When You Don't Feel Like Going to Class (Self-Talk & Motivation)

Some nights, the couch just wins.

I've been training since I was four years old. Taekwondo first, then earning my blue belt in Brazilian Jiu Jitsu, and even trying out the girls wrestling team at my high school - which had about 7 girls total. That's over fifteen years of showing up to mats that smelled like sweat, drilling the same technique until my body finally got the memo, and doing my best not to get choked out. I love contact sports. I genuinely love the martial arts community more than I can put into words.

And still. Some nights, I just don't want to go.

I tell myself I'll just rest tonight, skip one class, it's not a big deal. Maybe I'm tired. Maybe work was rough. Maybe I rolled hard two days ago and that is enough of an excuse to skip class. Whatever the reason, the resistance is real.

And I know I'm not the only one who feels it.

So what actually helps? Not generic "just push through it" advice, but the real stuff, the mental tools that work when motivation has completely clocked out for the day.

Your Brain Is Talking to You. Are You Listening?

The voice in your head isn't neutral. It has an agenda.

Self talk: the internal monologue running in the background of everything you do has a direct impact on performance, consistency, and even how much you enjoy training. Researchers Thomas Brinthaupt and Alain Morin, who have dedicated significant academic work to studying self-talk, define it as "the activity of talking to oneself out loud or in silence" and identify its core functions as including self-regulation, emotional expression, problem-solving, and self-reflection. It's not just motivational fluff. The words you use with yourself actually shape what you do next.

I started paying attention to what I was actually saying to myself on the low-motivation days. And it wasn't pretty.

You're too tired. You won't learn anything tonight anyway. One class doesn't matter.

Sound familiar? That's called negative self-talk, and it's incredibly effective at keeping you on the couch. The problem is, it masquerades as logic. It sounds reasonable. But it's really just your brain running a very convincing avoidance routine.

The Shift: From "I Have To" to "I Get To"

One of the simplest reframes I've used — and I mean genuinely used, not just read about — is switching from obligation language to opportunity language.

"I have to go to class" hits different than "I get to go to class."

I know, I know. It sounds like a self-help poster. But the research supports it. Brinthaupt and Morin's review discusses how Cognitive Behavioral Therapy (CBT) works by helping people identify dysfunctional self-talk and replace it with "more positive, adaptive, rational, or realistic interpretations of events".

When I remind myself that I chose this — that training is something I've loved since I was a little kid trying my first gi on — it pulls me back to why I started.

I think about the version of me at eight years old who would have been absolutely beside herself knowing I still get to train BJJ. That kid didn't need convincing. She wanted to learn everything!

That reframe works for me. Find the one that works for you.

The "Just Get There" Rule

My personal favorite strategy, and the one that's probably saved my consistency more than anything else: I only commit to getting to the gym.

Not to having a great class. Not to drilling hard or sparring five rounds. Just... getting there. Changing clothes. Stepping on the mat.

Here's what I've found to be almost universally true: once I'm there, I'm fine. The dread dissolves. My body remembers it likes this. I end up staying the whole class, rolling with people I enjoy, and leaving in a completely different mental state than when I walked in.

Behavioral activation is the idea that action precedes motivation rather than the other way around. We often wait to feel like doing something before we do it. But for a lot of habitual behaviors, the feeling follows the action.

You don't feel like going → you go anyway → you feel good that you went → the next time, the resistance is a little smaller. Motivation is not the on-ramp to consistency. Consistency is.

What I Tell Myself on the Hard Days

I want to be specific here, because I think vague advice isn't actually useful. Here's the actual self-talk I use:

When I'm physically tired: "I don't have to go hard tonight. I can just move and breathe and be in the room." This takes the pressure off performing and gives me permission to show up without expectations. Nine times out of ten, I end up training harder than I planned anyway.

When I feel behind or discouraged: "Blue belt means I'm still learning. Every person on that mat is still learning." There's something really humbling and relieving about BJJ — you are never done. I stopped trying to be impressive and started trying to be curious. Curiosity is a much more sustainable fuel.

When life is genuinely overwhelming: "An hour of training is an hour I'm not in my head." This one is important. I've found that training doesn't just make me stronger physically — it's one of the most effective mental resets I have. Martial arts in particular demands a level of present-moment focus that forces other stressors to quiet down, at least temporarily. You cannot worry about your inbox when someone is trying to pass your guard.

The Role of Identity

Something I've been thinking about a lot lately, through both my training and my psychology studies, is the difference between behavior-based identity and outcome-based identity. If I think of myself as someone who is trying to get a purple belt, my motivation is tied to an outcome that's still far away. But if I think of myself as someone who trains, the decision to go to class becomes less of a decision and more of a default.

James Clear writes about this in Atomic Habits, and it aligns with what I've experienced firsthand. Once I started saying "I'm a martial artist" instead of "I do martial arts," the relationship changed. I don't negotiate with myself about whether a martial artist goes to class. A martial artist goes to class. That's the identity.

On the hard days, I lean into that.

When You Actually Should Skip

I want to be real here too: sometimes the right call is to rest.

There's a difference between resistance and genuine burnout. There's a difference between "I'm lazy tonight" and "my body is telling me something." I've learned to sit with that question for a minute before I dismiss it. Am I avoiding discomfort? Or am I actually running on empty?

If I'm avoiding discomfort, I go. If I'm genuinely depleted — mentally, physically, or emotionally — I rest. Intentionally. Without guilt.

Rest is part of training. Overriding every single signal your body gives you isn't toughness, it's just a faster path to burnout or injury.

The goal isn't to brute force your way to every single class for years on end. The goal is to build a practice you can sustain for a lifetime.

This Is a Long Game

I started training at four. I'm still training now. The people I've watched burn out and disappear were usually the ones who trained hard for six intense months and then vanished. The ones still on the mat years later? They figured out how to show up consistently, not perfectly.

Martial arts gave me more than I can fully articulate — discipline, community, confidence, a relationship with my own body that I genuinely treasure.

You don't have to feel like going. You just have to go.

Your future self — the one with a deeper practice, a harder guard, and a community you've built one class at a time — will be very glad you did.

Want to read more about the mental side of martial arts training? I write about it over at MartialArts.io, where our team is passionate about supporting martial arts school owners and the communities they build.