A while back, my sister introduced me to the idea of exercise snacks – short bursts of movement spread throughout the day instead of relying entirely on one dedicated workout. The research is encouraging. These brief “snacks” can improve glucose regulation, increase circulation, counteract the effects of prolonged sitting, and make it easier to stay metabolically active throughout the day.
I started with one simple rule:
Ten squats.
That’s it.
No timer. No workout clothes. No pressure. Just ten squats whenever I happened to think about it between sessions, meetings, or daily tasks.
The Number Was the Point
What surprised me wasn’t the physical benefit – although I noticed that almost immediately.
It was what happened psychologically.
The number ten turned out to be more important than the squats.
Our minds have an extraordinary ability to complicate simple tasks.
Some of us become overwhelmed.
“If I’m doing squats, I should probably do push-ups too. And I really need to answer that email. I should clean the office while I’m at it…”
Others analyze.
“I already ran this morning. Would dead hangs be more beneficial? Maybe mobility work would be better today.”
Others are so growth-oriented that they sabotage themselves with ambition.
“Ten is too easy. I should really do fifty.”
Ironically, all three strategies often arrive at the same destination:
Procrastination.
The conversation in our minds delays us just long enough that the opportunity disappears. The next meeting starts. The phone rings. We become “too busy.”
Not because we lacked ten seconds.
Because we lost the initiation.
Too Small to Negotiate
The advantage of a tiny, specific goal is that it gives the mind very little room to negotiate.
The assignment is not to optimize.
The assignment is simply to do ten.
That specificity shifts the exercise from fitness to behavioral psychology.
Every successful repetition becomes evidence that we keep promises to ourselves.
Those repetitions accumulate.
Discipline begins reinforcing itself.
Discipline Transfers
I’ve noticed this move into areas of my life that have nothing to do with exercise. Since starting these exercise snacks, I’ve become dramatically more consistent with practicing technical bass exercises – the least exciting part of becoming a better musician. Running scales with a metronome isn’t inherently rewarding. It requires repetition, patience, and grit.
Yet it has become noticeably easier.
I don’t think it’s because I’ve become more motivated.
I think I’ve been practicing discipline.
The Radio in the Mind
This reminds me of something I often discuss when teaching dynamic breathwork.
As we hold our breath, the mind begins offering reasons to stop.
“That’s long enough.”
“You’ve already gotten the benefit.”
“You can always try longer tomorrow.”
The goal isn’t to silence those thoughts.
The goal is to recognize them without automatically obeying them.
I often describe this as differentiating from the radio in our minds. The radio constantly broadcasts commentary, advice, worries, strategies, and distractions. Sometimes it’s useful. Sometimes it’s simply noise masquerading as wisdom.
Exercise snacks work in a similar way.
When the goal is simply ten squats, almost every argument the radio produces belongs in the same category:
Distraction.
Not because the thoughts are irrational, but because they are pulling us away from the objective we already chose.
The simpler the goal, the easier it becomes to recognize when our mind is trying to renegotiate it.
When Complexity Is the Obstacle
I recently had a client working through physical therapy notice something similar. She’s one of the most disciplined people I know, yet as her rehabilitation routine became longer and more complicated, her consistency began to decrease.
Not because she lacked motivation.
Because complexity increases friction.
Instead of waiting until she had thirty uninterrupted minutes, she could simply perform one exercise for ten seconds whenever an opportunity appeared.
Momentum often matters more than duration.
It Can Be Anything
Over time, I’ve expanded the idea beyond squats.
Sometimes it’s push-ups.
Sometimes a dead hang.
Sometimes a yoga pose.
Sometimes a forward fold.
The specific movement matters less than the habit of responding to the moment with a small act of intentional discipline.
Why the Word “Snack” Helps
The word snack carries a surprisingly positive emotional tone. Snacks feel enjoyable. They feel small. They feel accessible. Simply calling these moments “exercise snacks” subtly changes my relationship to them. Instead of feeling like another obligation on an already busy day, they feel like brief moments of investment in myself. The more we associate discipline with something approachable instead of something punishing, the more likely we are to repeat it.
Not Really About Squats
Exercise snacks are not really about squats.
They’re about the small, repeated choice of action over negotiation.
Health is simply one place we practice it.
The small version is not a warm-up for the real work. Often it is the real work.
Enough ten-second choices tend to accumulate into the very thing we were reaching for – and they get us there with far less resistance than aiming at the large version head-on.
