

Have you ever wondered why staying active feels harder than it should?

The Move Forward with Confidence Assessment can help you better understand your relationship with movement and identify what's getting in the way.