How to Use Autistic Traits If You Don't Like but Want to Exercise
A simple hack how to employ your Autistic traits to work for you instead of against you.
We all know (at least theoretically) that exercise is good. It's good for the body and for the mind.
But what if, like me, you don't like it?
You don't like it so much that the mere thought of exercise wakes up the inner resistance monster growling within you and you'd rather do something else unpleasant, like washing the dishes, or sorting out your wardrobe.
My brain treats exercising for the sake of exercise as the worst possible use of my time and strongly recommends against itâbecause life is too short and there are many more interesting things to do than physically torturing myself on purpose.
In short, my brain sees it as self-harm (And I've done the actual self-harm.)
Going out for a walk to walk?
I could be working on something actually productive.
Strength training?
Why would I want to make my muscles weep?
A little cardio?
Getting out of breath, too hot, and sweaty? Unless I need to catch a trainâhell no!
Swimming then? You love swimming!
Er... yeah but the hair takes too long to dry, and I'd need to actually GET to the swimming pool in the first placeâŚ
You see I'm Autisticâ
âAnd ADHDâ, pipes in ADHD.
âYes, that too, but this time it's not about you.â
âWhy not?
âDo you really want me to write about you?â
âOK, ok I'll shut up.â
and executive dysfunction is real. If it says âNoâ there's nothing I can do to make it say âYesâ.
Me: 'C'mon let's do a bit of strength training. Think of all that flab getting busted.'
Executive Dysfunction: âNo.â
Me: âHow about a gentle jog? Imagine what good it can do for the heart and LDL.â
Executive Dysfunction: âNo.â
Me: âA round of Sun Salutation* then? Increase physical flexibility and decrease anxiety?â
Executive Dysfunction: âNo.â
*Yoga routine
One way to circumvent that stubborn croak is to throw a masquerade.
It's as simple as guising the physical activity as a means to the goal and not the goal itself.
My dog wants to go for a walk. Yay, the physical activity has just become a necessity. Itâs not an exercise at all, right?
I need more tea. I go to the kitchen, put the kettle on and actively move while waiting for it to boilâbecause idle waiting, in some circumstances, is even worse than exercise.
âThat's on you ADHD.â
âYay!â, cheered ADHD.
That's all great and dandy but I take my dog for a walk once a day and the pace of that walk is even slower than a stroll (Not my fault. My dog is big into crime scene investigation, and everything on the way has to be thoroughly analysed.), so I don't imagine it does much.
I drink a lot of tea but:
1. I have a huge mug (so I don't have to make tea too often) and
2. I fill the kettle with only enough water to fill that mug, so I don't have to wait for longer than necessary (drive for efficiency reigns supreme).
As you can see that's something but not a lot or enough.
So, what do I do?
I do elliptical every morning.
Hang on a minute but you said you can't make your executive dysfunction do it! That doesn't make sense!
I hear ya. But there's another way to cheat that executive grumpâuse a routine.
When a routine is formed, executive dysfunction has no authority to question it or say 'No'. Routine is the boss who calls the shots.
Building a routine can be painstaking depending on how it comes about but once it becomes a habit, it's difficult to budge and that's the point.
To facilitate the cementing and execution of the routine where I do the elliptical involves the following:
1. I started exercising with 5 minutes and once I got to a stage where 5 minutes was doable, I started adding 1 second each day. This addition is so minute it's imperceptible from day to day but overtime it builds up.
Now, when my brain sees 6 or 7 minutes it doesn't freak out because it knows it had been built second by second. It knows that each day it is capable of going for one second longer with ease, so it doesn't see any issue.
It even gives me a quiet sense of accomplishment because when I see the longer time on the clock I think to myself: 'Wow I am able to do that!'
2. I use noise cancelling headphones with a built-in sound of waves that I can turn on.
I love sea, so listening to the waves brings me joy, while noise cancelling muffles the sound of the elliptical.
The result is I no longer receive audible feedback of me exercising, instead all I have is poor proprioception which is unable to tell me how fast I go because the sound of it is absent. So, I go at a pace that feels fine-ish (itâs actually not that hard to squeeze in extra duress) for the body and is not dictated by the audible rhythm.
Additionally, now that I can't hear the exercise, the monotropism allows me to refocus and drift away in thoughts. So, I spend time thinking of what I'm going to work on today according to my to-do list.
And I become totally unaware of what the body is doing. And then the alarm goes off and the exercise is over!
3. Finally, there's a dangling carrot that puts me on that elliptical without any resistance in a form of cold shower.
Did I hear you gasp?
Before I started doing cold shower a couple of weeks back, I would've been gasping too.
Despite being cold-sensitive, it didn't take me long to fall in love with the cold shower.
Taking it right after the exercise is a huge dopamine delivery. It's such a wonderful feeling to cool down the body. Also, itâs like an insta injection of energy, and happiness.
So, in order to ingrain the routine, I developed a belief (scientifically it's untrue but that's the nature of any belief) that if I took the cold shower without the exercise part it wouldn't feel so good.
Therefore, to have a cold shower, exercise is a prerequisite.
Those three elements help me build and reinforce the routine.
And when you're autistic the all-or-nothing thinking makes it extremely difficult to break the routine. Because falling off the wagon just once wipes the count of how long you'd been doing the thing for. So, the prospect of having to start over from scratch is too dreadful rather than just carrying on.
TL; DR and to summarise:
- Start the exercise with the length of time or number of repeats that feel comfortable. If it's 1 minute or 2 repeatsâit's fine. The key is you can build it up gradually. And I mean, in literally imperceptible increments that add up over time.
- Build it into a routine or build a routine around it. Routine is in our blood.
- Take advantage of poor proprioception to not exactly be aware of what your body is doing.
- Use monotropism to shift the focus away from the body exercising
- Have a juicy reward waiting for you when you're done. (Preferably not something edible with lots of carbs or calories.)
- Use the power of all-or-nothing thinking to keep the routine going.
So, if like me you don't like to exercise but you know it would be beneficial for you, use your Autistic traits to your advantage. Make them work for you and see how much value they can provide.
They are our gifts.
And I am grateful for them.
Iâd love to knowâHave you got ways to use your Autistic traits to help you do something you donât like doing but want/need to?
Snail Trail News Bulletin
As an AuDHD multipod (person with multiple interests and this time round with emphasis on ADHDââYaaay!â squealed ADHD.) recently I got swept by three things that combine and overlap so strongly I treat them as a one thing built on three pillars. But thatâs not the point. The point is that this new thing shoved the Glees aside. Whether temporarily or permanentlyâI donât know. I cannot tell future. But in order to be transparent about the fact that I have given myself permission to be unpredictably swept by currents of curiosity I want to reflect it in my Substack descriptions, so that will be changing soon(ish).
I donât think the title Gleeful Snail Trail requires any updates or changes. It still represents the positive nature of what I stand forâaccepting, celebrating, and empowering of being wired differently. Showing that it is possible to be who we were meant to be without the mask, to stand in our truth, and draw strength from that connection.







