Like those other gadgets, sadly, my Fitbit is currently going unused, in my dresser drawer.
In the beginning, like most doomed relationships, it was great. My Fitbit was there for me, encouraging me, motivating me. I had the flex, so it also was a reminder of how little quality sleep I was getting, in addition to the reminder I'm not moving. The problem was I started to get addicted to it. The little buzz you get when you hit your step goal is intoxicating.
The problem was, I began to work out to impress my gadget rather than improve my health. I'm a middle aged mom with a desk job. I spend a lot of my time sitting at sporting events and practices. My hobbies are sedentary. I've got more curves than a country road. I'm not going to be super model skinny, ever. My exercise goal is to improve my functionality. I need to be able to carry in the groceries, to carry laundry baskets and weed my garden with minimal pain and not be out of breath. I'm wanting to be able to be the best me, not necessarily an American ninja.
I found myself compulsively checking my step counts. I began to get anxious over my sleep habits. Was I really not sleeping enough? While I didn't think I had any sleep problems, my Fitbit told me otherwise...and I began to develop them. I began moving more, which is a good thing, but it began to overtake other things. I focused so much on cardio, that I began to neglect my yoga (which doesn't give you a lot of steps) and strength training, which is important for that functionality piece of my puzzle.
In Galations 5:1, Paul wrote:
For freedom Christ has set us free; stand firm therefore, and do not submit again to a yoke of slavery.
I had submitted to a yoke of slavery with that little gadget on my wrist.
While I'm curious as to how much I'm moving, I don't need to be chained to a device (well, besides my phone). I'm judging how well I sleep by how I feel in the morning. And I've broken those chains of (not) love.
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