Each morning, the first thing I do is glance at my watch – not to check the time, but to see my sleep score.
As an avid runner, when the bright red digits indicate that my score – and my readiness for training – are low, I feel a wave of anxiety. Nevertheless, I continue to scroll, examining my heart rate variability and stress levels – metrics that set the mood I bring into the day.
What does my apprehension towards my smartwatch’s assessment of my athletic ability reveal about me? That I have become a pawn in the gamification of health metrics.
According to Deloitte, last year, electronics constituted a significant portion of total Black Friday sales. That was when I acquired my first smartwatch, a Garmin.
This year, I plan to discard it.
I was the ideal target. For years, I prepared to participate in my first marathon. I observed fitness influencers, ultramarathon runners, and Olympians optimize their training through detailed tracking and advanced gadgets. I yearned for that too. I purchased the watch and joined Strava, a social networking platform for athletes.
Once I had a tracker on my wrist, sleep turned into a sacred ritual. I sacrificed late-night socializing for it, believing I would reap the rewards on race day. I structured my days around my nights, captivated by an illusory sense of control over my circadian rhythm.
Sleep, much like my running routine, gradually transformed from a natural bodily function into a technological symbol of productivity.
I was captivated, empowered by the misconception that I was training intuitively. I pushed myself harder when my Garmin nudged me, and even more vigorously when I sought to challenge its metrics. I began running more for the PR (personal record) badges and “your fastest 5k!” notifications rather than for mental clarity and solitude.
I ran out of passion, and out of that passion, I succumbed to the Strava-fication of the activity. Suddenly, my runs shifted from personal to public performance.
I understood this only when the truth became painfully clear. An MRI revealed that the persistent pain I had been dismissing in my heels – something my watch had overlooked – was due to four stress fractures caused by running.
Recovering from the injury compelled me to take a break, and during that period, I contemplated the app-ification of fitness culture.
I’ve recognized that health optimization tools – those advertised as essential for improved sleep, a lower resting heart rate, enhanced VO2 max (a measure of the oxygen your body utilizes), and so forth – are crafted to profit from our fitness anxieties. We monitor ourselves obsessively, fretting over our inadequacies without apparent resolution. In this process, we become untrained in heeding our innate physiological indicators and instead learn to generate shadow experiences such as showcasing our detailed workout statistics or running routes on digital platforms that no one is observing.
I’ve also discovered that if you cease tracking, you will experience a slight yet noticeable improvement in well-being.
I don’t dispute that modern fitness gadgets are extremely appealing, and in many aspects, tracking can prove beneficial for training. However, I firmly believe that excessive dependence on data gathered by gadgets and apps – along with the comparisons we create from sharing it – can quickly distort and commercialize what I believe to be the true essence of running: being present.
When we aren’t cataloging our data, when we are merely participating, we can begin to enjoy the subtle, yet significant, psychological advantages of endurance sports – the repetitive stillness, the ongoing failures – which cannot be distilled into a social media post or commercialized.
And as we tolerate the mundane and challenging facets of a sport repeatedly, we often achieve gains that are both mindful and physical, becoming increasingly aware of how and where we direct our focus. This is no trivial endeavor. It demands discipline to remain aware, present, and undistracted.
Exercise offers a unique opportunity to allow our bodies’ movements to influence our thoughts in each passing minute. When we’re in motion, there’s no need to scrutinize our health metrics. We can learn to embrace the present moment and acknowledge our limitations with humility.
The holiday season will attempt to persuade you that you need gadgets to enhance the effectiveness and efficiency of your workouts. There will be vibrant and captivating advertisements featuring well-known athletes. You might see a sleeker smartwatch or a state-of-the-art GPS tracking shoe insert similar to the ones that frequently appear on Instagram. Be wary.
Liberating yourself, at least temporarily, from the smartwatch or smartphone that monitors your every step is a challenge worth undertaking. Because every stroll, run, or ride tells a new story, and without fitness gadgets, the route remains ours to navigate. – Los Angeles Times/Tribune News Service