Psoriasis makes training harder in specific, predictable ways — and staying active can still improve symptoms and how you feel overall, according to reporting in GQ that gathered advice from athletes living with the condition. The practical takeaway from those athletes and from Dr. Khattri Saakshi, a triple board certified dermatologist, rheumatologist and internist at Mount Sinai: training through a flare is doable, but it takes planning around friction, sweat, joint stiffness and comfort.
The condition shows up two ways. Skin psoriasis can limit training directly — on the hands and feet, a form called palmoplantar psoriasis causes pain when lifting weights or running, Dr. Saakshi told GQ. Psoriatic arthritis adds joint stiffness, pain and swelling that can make a normal routine feel tough or unrealistic at times.
There is a psychological side too. "If it's in visual areas, then certainly there could be an impact from a social perspective where patients might be uncomfortable going out," Dr. Saakshi says — a problem compounded in gyms, where tanks and shorts are often unavoidable. What follows is the durable advice from four athletes who train through it anyway. For more on adapting programming when something hurts, see our guide to Training With Minor Pain: When to Stop.
Why does psoriasis make working out harder?
The mechanics are straightforward. Itching skin can bleed mid-workout — Jack Taylor, a 26-year-old content creator in London, told GQ he had to leave a workout class after a psoriasis patch on his elbow started bleeding, because he could not exercise while holding a tissue. On the feet, psoriasis makes fabric friction a problem: Reece King, a 34-year-old content creator in Toronto, says any fabric running across the soles of his feet is "unbelievably uncomfortable."
With psoriatic arthritis, the limits move to the joints. Liam Roberts, a 40-year-old personal trainer and assistant gym manager in Margate, England, diagnosed in 2006, says flare-ups of the joints can restrict certain exercises or whole routines.
Can exercise itself help symptoms?
Yes, according to the GQ reporting: while the condition can make sport more challenging, staying active can help improve symptoms and make you feel better overall. Taylor's own experience is the clearest example. At his first diagnosis, 90% of his body was covered and he could barely leave the house. He started with daily walks, then running, and ran the London Marathon at the height of his psoriasis two years ago.
"It really helped channel some of that tension," he says. "You had an awful day with your skin, your skin is bleeding, whatever, but you can go on this run. That feels so victorious to me." His framing is about control: "I could never control anything to do with my skin. I can't control the itchiness." Whether the sport is running, swimming or lifting, he says finding one that works as an outlet matters most.
How should you modify a workout during a flare?
Two athletes described the same principle from different ends of the condition. Sam Cushing, 34, who is training for a HYROX competition, watches friction, sweat and clothing during a flare and adjusts any movement that irritates his skin. "For me, modifying a workout isn't a setback. The goal is to stay active without making things worse."
Roberts, whose psoriatic arthritis hits the joints, adapts by changing the routine, going lighter on the weights, or taking more rest. "All you can do is listen to your body and adapt," he says. That is the same logic behind our guide to The Myth of Training Through Pain, Debunked — pushing through a symptom is a decision with a cost, not a virtue.
Gear adjustments that athletes actually make
King's changes are practical and specific: the socks he wears and the running shoes he uses. He opts for soft cotton running socks over synthetic materials, which he says aggravate his skin. The lesson generalizes — swap whatever fabric or equipment contacts the affected skin first.
What about the self-consciousness?
Every athlete in the GQ piece addressed it, and their answers converge. Taylor accepts that people look when his skin goes red, particularly after swimming — "It's upsetting because it's not in your head. People are obviously looking" — but says they are more likely curious than judging. His reset: "you deserve to be here as much as everybody else, and I'm never going to see any of these people again 99% of the time."
Roberts spent years hiding the condition — "even something as simple as wearing shorts and T-shirts was not an option" — but his job made covering up impossible, and he grew more comfortable with exposure despite still feeling self-conscious. Cushing puts it plainly: "It's not something I have to love every day, but something I also don't feel the need to hide like I used to."
Taylor's gear rule follows from that: wear what suits the workout, not what hides the skin. "Don't put tracksuits on when you are in a workout class. I promise no one is going to be that bothered and you deserve to be comfortable."
The bigger shift
For Cushing, the change was internal as much as physical. "The biggest change for me has been learning not to let psoriasis define how I see myself or what I believe my body can do," he says. That mindset — adjust the session, keep the identity of an athlete intact — is what the athletes in this reporting consistently point to as the difference between dropping out and training through.
What the evidence here establishes is the lived experience of four athletes and the clinical framing of one physician at Mount Sinai. It does not establish which modifications work best for which presentation, or how training volume during flares affects long-term outcomes — those questions were not addressed in the source. For decisions about your own training during a flare, the athletes' accounts and Dr. Saakshi's clinical context are a starting point, not a program.
