Move! Trying and failing to resist my smart watch
As I sat trying to figure out a title for this post, my smart watch vibrated on my wrist: Move!, it demanded. Thanks, watch. Perfect title.
I had a tense relationship with my smart watch before I even bought it. I was feeling curious about getting one, but I also know myself: would the watch feed my need to track myself and keep streaks and generally be beholden to whatever habits were being monitored? Probably! I wasn’t sure I needed more of that in my life.
Still, I thought it would be useful to have some heart rate tracking for my workouts, and I found a watch that didn’t look like a smart watch, and it didn’t cost a whole lot… and thanks to the magic of late-stage capitalism, within a few days it was on my arm.
We got off to a bad start right away. It wanted my weight. Like any woman reared under diet culture and trying to keep my sanity, I don’t weigh myself on a regular basis. Not even a yearly basis. I hemmed and hawed but I had this fancy new device and it seemed like a lot of trouble to skirt around this metric, so I dug the scale out from under my partners dirty winter boots and did it. I would love to say I’ve reached a point in the body acceptance journey where I didn’t immediately feel bad about myself, but that would be a lie. It’s a JOURNEY. Anyways, I put in the number and kept it moving, emotionally-speaking.
I was also kind of annoyed that it wanted menstrual cycle information. I don’t really care about tracking this, but apparently if you label yourself a woman, it’s gotta get all up in your business.
Once I got over these personal affronts, I had to decide what kinds of data I wanted to see on my arm and in the app. Despite my misgivings, it seemed silly to have this thing and not get information on sleep, steps, “body battery,” etc. And why not join a few monthly challenges on the app and add some “friends” and share my workouts? Oh sure, it can send me reminders to MOVE my lazy ass, too.
I’ve had to remind myself that these devices are not 100% accurate so I don’t think I’m dying all the time. My PulseOx and VO2 Max suggest that I have one foot and half a lung in the grave. Some days my body battery indicates that my inner Energizer bunny is actually a gravely-injured sloth. My resting heart rate is ok but if I break into a light jog it seems to think my entire chest will explode. Deep sleep? I don’t know her.
I can take these metrics with a grain a salt (and also deal with the reality that I may be less “fit” than I assume, whatever fit truly means). I can disregard the commands to move when I’m chilling on the couch, although I’m jealous of my friend’s knock-off Apple watch that asks her if she wants to “neglect” its notifications. What I find hard to ignore is that good old “thief of joy,” comparison.
The Garmin app automatically puts you in a weekly step challenge with your app connections. Somehow, the random people I’ve added from the “Women Approaching 50” group are all racking up 20,000 steps a day. How? When? I am solidly bringing up the last place in that challenge on a shocking number of occasions.
I REALLY don’t want to be a person who feels she has to “get her steps in” every day. I do not want to be ruled by this silly metric. And mostly, I’ve resisted. I revel in being last; someone has to be and I can handle it. Still, I got excited about actually meeting the step goal my watch set for me a record 3 days in a row. I found myself brushing my teeth while walking in circles around my living room. Humiliating. The next day I let myself “fail” by a few hundred steps and the day after that, I embraced my sub-4000 step day with glee.
It’s also difficult not to look at other people’s run paces and feel as though I run like an old man shuffling to the fridge in the middle of the night. Even people who describe themselves as slow runners are impressively quick to me. My running activities, with pace, or lack thereof, are displayed on the feed like everyone else’s. It’s hard not to feel a little embarrassed. But I’m learning to be ok with it, and mostly reminding myself that NO ONE CARES. As my very first Running Room “coach,” aka Running Pal Al, used to say to his run group: “What pace? Your pace!”
I’ve been wearing the watch for about 5 months now, and I’d say that some days the watch “wins,” and some days I manage to keep its data from infecting my brain and forcing me to take a bunch of zombie steps at bedtime. These devices are definitely dangerous for “achiever” types like me who already have a hard time being less rigid with habits and goals. Still, pushing back against the watch and its demands is also a nice way to remind myself that I can take or leave “optimization” strategies and I can learn not to take comparisons to heart. I’m also relieved to know that I can still tell time in analog. ;)
What I’m reading: Sunday Silence, by Nicci French. This is the last installment in the Frieda Klein mystery series, and I’m going to miss spending time in Frieda’s London.
What I’m watching: Season 8 of Shetland. Reactivated my BritBox subscription for a hot minute so I can watch the latest season. Always mentally planning a trip there while I watch.