We all know that regular movement is good for us. The evidence on this is not in question — physical activity supports mood, sleep, cardiovascular health, and cognitive function, and most of us could recite the health benefits without needing to look them up. And yet knowing this does very little to make us do it consistently. If information alone changed behaviour, gyms would be full and step counts would be high. Clearly, something else is going on.
I value health and wellbeing, and part of that for me is being active most days of the week. But like many of my clients, I can find it genuinely difficult to get myself out of bed for an early walk. My mind offers up a familiar narrative — I’m too tired, I don’t have time, I’ll go tomorrow, it’s too hot, too cold, too early. There’s an inner sloth that would much rather I stay exactly where I am, warm and still, for another hour before I have to face the day. And if I’m honest, I don’t always win that argument. Some mornings the sloth gets its way
This is worth sitting with, because it tells us something important about how motivation actually works. We tend to assume that motivation comes first — that we need to feel ready, energised, or inspired before we act. Behavioural activation, one of the more robust approaches within cognitive behavioural therapy, works from a different premise: that motivation is not usually the cause of action, but its consequence. We don’t wait to feel like moving and then move — we move, and the feeling of readiness tends to follow a few minutes in. In fact, if we wait for the feeling of motivation to arise, it may never arise, and we may never take action. The less we do, the less we feel like doing, and the cycle strengthens making it even harder to get started.
So what do we do with the inner sloth’s commentary, given that arguing with it rarely works? This is where Acceptance and Commitment Therapy (ACT) offers something useful. ACT distinguishes between having a thought and being fused with it — treating it as an instruction we must obey rather than a mental event passing through. “I’m too tired” is not a fact about our capacity; it’s a thought, generated by a mind that is, quite reasonably, trying to conserve energy and avoid discomfort. That’s what minds do. The problem isn’t that we have this thought — everybody does — the problem is when we treat it as binding or a command to action.
“I’m having the thought that I’m too tired” — noticing the thought as a thought, rather than a directive we’re obliged to follow.
This small shift creates just enough space to act differently, even while the thought is still present. None of this requires the discomfort to disappear first. ACT doesn’t ask us to feel enthusiastic before we move; it asks whether we’re willing to make room for a bit of resistance in service of something that matters to us.
This is the values piece. Values are not goals we tick off — they’re the ongoing direction we want our life to take. If health and vitality matter to us, then getting up on a cold morning isn’t really about the walk itself; it’s a small, concrete act of moving toward that value, even while part of us — our Inner Sloth — would rather not. Willingness, in ACT terms, means we can hold the discomfort of getting up and the value of being active at the same time, without needing one to cancel out the other.
This small shift creates just enough space to act differently, even while the thought is still present. None of this requires the discomfort to disappear first. ACT doesn’t ask us to feel enthusiastic before we move; it asks whether we’re willing to make room for a bit of resistance in service of something that matters to us. This is the values piece. Values are not goals we tick off — they’re the ongoing direction we want our life to take. If health and vitality matter to us, then getting up on a cold morning isn’t really about the walk itself; it’s a small, concrete act of moving toward that value, even while part of us — our Inner Sloth — would rather not. Willingness, in ACT terms, means we can hold the discomfort of getting up and the value of being active at the same time, without needing one to cancel out the other.
LOWERING THE ACTIVATION ENERGY
- Lay out the walking shoes the night before, so the first step doesn't require a decision.
- Schedule the walk at a fixed time rather than waiting until we feel ready.
- Commit to just the first five minutes — the decision to continue is easier than the decision to begin.
- Notice the tired thought without negotiating with it: "there's that thought again."
It’s also worth saying plainly that this doesn’t always work, and that’s not a sign of failure. Some mornings the sloth wins, and we stay in bed. What matters more than any single missed session is what we do next — whether we treat the lapse as evidence we’ve failed at this altogether, or as one data point in a much longer pattern. Self-compassion here isn’t about letting ourselves off the hook; it’s about recognising that consistency is built from repeated small returns to the value, not from an unbroken streak.
We’re not separate from this struggle, offering advice from some place outside it — we’re in it too, most mornings, negotiating with the same inner sloth. The aim isn’t to eliminate the resistance. It’s to keep choosing the walk anyway, a little more often than not.
None of this is specific to exercise alone. The same pattern shows up wherever there’s a gap between what we value and what we’re currently willing to do — the meal prep left until the last minute, the doctor visit we keep deferring, the change to eating habits pushed to tomorrow because today doesn’t feel right. The inner sloth isn’t tied to exercise; it turns up wherever the first step feels bigger than it actually is. The same moves apply regardless of the task: lower the activation energy, notice the avoidant thought without negotiating with it, and let readiness follow the doing rather than wait for it to arrive first.
