Hey team — it’s been a minute since I’ve sent you a voice memo. I thought I’d make one for this week’s piece in case you’d like to listen instead of read. Reminder that you can listen to audio from Substack newsletters in the Substack app or in your favorite podcast player: Here’s how.
Movement, technically, is free. Most of us should theoretically be able to walk, run, dance, stretch, and move pretty much anywhere. Household objects can work really well as weights; my new (very funny) Instagram obsession, fitness coach Rachel Rogerson, is constantly sharing examples of this:
Of course, not everyone actually does have the space, safety, or time to move. And: We all know that even a small financial investment in exercise can make a big difference for many of us — whether that’s an affordable gym membership, a set of weights to keep in your home workout space, or, ahem, a $7/mo or $70/year subscription to a really friendly newsletter with body-neutral weekly workouts and evidence-based movement guidance.
These small investments can support our movement goals both by making exercise more accessible and comfortable to do and by giving us a slight kick in the pants to make sure our money doesn’t go to waste.
What I want to talk about today, though, is much larger movement-related investments. And I almost didn’t want to talk about this because I hate the idea of high barriers to entry for movement, and many of these investments are simply out of reach for a huge chunk of us. I don’t have a good answer for that, and it really sucks — just a symptom of our broken system that continues to keep wellbeing behind a velvet rope.
But yeah, for better or for worse, I’m talking about investments that, even for those privileged few who can afford them, probably feel like a HUGE, daunting expense, but that may actually be necessary for progress. I don’t mean, like, a Peloton bike (expensive, fun, probably not necessary) — I mean things like:
Working with a highly qualified, highly specialized physical therapist, or other practitioner who can work wonders with your tricky musculoskeletal issue — but doesn’t take insurance.
Buying a package of sessions with a knowledgeable personal trainer who can create programming and teach movement tailored to your body, your unique injury history, a special condition, etc.
Seeking out something like eating disorder treatment, or private therapy with a specialist who can help you heal your relationship with your body so that it’s actually safe and supportive, not punishing and triggering, for you to exercise.
And, sometimes, surgery: things like tear repairs, knee or hip replacements, and other procedures that may make it more comfortable or even safer to exercise once you recover. (But that require really good insurance, and often things like childcare, access to PTO, etc.)
These investments not only cost money, they also take time, which is its own precious resource. Appointments (and travel to and from them), recovery time, and in the case of surgical procedures or any kind of inpatient therapy, time away from work, family, and other important activities: It’s all annoying and inconvenient.
In many cases, there’s also fear involved. It’s scary to approach a surgery; it can be daunting to consider therapy that will involve diving deep into an issue that has brought you so much harm and trauma. PT sometimes hurts! And even personal training with the nicest, most supportive trainer can feel really intimidating before you begin.
What I’ve observed as a movement professional is that even folks who truly need and can actually afford investments like these often just aren’t willing to make them. They think (or hope) they can power through and get what they need from a group fitness class or a YouTube workout, despite their tricky set of physical and/or psychological circumstances. Or they feel like personal attention is too indulgent, like taking a private (Pilates) jet instead of flying coach in that group mat class.
Some of this, I think, stems from an understandable but sometimes unhelpful framework around finances. We want to save money! We want to be really careful about what we spend. So we go for the cheapest option and hope for the best, even if we have means for more.
If you’re in this boat, I’d like to offer you a gentle reframe. I reached out to my friend Lindsey Stanberry of The Purse for a bit of a money perspective on this, and she said: “I think you could compare it to any big investment. Buying a house. Going back to school. Even smaller things, like buying higher quality things that you want to use forever.”
Let’s explore the house example: Let’s say you’re renting an apartment with some issues — maybe the roof leaks, and the landlord never takes much action on fixing it (shoutout to my friend, former upstairs neighbor, and HTM subscriber Sarah, who knows that this is a real-life example from when we lived in an ancient building where it literally rained indoors).
And let’s say you are someone with the means to purchase a home, but the huge investment of the down payment, the closing costs, even just the extreme hassle of moving, feels like such a big and scary deal that you decide to just keep renting. Sure, in the short term, you “save” money. But as time goes by, and that roof leak gets worse, more and more of your stuff gets ruined, and you may even have to invest in buckets, tarps, and DIY fixes to try to keep as much water out as possible. You’re actually spending quite a lot, not really living all that well, and if you’d gone ahead and spent that chunk of change to buy a new place, you could have been living more comfortably (or at least dryly) — and having your asset increase in value over time. Your effort to save money ends up losing you money.
I’ll give you an example from my own work as a movement professional. “Kim,” a client at the studio where I teach, came to my Pilates class for the first time a few months ago. She said she’d signed up for an unlimited pass and was excited to try all the classes at the studio. But as the session went on — Kim was the only student who showed up that day, for which I was extremely grateful — she revealed that she was about a year postpartum and had a very large unhealed diastasis recti and an umbilical hernia. She’d had a few sessions with a PT in the kind of busy, big-box clinic that doesn’t give you much 1:1 attention, and it didn’t seem like she’d gotten much, if anything, out of it: I walked her through some diaphragmatic breath and transverse abdominis activation, and she said it was the first time she’d ever understood how to do it. Kim’s hernia protruded noticeably with even the lightest loading or pressure: I didn’t even attempt the traditional mat sequence with her because most of the exercises, even modified, introduced far more intra-abdominal pressure than she could manage. It was clear to me that at the very least, she needed some much higher-quality 1:1 physical therapy, and that she likely needed a hernia repair surgery. If she wanted to exercise, she needed to work with a highly knowledgeable personal trainer who, ideally, could be in direct contact with her surgeon and/or physical therapist to create a holistic movement plan. The idea of having Kim popping into and out of group fitness classes (which normally have far more than just one student, and thus minimal opportunity for close observation and support from the instructor) made me extremely concerned.
You probably know that I subscribe to a philosophy of movement optimism: I believe our bodies are so much more capable and resilient than we usually give them credit for, and I try not to instill fear around movement. But there are certain situations that warrant extra care and special attention: serious injuries, recurrent unexplained pain, major pelvic floor dysfunction, active eating disorders, and yes, hernias. An untreated hernia can worsen over time, especially with exercise that introduces a lot of intra-abdominal pressure, and lead to serious complications.
Kim was actually willing to spend a pretty good chunk of change on her unlimited class pass — like that leaky rental apartment you’re throwing money at every month — without realizing that not all of those classes would help her move closer to her goals of healing her diastasis and hernia (or that some of them could be actively harmful). The idea of surgery felt daunting, hard, expensive, and too complicated: It would require time away from work and family, and then she would probably need rehab on the other side.
But just powering through group classes without this investment on the front end could easily make things so much worse for Kim — leading, potentially, to a more severe hernia, a trickier surgery, and longer recovery time.
So: I’m hoping this is not you! I’m hoping you have a very uncomplicated body situation — or at least your typical run-of-the-mill level of complicated, where little issues arise and you deal with them and then continue about your routine. But, let this be a little sign for you that if you have:
A condition like a hernia that usually requires surgery or specialized therapy
A mental health or behavioral condition that makes movement really tricky
An injury or chronic pain condition
Highly symptomatic pelvic floor dysfunction
Or even just a very minimal mind-body connection — a lot of trouble with coordination, proprioception, balance, and body awareness — for whatever reason
And you have the means, investing the time and money into additional, special treatment or support can be so very worth it.
All that said: As Lindsey said to me, “I would add that if you make a financial commitment like this, you also have to commit to the follow-through/upkeep. Which might not be a financial commitment, but a big time commitment. So don’t spend the money in the short-term if you’re not ready to commit in the long term.” What does that mean in a movement context? Actually doing your PT exercises. Actually following the programming your trainer designs for you to do on your own. Actually showing up at group classes once you’re ready for them. Actually doing your weekly video workouts when they show up in your inbox, again, if you’re ready for them. And, of course, seeking followup care if your issue returns and you need more support.
Stop throwing your money into that leaky apartment, if you have the choice. Your investment will pay off.
