Last week, I asked you to consider a question:
​How much is enough today?​
​
A member of our email community replied to say that she agreed wholeheartedly with the message—and that it was a unique way of thinking about physical activity and exercise.
​
I think it feels different because most of us have been taught to measure movement by the maximum.
How far did you walk?
How much weight did you lift?
How many minutes did you exercise?
Did you complete the entire workout?
We don’t often talk about the minimum—the amount of movement that helps us feel better, supports our health or allows us to stay connected to something that matters.
​
Recently, on a whim, I took one of my sons to explore a park that had been closed for several years. It didn’t matter how far or how quickly we walked. We enjoyed being outside, exploring the park and spending time together.

Another day, a quick game of catch with my boys turned into a football game—and the realization that I still need to teach them the rules of Canadian football!
​
Neither was a structured workout. I wasn’t tracking my distance, counting repetitions or trying to reach a particular intensity.
​
But I moved. My body felt good. And, perhaps most importantly, the movement added something meaningful to my life.
​
That was enough.
​
I see the struggle to accept “enough” with my clients all the time. Someone will tell me rather sheepishly that they didn’t complete their entire exercise routine or that they had to do less than they planned.
​
They see what they didn’t do.
​
I see the movement they were able to do—and the information they gathered along the way.
​
Doing less does not automatically mean that the movement wasn’t beneficial. For someone living with persistent pain, a smaller amount of movement that doesn’t lead to a significant increase in symptoms can be meaningful progress.
​
Changing the plan doesn’t mean you did something wrong. It means you are learning what might be right for you now.
​
Of course, listening to your body isn’t always straightforward.
​
Sometimes your body is genuinely asking you to turn the intensity down, choose something different or rest. At other times, fear may be telling you a story about what could happen if you try.
​
That distinction can be difficult to make—especially if previous attempts at being active have left you sore, exhausted or discouraged.
​
When you aren’t sure, you might begin by asking:
What is the evidence, and what is the story?
​
Evidence is something you know to be true. What has actually happened before? What patterns have you noticed? What has helped? What has made things worse?
​
The story is what your mind may be predicting: This will hurt. I won’t be able to do it. If I can’t complete the whole thing, there’s no point in starting.
​
Sometimes, the only way to gather new evidence is to try something for as little as two minutes and notice what happens.
​
Your body may also communicate through much quieter signals: a headache, tension across your shoulders, tightness in your abdomen or a dull ache in your ankle. These sensations aren’t necessarily instructions to stop.
They are information.
Learning to recognize that information takes time. It may also require a few moments of stillness before you can notice what you are feeling.
​
The goal isn’t to analyze every tiny sensation. It is to become curious about the patterns that emerge—and to use that information to make a thoughtful decision about what you need today.
​
This is one reason I created my AI Questions Guide, Better Movement Starts With Better Questions. The questions are designed to help you look beneath the surface of your physical activity behaviour and explore some of the beliefs, fears and past experiences that may be influencing it.
​
AI cannot tell you what your body needs. But it can help you slow down, ask a different question and uncover something you may not have recognized on your own.
​
Because becoming more physically active isn’t always as simple as “just take a walk.”
It is about learning what helps you move safely and confidently. It is about finding enough meaningful movement to support your health, your independence and the life you want to live.
​
What is your body telling you—and what story might be making that message harder to hear?
Comment below and let me know.
​
Stay well and happy moving,
Lisa
​
P.S. If you would like some help exploring what may be happening beneath the surface, you can download my complimentary AI Questions Guide here.
​

A few months ago, I wrote about how better movement starts with better questions.​​

​Lately, one question has come up again and again in conversations with clients.
"How much should I do?"
It's a great question.
​
As a Clinical Exercise Physiologist, I can absolutely help answer it. I can recommend sets, repetitions, intensity, and progression.
But I've realized that sometimes my job isn't telling someone how much to do.
Sometimes my job is helping them learn how to know.
​
Because I don't live in my clients' bodies.
I can observe how they move. I can listen to what they tell me. I can use research and clinical experience to guide them.
​
But only they know what their body is feeling in that moment.
​
Exercise Is Both Science and Art
​​
I love the science of exercise.
Research gives us incredible guidance, and I rely on it every day.
But movement is also an art.
​
It's learning to notice when your body is ready for a little more challenge—and when today calls for something different.
​
It's understanding the difference between healthy effort and simply pushing because you think you should.
​
That's not something I can prescribe.
It's something you learn by paying attention.
​
Maybe We're Asking the Wrong Question
​
Instead of asking,
"How much should I do?"
what if we asked,
"What would feel like enough for my body today?"
​
Enough challenge to become stronger.
Enough movement to feel better.
Enough that you'll want to come back tomorrow.
​
Because consistency isn't built by doing the most.
It's built by doing enough.

A Different Way to Think About Movement
​​
Watch children on a playground.
They aren't counting repetitions or wondering if they've done enough.
They're exploring.
Playing.
Moving because it feels good.
​
Somewhere along the way, many of us lose that relationship with movement.
We replace curiosity with rules.
We replace enjoyment with obligation.
Maybe it's time to rediscover a little of that curiosity.
​
That's exactly why I created the AI Self-Reflection Questions.
Not to tell you what to do.
But to help you ask better questions.
​
So here's the one I'd encourage you to carry with you this week:
What would feel like enough for my body today?
​
Not enough according to your watch.
Not enough according to social media.
Enough for your body.
​
That answer may change tomorrow.
And that's okay.
Your body isn't inconsistent.
It's alive.
​
If you'd like to revisit Better Movement Starts With Better Questions or explore the AI Self-Reflection Questions, I've included the details below by simply clicking the workbook cover.
​
Stay well and happy moving,
Lisa

P.S. If you'd like to see what this looks like in real life, I recently shared a YouTube video where I put these same principles into practice myself. ​

Here's something that people often don't expect about my work.
Sometimes I'm not helping someone prepare for today's exercise.
I'm helping them prepare for something that's happening weeks—or even months—from now.
​
It might be a vacation.
A hiking trip.
Playing with grandchildren.
Or, in one recent case...
A snorkeling adventure.
​
At first, you might think the concern was the snorkeling itself.
It wasn't.
It was getting there.
​
Many snorkeling adventures don't begin by jumping off a boat. They begin with what's called a shore entry—walking from the beach into the water. Depending on where you are, that might mean navigating soft, shifting sand, uneven ground, small stones, or larger rocks before you ever reach water deep enough to float.
​
This is something I see quite often.
​
People prepare for the activity itself, but not always for what it takes to get there.
​
So that's exactly what we worked on.
​
We practiced walking on uneven surfaces. We challenged balance in a safe environment. We helped the ankles, feet, and the rest of the body learn how to adapt to constantly changing terrain.
It may seem like an unusual request, but it's actually a wonderful example of what I love helping people do.
​
Whether it's building the endurance to explore a new city, developing the strength to lift a suitcase into the overhead bin, or improving balance before a beach vacation, the goal is always the same.
​
To help people confidently participate in the physical activities that matter to them.
​
When we prepare for an activity, we usually think about the equipment.
We remember our walking shoes.
We pack our swimsuit.
We make sure we have our snorkel and mask.
Some activities make it obvious what we need to bring.
What's less obvious is that sometimes our bodies need a little preparation, too.
​
That's what this week's Real Moves for Real Life video is all about.
​

I want to show you one simple exercise you can do at home using nothing more than a folded blanket or pillow. It's a practical way to challenge your balance and prepare for uneven terrain before your next beach vacation—or any adventure that takes you off smooth, predictable ground.

Because the goal isn't simply to walk on sand.

The goal is to feel confident saying "yes" to the experiences waiting on the other side of it.
​
 Watch this week's Real Moves for Real Life video here:
​How to Prepare for Walking on Soft Sand & Uneven Terrain | Real Moves for Real Life​
​
If you enjoy the video, I'd be grateful if you would like it, leave a comment, and subscribe to the channel. It helps more people discover these practical movement ideas.
​
I'm also curious...
What adventure are you preparing for next?
I'd love to hear about it. Simply comment below and let me know.
​
Have a wonderful week! Stay well and happy moving,
Lisa
​
P.S. Real Moves for Real Life is a series of practical movement videos designed to help you prepare your body for the activities that matter most—from gardening and travel to everyday tasks and outdoor adventures.

​