Fitbit: Guilt wrapped in a wristband
I recently acquired a Fitbit. It’s been in the lost and found at my office for more than a year, and I decided it was time to put it to good use.
Sidenote: if you work in my office and you’re missing a Fitbit you can come pry it off my cold, dead wrist.
I used to think the Fitbit was stupid, either I workout or I don’t. I don’t need a monitor to keep track for me. I was wrong. The Fitbit is a great source of accountability. It’s got all the guilt of a priest and my mother wrapped up in one tiny wristband, imploring me to do better. And it came to me at the perfect time, right in the middle of a pretty deep exercise funk.
I hadn’t been motivated to workout for a while when I finally got the new Fitbit charger in the mail. I charged it and reset the account, but I knew I wasn’t ready to commit to it yet. However, I am a person who is easily seduced by shiny new toys, so I put it on my wrist, just to try it.
My phone lit up to tell me that “we” were setting my goal at 10,000 steps. Ten thousand steps is for babies, I thought, assuming I would knock that out of the park. I sat at my computer for eight hours straight, and another two hours when I got home from work. By the end of the day only three of the five indicator lights were blinking, telling me that I had failed. By a lot.
“Shut up Fitbit,” I whispered. “Don’t judge. You don’t know me.”
Day two I had a steely resolve. Not to be healthier, but to prove the Fitbit wrong. At the end of the day, the fifth light was blinking; I had almost reached my goal! It was late and I was tired, but I wanted to win. I jogged back and forth in my house. Kitchen to living room, kitchen to living room, back and forth while the puppy looked on in confusion.
Just as I was about to give up, the Fitbit started vibrating. I looked down and all the lights were blinking. The Fitbit was having a full-on party in my honor. I jumped up and down crying, “I did it! I won!”
Liz Marsh’s ‘Running Under the Influence’ appears twice a month in the Colorado Daily.