If The Bit Fits…

So yes, I’m obviously way behind the curve. Fitbits are so 200… I don’t even know how old they are, because I live under a parental rock.

Yup, I’m that person. I’m perpetually behind the times. I was the last to know that Bruce Willis was dead the entire time in The Sixth Sense. I couldn’t wait to discuss the finale of The Sopranos with people… five years after the finale was on. Because, again, I live under a rock.

I wasn’t initially even interested in Fitbits when they became popular; since I’m constantly moving around the house each day, the idea of increasing that activity wasn’t very appealing.

I heard people getting jazzed about reaching their “step quota” & finding friends on it. The idea of letting people know how many steps I was taking (or NOT taking, for that matter)? Nope.

The Captain ended up getting one from his mom, who had won it. He initially liked it.  I wasn’t impressed when he’d tell me at the end of the day that he hit 10K steps, because he’s the generally the fitness guy & I’m generally the, “it’s 10pm; do you know where my chips are?'” sort of girl.

Yup. I privately scoffed at the concept of using a watch to maintain my fitness (or in my case, my lack thereof), until…

The Captain decided he no longer needed it, because he couldn’t wear it at work anyway. Would I like to have it?

“Oooh…. yay! Ok, cool!”

(Yes. In addition to being the “chips at 10pm girl”, I’m also the “hypocrite girl”.)

So I downloaded the Fitbit app, synced the watch with my iPhone, strapped it on, and was ready to get fit.

Oh, and better sleep, since it monitors that, too.

Oh, and better hydration, since it monitors that, too.

Oh, and better nutrition, since it-

What the what?!

Suddenly, my nifty new watch was less of a fitness buddy & more of a fitness Big Brother, demanding information about my every last breath, movement, bite of food, & bit of shut-eye.

P-R-E-S-S-U-R-E!

But I quickly learned that I only needed to track as much of the details as I chose to, so focused on steps, water, & sleep.

Aaaannd quickly found out that I did not obtain nearly enough steps, water, & sleep to keep my Fitbit happy.

But what I was surprised to find is though I thought I moved enough each day, there were many times where it was getting late & I was still short of the desired 10K.

So as bedtime fell, I’d find myself pacing in our dark living room, winning at my step count & losing my personal dignity.

Water Quota:

Water’s boring. I prefer seltzer, which is water’s fancy, sassy cousin, or hot water filtered through delicious coffee beans. Plain water? Eh. But since Fitbit had a water goal, I wanted to make sure I hit it.

For like a day.

But the truth? I don’t have the luxury of spending that kind of time in the bathroom excreting the liquid results of that kind of liquid consumption. You know, PEEING.

 Sleep Quota:

2 things I didn’t realize a Fitbit could tell me:

1.  Compared to “women my age” (Fitbit’s way of calling me “ma’am”), I am NOT DEEP. Like, at all.

2. Fitbit even measures the very moments I stir almost awake, which explains why I’m not getting deep sleep &, explains why, unlike “women my age”, I will likely die from sheer exhaustion.

1. #6 coming into our bed to “sleep” (kick) with us.
2. #5 coming into our bed to “sleep” (snore) with us.
3. #6 waking me up to tell me he needs to pee. This is a self-sufficient activity for him at this point, but I need to know… apparently.
4. #5 waking up to complain that #6 is hogging her space. This has not affected her snoring until this moment, but she felt I needed to know… apparently.
5. Kick in my back.
6. Kick in my side.
7. Kick in my back. Again.
8. Kick in my head, because child’s feet are now near my head.
9. #5 has stopped snoring…. but husband has begun snoring.
10. Pick up my phone because snoring is still loud, & whatever happened to that kid that moved away in 2nd grade? C’mon Facebook search- I NEED TO KNOW.

Heart rate monitor:

Deal breaker between me & Fitbit. It measures heart rate, both at rest & when active. But for someone who has a tendency towards hypochondria, this was a big NOPE. I’d see the number, and… what does that # even mean? Is it a good one? What’s a good number? Enter Google.

Me: *googles “what’s an average heart rate for 42 year old woman?”*

Google: “YOU’RE GOING TO DIEEEEEE.”

So the Fitbit & I parted ways. But the good thing is, wearing it made me realize that I was finally at a point to start finding balance again- for myself rather than for the number.

Image Courtesy of www.someecards.com