Is exercise REALLY worth the effort?

The challenge of trying to be healthy when you have executive dysfunction.

I keep thinking I should cancel my gym membership.

One of the rare times I actually worked up a sweat. Or at least a dew. I let my partner train me while we were on holiday and so had the wonderful constant free childcare of my mum. It was really fun AND he kept telling me off for lying down and looking at my phone.

Every time I go and actually work out, I feel better afterwards - stronger, calmer, smugger. I know this. I’ve learned many times that exercise is worth the effort. But I still have to drag myself there like I’m hauling a dead weight. (Spoiler: the dead weight is me.)

And the gym. Ugh. I don’t know. A part of me hates it.

Shouldn’t we all be outside? I think.

Couldn’t I be running through trees? Breeze in my hair?

Mightn’t we talk to each other?

But when I don’t have a gym membership I don’t run through the trees that much at all. I just spend more time sitting on my arse. Writing, snacking, bonding with my pets.

So eventually, I get another subscription.

The last time I did this loop that ends up with gym membership, I impulsively decided to get a more luxurious gym.

That’s right, people, I joined David Lloyd.

It was an impulsive, ill-considered move because I was well-pregnant and hadn’t talked it through with my partner (who actually does that before important decisions?) and we couldn’t exactly afford it with a baby hurtling towards us.

"So what do you think? Can I sign you up today?” the gym manager or whoever said, and as all the above hesitations ran through my head, I smiled brightly.

“Sure! Let’s do it!”

Salespeople love my ingrained people-pleasing habit.

My partner was like, You’ve signed us up for what? So I offered to pay the whole membership. I was still unused to having a decent salary, and convinced I was rich adjacent.

That was over two years ago, and at one point I did almost get defined arm muscles (still not sure what they are called. Oh yeah! Biceps!)

“You’re looking ripped!” a friend said to me, one day when we were out walking the dog, and I finally understood what all those reps had been about.

It has never happened again, but it was amazing.

I’ve tried cardio tennis (actually quite fun, but I forgot about it until writing this sentence), zumba (fucking hate cos dyspraxia), pickle ball (love, but my friend pointed out the old people there play it like tennis and I don’t want to learn bad habits because then how will I become a champion?) and I’ve had a good run with Body Pump - I think that was responsible for the wisp of bicep that began to emerge, actually. But still.

It is SO HARD to get myself there. Deep resistance every time. And I often forget what I need or am so stressed by the time I get there that I have lost the modicum of motivation I generated for exercising.

Sometimes when it’s ‘my turn to train’ I just lie down on a mat and look at my phone (note to self, must do something about chronic phone addiction.)

Sometimes I sleep on one of the sun loungers.

Often I do two laps of the pool - that’s right TWO, mother-flippers - and then I write (okay, look at my phone) on a sun lounger.

I’m not saying this is bad. I’m saying that I pay a lot of money for this experience.

And maybe it’s time to struggle to engage with exercise in a different way.

What do you think?

Help me.

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My energy situation is weird. Only this week, I’ve stopped breastfeeding through the night, so I haven’t slept through the night for over two years.

More because pregnancy was a sleep nightmare too.

And Au-dhd plus major introversion means I never know if I’m tired-tired, emotionally-tired, overstimulated, under-stimulated or just flagging because I’ve had too many giant marhmallows and not enough solitude.

Exercise is sold to us as this magic fix - endorphins! dopamine! resilience! -but no one talks about how much executive function it takes to even get out the door.

The amount of times I have to run back into the house because I forgot something for the gym could actually be my main exercise for the day.

And yet, I know it’s essential.

A non-negotiable.

Not just for me, but for my kid. Because when I feel stronger in my body, I cope better with everything and my body feels better too. Live longer, etc. Better quality of life in the longer term. Also hotter.

I know the benefits of exercise.

Getting sober all those years ago, I signed up for the obligatory charitable 10k. I went running or swimming on Friday nights and felt superior to all the pissheads still smoking in the beer gardens across the city (and nation). I got pretty good at downward dog.

Exercise is a part of my life now in a way it never was when I was a drinker.

I haven’t quit. Yet. I’m not going to, because I’m not stupid.

But I’m also not going three times a week and sometimes, if the baba gets ill or I don’t get any sleep, I don’t even go one time a week.

I go when I can. Do what I can.

It’s a while since I just parked my car at the gym, climbed into the back seat and napped. So I guess that’s something.

But maybe the gym, even the luxurious gym, just isn’t my cup of tea.

In my unmasking challenge, it’s something that I keep thinking about letting go.

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This is a post asking you to make my minor life decisions for me and also to say: if you’re also stuck between “exercise helps”, “I can’t be arsed,” and “I cannot keep track of my gym clothes and padlock”, I see you.

You’re not doing it wrong.

And maybe the effort is worth it.

Or maybe it isn’t.

But either way, you’re not failing!

And I am probably going to end my gym membership.

Okay, wish me luck. Today, I’m signed up for tennis.

Chelsey x

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📚 Chelsey Flood is the author of award-winning novels Infinite Sky and Nightwanderers, and a senior lecturer in creative writing at UWE. She is currently working on a book for Jessica Kingsley Publishers about the connection between undiagnosed neurodiversity and addiction + her first domestic noir. 📚