I Love My #Fitbit

Sometimes I meet food and travel bloggers and marvel at their thinny-thinness. Because despite doing a fairly good job at eschewing most breads and pastas, and despite not having much of a sweet tooth at all (exceptions = mint ice cream and lemon tart), my losing battle with the gym continues.

Sure, I go through phases. In 2008, I was all about the British 10k and I was thinner than I’ve been in a long time, thanks to long weekly runs through Queen’s Wood in Highgate, along with lots of interval training on the treadmill at Virgin Active Moorgate. Then in 2009, I hired a personal trainer who boxed with me in my living room twice a week for six months before he nipped off to Australia and I stopped boxing. (The dress I wore at Christmas that year — a bondagey type of thing that did wonderful things for my top and bottom — still hangs morosely in my closet.)

And then I repatriated back to the US and I didn’t buy a car on purpose because I knew what life in America was going to be like. If I bought a car, I would never walk anywhere and I would never ride my bike. I would go out to eat at restaurants where portion size was EASILY two (or three) times what portion size in London was like. This would be another losing battle. I was afraid. Very very afraid.

So earlier this year, when my dad told me he was going to get me a Fitbit for my birthday, I was kinda okay with it, despite the underlying message he was sending. And then my friend Renee got a Fitbit. And then Kelly. And then Julie. So I finally gave in and asked my dad where my Fitbit was, and it arrived in the mail the other week.

And I am sort of in love with it. Firstly, because I am a data junkie.

Here, for example, is my Fitbit data from yesterday, Saturday August 11th. A very good day. I walked six miles and burned 2,416 calories. (While I’m sure this data isn’t an exact science, some data is better than no data, and by using the Fitbit every day, the comparison data — the ability to compare yesterday to today and tomorrow to last week — is still useful.)

Here’s where things get scary though. On Tuesday, August 7th, once I was out of bed, I spent 77.5% of the day sitting on my ass. Gah. Talk about motivation for getting up off your ass.

For women, you attach the Fitbit to the middle of your bra. Men can use a belt loop or a shirt pocket. Then, when all your friends have Fitbits, there’s a leaderboard that tracks who’s walked the most, who’s burned the most calories, and who’s been the most active. Who doesn’t like a little competition?

Two big observations:

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