Ain't One Bit-Fit

After reading a newspaper article about a product, Practical-Husband immediately bought one online. His explanation? “I don’t know- I just liked the idea.” He’s used it every single day for the past two years.

The object being a wearable device that monitors and records his fitness activity. It is a fancy pedometer that has accelerometer and altimeter measuring capabilities, and in some of the upscale newer models the ability to track heart, pulse and sweat rates, heretofore not readily available on just any old mobile sensor. Practical-Husband bought a Polar Loop. At the same time our younger son purchased a JawBone and soon after that his girlfriend/now fiancee bought one. And many of their millennial friends had soon purchased them. They come with many names: FitBit, Garmin Vivo, Nike-something-or-other, etc. It turns out that activity tracking is quickly becoming a billion dollar industry.

Oh and I forgot, as if we didn't have enough to worry about with proper activity levels, nutrition, world peace and all, the monitors also measure quality of sleep.

But, not me! No! I completely resisted any urge to track my physical activity or my inactivity for a couple of years.

***

About a month ago I was shopping for last minute Christmas bargains when I spotted a Polar A300 on the clearance shelf. "Polar A300, hmm," I thought. But, what really caught my eye was the bright red markdown sticker that Target uses and which conveniently indicates the percentage of price reduction. There it was, the elusive 70 percent discount! I quickly placed it in my cart, and soon catching up with Practical-Husband a few aisles later, we had a confab on our selections. I showed him my Polar A300. His only comment upon seeing the price was, “Where?" as he sped off in the direction I pointed to seek another. No such luck, buddy, I had the only one.

I’ve been faithfully wearing it each day and I must admit that I’ve been more physically active since getting one. For me it’s as simple as looking at the display and thinking, “Wait a minute! What the heck? I know I can do better than this!"

But…, another part of me says, “But, it oughtn’t have to be that way- oughtn't it be ingrained in me by now?"

***

I think of the Andy Griffith episode where Andy helps a female county nurse in getting a local farmer, Rafe Hollister, to submit to a tetanus shot. She feels Rafe's positive influence on other farmers will aid her in getting 100 percent compliance for shots.

Rafe, in his own words “ain’t never been to a doctor" in his life. "I came into this world with my mama, and I'll leave with the undertaker. I don’t see no use to cluttering things up in between".

***

Andy: [showing Rafe different medical tools from the nurse’s bag] This is a stethoscope. Know what it does? 

Rafe: Nah. 

Andy: It lets you hear your heartbeat. Wanna hear your heartbeat? 

Rafe: What for? I know my heart’s beatin’.

Andy: Well, I know but- 

Rafe: I'm alive ain't I? 

Andy: Well, yeah but- 

Rafe: Well, then my heart’s beatin'! 

Andy: Just listen to it. [putting the earpiece on Rafe's head and the bell to Rafe's chest] See? Now listen to mine. [Moves bell to his own chest] See, ain't that somethin'? 

Rafe: All right, now we know we're BOTH alive!

Andy: [showing Rafe a thermometer] Do you know what this is?

Rafe: Looks like something for syphoning cider. [I’m sure the censors substituted 'cider' for 'moonshine' here.]

Andy: It’s a thermometer.

Rafe: I got one on my hen house-  only it’s bigger.

Andy: This here's a thermometer for people. Lets 'em know when they got a fever.

Rafe: I know when I got a fever-  I'm hot!

Andy: This lets you know how hot.

Rafe: I know how hot I am when I'm hot- I’m dang hot!… Besides, being hot ain’t being sick. Sooner or later you’re bound to get cold again. If you get too cold, then you’re dead, but you don’t need no thermometer to tell you that.

***

My PolarFit has just informed me, via a vibrating message, as I sit typing that “IT’S TIME TO MOVE!"

“Ok, already,” I tell her. “I felt like a cup of tea anyway” as I stroll into my kitchen.

“Ha-ha! Not exactly what I meant,” she continues. “You’ll still need to walk 7 1/2 miles or jog 53 minutes to get that tea.” 

And then: “At least drink that standing up!” she sighs as I soon sit back down with my tea.

It was once a 50 percent reduction, but I caught it at 70!

***

I don’t get it. Since when did sitting and thinking become so bad for us as humans? I input all of the information correctly when I register and use the syncing app for my PolarFlow, you know like age, weight, height, usual amount of activity, etc. But she doesn’t even cut me one bit of slack for being a 63 year old woman. She sneers at me when I shovel the heavy snow from the walk, “Hah! You call that exercise?” I received only a few hundred “steps” credit for that half hour of arm, shoulder and back-breaking effort. Still, I meekly proclaim, “Wait and see, I’ll try harder tomorrow. I promise!”

I could swear I saw this in all caps!

And I do, strapping on the cross-country skis first thing in the morning and blazing my own path for at least 45 minutes. "That's it?!” I ask her. "A measly 4,000 of your so-called ‘steps'? Forget it! I'm going to finish reading that Ishiguro book about the buried giant. A half hour later she’s buzzing me again to get up and move, just like she does anytime I sit in the car for any length of time. Does she have any idea what it’s like to live in the middle of nowhere, in the middle of winter, where decent grocery shops are all 25-50 miles away? I wear her to ladies' bowling league, thinking I'll be on my feet for two hours and part of that time I'll be hurling a 12 pound ball, but when I check for "steps" I could swear she'd subtracted some. I check with Practical-Husband, who laughs, "Don't worry. There are ways around her. I put her on when I mow the lawn. (He uses a ride-on mower for a 3/4 acre lot) She gives me 20,000 steps just for sitting on a mower!" 

Okay, so I can’t walk or run outside as the streets are an icy-covered snowy mess and "Hello, Polar! Did I mention that I’m a 63 year old lady whose bones are probably osteo-something!?" I try 40 minutes of yoga, Steve Ross hatha yoga that leaves me perspiring and with my muscles feeling very Gumby-like - all for a lousy 678 steps. Fine, I'll pull out the Wii-Fit from the closet and set it up. And I do, doing 30 minutes of activity, but still do not meet my “goal.” I add 2x4 block risers to the underside of the WiiFit balance board and hop on for another session. Bingo! I reach my goal! But, where is the vibrating congratulations? I press a bunch of buttons and finally I see, “Goal reached.” Where is the confetti? the applause?

***

Anyway, my point is: I should be able, by this age in my life, to discern when I’ve had enough exercise. I know the near-breathlessness that comes from running, or from walking up a few flights of stairs. I know the good fatigue that follows long walks on the hilly land that surrounds our home and the even hillier Richmond, VA terrain; or fatigue from four straight hours of de-sodding a plot of ground in preparation of a new garden using only hand tools and my own manual strength. I know that I sleep better, I digest food better, my mind functions better, and all from lots of physical movement. And I oughtn’t rely on this  band and an app to help me stay motivated. -But, for whatever reason it works. And so I’ll continue to use it.

you've got a ways to go

***

I went for my annual physical check up with my doctor in December. A new nurse did my check-in. She’d forgotten to put me on the scale before she took me to the exam room, where I was now already clad in a paper gown. She couldn’t very well drag me back out into the hall to where the scale was, so as she input the data, she asked, “So how much do you weigh?”

Me: I have no idea.

Nurse: What do you mean?

Me: Well, I never weigh myself. I don’t even own a scale. I leave that nonsense for my annual check up.

Nurse: Well, okay. How much did you weigh at your visit last year?

Me: I don’t remember. I don’t pay much attention to my weight. But, whatever it was the doctor has never mentioned it as a problem.

Nurse: [shaking her head] How do you know if you are gaining or losing weight?

Me: I can tell by the way my clothes fit. But they always seem to fit and since I always wear the same size, I guess I’d say I'm about the same weight as I’ve always been.

***

I completely get Rafe Hollister... And I know that Rafe would never have worn an activity tracker. He knew when he was active, and he knew when he was asleep.