"Tell me the truth am I losing you for good?" - Solange, Losing You
I didn't go to the gym yesterday. I bargained with myself around 9pm at the moment when I was either going to put on my tennis shoes or curl up on the couch with Wolverine. I argued that my tooth hurt and that it was too late and I could just double up on Friday. Ultimately, though, this was the winning argument: it wouldn't count.
My fitbit ultra had been dying for much of the last month and finally kicked the bucket on Wednesday in the middle of my workout. I had already bought a flex to replace it but it came missing the wireless dongle over the weekend so I was now in this un-trackable abyss. While I mostly held to the habits I've developed while using the device, I took the elevator for the first time in months at work. Without regularly checking my steps, I found fewer reasons to get up and move. And I didn't workout yesterday because I wouldn't get the sense of accomplishment I get every time I see I've hit my goal and leapfrogged my friends and knew that my good marks for the day would go on my permanent record.
I'm a sucker for the quantified self (a topic of which my friend, lynne, is very fond). Scrobbling music to last.fm is the biggest reason why I listen to just about everything digitally. I check into foursquare and getglue for the same reasons. I want the data. I want the history and insights. I want the real.
If some cloud service has no record of it did it really happen?
I'm joking. Sort of.
My fitbit wireless dongle arrived today, though.
And I'm about to lace up my gym shoes and go workout.
Because it counts.
Bonus: My favorite workout tracks of the last 12 months (semi-regularly updated)