As I’ve discussed before, I love (ed) my Fitbit. I’m a goal-orientated person, and I enjoy winning, especially at the expense of others. Having a device which counts my every step is highly motivating for me. I would park at the very end of parking lots. Walk from the laundry basket to the drying line to pad my step count. Take unnecessary strolls in the evenings with my kids or my dog.
I did all this because I’m a winning winner who likes winning. When I walked more steps then my Fitbit friends, I felt a little more righteous. Likewise, when others (Lisa, Masha, I’m talking to you directly here) surpassed me, I shook my fist in frustration and vowed to find a bank an additional kilometer away.
When my Fitbit was charging, I would sit on my ass and read a book, because why walk for no reason? I did Crossfit, because that is a compulsion all in itself, but sans Fitbit, because it got in the way.
Not that I was obsessively thinking of all the steps lost during those constantly varied, high-intensity functional movements. Nope.
So, two weekends ago, on a trip to Toledo, my Fitbit died. It was a harrowing experience, because not only was I on vacation, which is always a prime opportunity to add in additional steps, but it was rainy as hell. Like, Noah-style rain. The universe needed to know that I walked 16,000 steps with two children in the rain.
But, alas, I walked and got no credit for it. All I got to do was view the artwork of El Greco, listen to my footsteps echo in a cathedral, and eat pinchos. I held my kids’ hands and debated which Avenger was the most worthy (Black Widow, obviously).
I haven’t replaced my Fitbit, because I suspect I’ll be inheriting the older one of a friend soon, and my disposable income is for Christmas right now.
I’m coping as well as one can expect in such circumstances. I put one foot in front of the other, as they say. I see the lights on the streets, kiss my friends goodbye, and stop for a cafe y tostada.
I tell myself that the uncounted life is still a good, and worthy one.