Tag Archives: fitbit

FitBit Round 2


“You look like a weirdo bouncing around out here,” said my husband from his open truck window. He had that look on his face. The one where he thinks I’m adorable on the one hand but doesn’t want to admit our marital status on the other. I grinned and leaned in the window, planting a kiss on his cheek, hoping that would sway him closer to “adorable” for the day.

I refrained from ‘bouncing” while he continued on his way to work, but as soon as he was out of sight, I began jogging in place again – I had to get some steps in before I was chained to my desk for the day.  Every morning I take the dogs for their “poop walk”.  The main goal is the production of outdoor tootsie rolls and not indoor tootsie rolls camouflaged on our brown carpet only to be found by an unsuspecting bare foot. Not a pleasant way to wake up.

However, our oldest dog, Lucky, is like a fussy old Englishman when it comes to picking his outdoor bathroom:  “Shall I poop here? No, no, no – doesn’t smell right. Shall I poop here, then? Hmmm. No, not quite right yet. Perhaps this spot? Drat! Still not right….Oh?  What’s this?  A delightfully dead worm!  I think I shall sniff it for 10 minutes and then roll madly about all over it!”

FOR THE LOVE OF GOD JUST POOP ALREADY!!!

FOR THE LOVE OF GOD JUST POOP ALREADY!!!

In the past, I just wandered along behind them, slack eyed and drooling before my first cup of coffee.  But, since climbing back on the FitBit pony, I realized there was a wealth of steps to be made on this walk, if only I was willing to look like the neighborhood idiot.

Seriously.  I look like that chick on the prancersize videos, only in the bustier Clydesdale version. Now, imagine seeing that come by your window when you first wake up in the morning. You can kinda see why Dave might want to deny all knowledge my existence.

Thankfully, I am NOT wearing revealing white pants.  Instead, I don the clothing of my people:  A Packer sweatshirt and pajama pants.  Hey, it’s 6:30 in the morning.  Be happy I have on a bra.

A bit of history: I bought my first FitBit Zip last year – you can read that story here – and proceeded to destroy it via wash machine. At it’s untimely demise, I fished out another crisp $100 bill and laid it down for the next step up – the FitBit Flex. Which I lost within a month because I had the great idea of attaching it to my shoe while I rode my bike (Note to self:  You are a bonehead.  That is all.).

I decided then that i was too irresponsible (and now too poor) to own a FitBit and I hung up my obsessive compulsive I MUST STEP ALL THE STEPS shoes.

Until, one day, I saw this beauty – the FitBit Charge HR.  Besides counting steps, it counts calories burned, flights of stairs climbed, and miles walked.  It has a sleep mode and an exercise mode.  It’s a watch and it pairs with my phone and buzzes with an incoming call.  Oh yeah, and it has a heart monitor in it!  Be still my geeky heart.  Nevermind that it cost more than both of my other two put together.  IT HAS A HEART MONITOR!!

FitBit Charge HR

FitBit Charge HR

So now I have this new FitBit and I’m in about a thousand challenges a week and let me tell you I am kicking FitBit ASS.

Some might say it’s become a little life controlling.  “Some” would be wrong.  I can quit anytime.  So what if we don’t have any clean underwear and I spend my evenings walking around the kitchen table until midnight?

Dave was downstairs watching TV and I had been marching around the kitchen for about 20 minutes when he came upstairs and glared at me. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Um…getting my steps in?”

“For the love.  It sounded like a herd of elephants from downstairs.  You need to get a grip.”

Fine.  I’ll walk outside.  In the dark, dark, dark outside, where we have no streetlights or sidewalks, past the woods and the cornfields, and pray I don’t get hit by a car.  Or attacked by a werewolf.  Or snatched by the Children of the Corn.

Now, if you will excuse me – I have to go find my crucifix and garlic cloves so I can go for a walk.

Until next time,

Werewolf Bait Sue

PS:  I have since learned from other people that FitBit has indeed sent people new units even if they have lost them in incredibly stupid ways, like drunk swimming, bungee jumping, wearing them during an alien abduction, leaving them in 1986 during a hot tub time machine incident, etc.

PPS.  I only bring this up because my very wise oldest sister told me to contact them both times and I didn’t follow her very sage and intelligent advice.

PPSS.  And it pains me to say this, but YOU WERE RIGHT, TERRI!

PPPSS.  Sue is still great.

 

“You Paid How Much For A Pedometer?”


Hi. My name is Sue. And I’m a FitBit Addict.

We recently had a family get together at my parents. We had relatives from my mom’s side in town, and we all gathered to chew the fat and catch up on everyone’s lives. During the course of the evening, I happened to fall into a conversation with my brother in law about his FitBit.

Seems everyone in my sister’s family has one, and they compete against each other each week to see who gets the most steps in. With a glint in his eye, my brother in law methodically sowed his seeds of temptation with stories of my sister walking around the driveway before bed trying to get a few more steps in to be top dog for the day. I knew he was setting me up,- I could feel the “MUST BEAT MY SIBLING” genetic factor flaring up. He sealed the deal by showing me how it synced with my phone and how you can send messages to your friends who also own FitBits.  It even has a “taunt” feature. A little family competition AND techie geekness? Take my money now.

A FitBit, for those of you not in the know, is basically a glorified pedometer. It counts steps, distance, activity minutes, and calories. You can also set up your account to have specific step and weight loss goals, and you can manually enter the amount of water you drank, extra exercise that wouldn’t be counted with the FitBit, and what you ate that day. They make fancier ones that also monitor your sleep, but I wasn’t interested in spending an extra $40 to find out what I already knew: Menopause = shitty sleep.

FitBit Zip

FitBit Zip

So now, I’m a FitBit addict. I wake up in the morning and put it on and don’t take it off until I wake up off the couch and go to bed. My dogs are exhausted from all the extra walks and I willingly accompany Dave to Menards (the local mens mall) and no longer break into tears as we troop endlessly down aisles and aisles of plywood, bolts, power tools, hoses, light fixtures, and paint. I find excuses to check on my irises down by the water and I feed the birds about 20 times a day – all those blackbirds are now too fat to fly south. I even like grocery shopping now. Okay that’s a big fat lie. But at least I get extra steps in.

"PLEASE!  STOP THE INSANITY!"

“PLEASE! STOP THE INSANITY!”

I recently coerced invited one of my other sisters into hiking Potawatomi State Park with me, under the guise of “Oh, I want to hike the Ice Age Trail – it’s about 3 miles and sounds really cool. Wanna go with me?” and then proceeded to drag her down every available hitch I could find. 7 miles later, we were back to our cars, and I’m pretty sure she was ready to kill me. Good thing all the cliffs were at the beginning of the trail.

She should have thrown me off the top of the tower when she had the chance.

She should have thrown me off the top of the tower when she had the chance.

I worried about hitting my step goal during the work week because I have a desk job. Turns out a trip to the lunch room adds about 100 steps and a trip to the bathroom about 100, so if I drink 5 extra glasses of water a day, I can add over a 1000 steps just going pee. Plus having CRS disease (Can’t Remember Shit) due to menopause adds about 5000 steps a day with all the backtracking I have to do. You know, the times I walk into a room to get something, forget what it was, leave, remember again, and then walk back. Beat that you young whipper snappers.

Right now I’m about 2000 steps away from my goal. It’s 10:30 at night. So if you happen to see a woman flailing her arms at mosquitoes while walking briskly along the side of the road in the dead of night with two pairs of glowing eyes at her feet, please don’t run her over. She’s not crazy. Well, that’s the second big fat lie of the night. She IS crazy. But that’s no excuse to run her over, right? RIGHT?

See ya next week, provided none of you run me over.

Sue

PS. On a side note to this whole thing – while writing this, I got up to put the dogs out and stood there walking in place for 5 minutes while they piddled, only to turn around and see my FitBit sitting on my desk. Rat bastard!