Fitbit Madness

I threw caution to the wind recently and purchased a Fitbit, partly at the urging of a gorgeous friend, and partly because after gaining 7kg since my heartattack almost 6 months ago I needed something to help stem, or rather turn, the tide. I was a little hesitant, because hey , it’s sort of pricey, and secondly, I’m about as far from a technonerd as you can get. I love it. I absofuckinglutely love it. It’s not so much that it’s technologically superb, measuring steps, pulse, and a multitude of other things, as well as linking to an app that provides personal stats that make me feel like I’m a world class athlete. (who hasn’t wanted THAT kind of pampering!) It lets me compete against friends! What better motivation is there then competing against friends? Okay that may make me sound horrible, but if it gets me off my fat ass (fat stomach more correctly, my ass remains pretty damned fine), it’s all good. I have turned into a walking madman! Today, while surging through the crowds in downtown Stockholm, walking to a friends for dinner after work, I seriously hit the zone. I had already taken a long walk at lunch and hit my 10,000 step daily minimum. So these steps were all gravy. I walked right through the heart of Stockholm, from Globen via Slussen, through Gamla Stan, and up to the top of Drottninggatan, where my friends Steve and Som live. I walked at top speed, weaving in and out of packs of tourists, reading the path ahead of me, slowing as little as possible. Whenever I was forced to slow down by zombies, in my head I became Dustin Hoffman’s character in Midnight Cowboy, “I’m walking here! I’m fucking walking here!” My legs and feet, after first struggling, finally replied “Fuck yeah!” and rose grandly and elegantly to the occasion. This is going to be the beginning of a beautiful friendship, me and my Fitbit, and my ass is going to be seriously in shape. Well, not my ass, as we’ve established it’s primo, but the rest of me is going to catch up!

5 thoughts on “Fitbit Madness

  1. Madness or obsession?

    My crawl today was unadulterated hell. Pace entirely off, the groundskeepers were mowing the common areas so I was wheezing like a kettle and I managed to miscount my laps. Tantrum thrown upon arrival at home.

    Before the two years of Health Hell, I remember having really great work out days and some really awful ones. Today was one of those awful ones. I may…may try to get another mile or two in before bed this evening provided I don’t give up the will to live, entirely.

    But yeah! The Fitbit is FUCKING AWESOME. :p

  2. Oh…and another thing while I’m in full on rage mode: my mandated IE upgrade for work is going to be what finally does my sanity in. So, tomorrow, post-shrink appointment, if you see zero steps registered – I’m on lock-down at the local asylum. Don’t send flowers as I don’t think they’re allowed. I would appreciate a smuggled pen. You can use your Swedish credentials, right? Right?

    :curls up and dies:

    • I’ll walk for you, and will smuggle in a quill and ink hidden in a Canada Goose. No one will dare question me – Because I’m walking here!

  3. *sigh*

    Speaking of trying to get in shape, today Daniel and went to look at bicycles. I had indicated that I was thinking of buying one, and he said that he was likewise thinking of buying me one for my birthday, but we had the wedding the trip and my birthday kind of got pushed to the back burner.

    So we went to Biltema and I picked out a bike I liked, and the sales person said we could take it outside and try it out. However, the saddle was way too high. I couldn’t get on the damn thing, so we took it back inside and had the saddle lowered. I managed to mount the thing, just barely, but my feet couldn’t reach the peddles. The saddle was still too high. And as I struggled to find the peddles and get a decent push with my feet, I felt myself falling over and started to panic. Daniel, the meantime, was laughing his ass off, which just pissed me off and made me panic even more, because now I was panicked and embarrassed. At that point, I just wanted to leave the store as soon as possible, no longer wanted a bicycle, and just wanted to shrivel up and die.

    Well, Daniel felt awful for laughing and apologized hundreds of times, but it will be a long time before I ever get on a bike again.

English, motherfucker, do you speak it? J/K - it's ok if you don't.

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