Like just about everyone else in the world, it seems, we got fitness trackers for Christmas. Steps, exercise, calories burned, sleep quality—all the device’s collected info is really fascinating to follow. On days when I haven’t met my total steps goal by evening, I’ve taken to walking laps inside the house, which confounds and excites Lucy, and which I’ve decided is just like taking her for a walk, but without me having to bundle up for cold and/or wet weather. Win-win.
On work days, Vic meets his total steps goal with no extra effort. I sit a LOT for work, so I typically only meet my goal on days in which I run errands or am otherwise extra-active. I definitely need to add some additional exercise to my daily routine, and maybe spending a little less time with Netflix wouldn’t be the worst idea ever.
I first heard about how fitness trackers are used when I read this piece by David Sedaris, published last summer in The New Yorker, about his experience wearing a FitBit. Reaching his daily goal became an obsession, then increasing that daily goal, and then reaching that goal, etc. Now that I’ve got a tracker, I can easily see how the obsession could happen.
I doubt I’ll get a garbage truck named after me—I have no desire to walk 25+ miles a day and also, trash is icky—but I do enjoy this little accessory and the incentive it gives me to get out of my chair.