Complicated Relationships
Seven years ago, David Sedaris wrote a story for The New Yorker about his relationship with his FitBit; his long winding walks, preparing for snakes, pushing himself to go further, and the freedom he felt when the FitBit ultimately broke. Which was immediately batted away for a replacement FitBit and more walking.
I have no idea where David Sedaris is on his FitBit journey or if he’s upgraded to an Apple Watch. I don’t really care, sorry, but I do think of him every time I look down at my Apple Watch’s fitness screen. It’s a mixture of guilt, determination, and forgiveness that washes over me multiple times a day.
Guilt because I see how low those step numbers are. It’s what happens when you’re in a global pandemic and rarely leave the 600 square feet of living space, plan trips to the grocery store like I’m headed into battle to minimize wandering, and limited medically from working out too vigorously (a 1/2 mile walk often leaves my back in hot pain for days).
Determination when I see myself so close to closing a ring for the day. That no matter how much it hurts my back, I still have to get up and throw my tissue away, so why not take the long way (an extra three steps) to the garbage can while carrying a book and aggressively swinging my arms. It’s ridiculous. And I am so blessed to live alone so no one can see the levels I reach to close a ring that means nothing in the end.
Forgiveness after I failed to close the movement ring for the first time was hard. I don’t like to fail, even when it’s not actually failure. I was at the peak of my back injury, just breathing was a constant reminder than something was wrong with my back but that was no excuse to not close my rings. I had gone a few months of hitting those 400 points a day, a small accomplishment but something I was proud of. We were in lockdown but I was still moving. I was hurt but clearly not that hurt.
I waited two months for insurance to get it together and grant me access to an MRI. Those two months I spent living, moving, glaring at my watch when it failed to take note of my activity. Getting more and more desperate because my movement became intentional to minimize pain which lead to a decrease in earning points just from my usual anxious puttering around.
After the two months, I got to slide myself into the loud chamber of pictures. And then two more weeks to get my results read. Where the doctor confirmed my suspicion all along, and then some. I had herniated my back. Specifically four of the five lower discs in my back and tore the meniscus between two of them.
The doctor looked up at me and asked me to remind him how I hurt myself. I was preparing my balcony for the hurricane that fizzled out. I was carrying cushions inside, balancing them carefully on a chair to minimize the amount of pollen I dragged onto my rug. I leaned forward to look at something on my desk, a fortune from a fortune cookie of all things.
“Better to do something imperfectly than to do nothing perfectly” it told me as white hot pain crossed my back.
“Better to do something imperfectly than to do nothing perfectly” mocked me as my knees buckled and I collapsed.
“Better to do something imperfectly than to do nothing perfectly” is the anthesis of me.
I want to do everything and I want to win.
But you can’t win like I believed when your back is betraying you.
You can’t win against the movement rings if movement is painful.
I spent the next few weeks looking at my watch like it had betrayed me and I was betraying it. There was no way for me to notify to my watch that I was injured and unable to complete the tasks like it expected. My Apple Watch works in the binary. You do it or you don’t. It’s like those tee shirts you see on super aggro-toxic (wannabe) athlete, “NO EXCUSES!” And that mentality washed over me. I let it consume me. I was letting myself be bullied by a watch.
I know the smart thing would be to unpair my Apple Watch, stick it in a drawer, and move on until I got a grip. But I’d look down at it and think “I spent hundreds on this stupid thing”. So I never got that much needed separation from this unhealthy health device.
My Apple Watch is still strapped to my wrist. My back is still in shambles but breathing is easier. I still feel guilt about not closing my rings but after that first “failure”, successive ring “failures” have become less stressful. I look at that fortune slip every day (it sits on my desk, pretty much in the same spot it’s been since hurting myself). I haven’t become numb to seeing the ring still open but I look at it and force myself to say “you did your best”.
And sometimes that’s all we can do.
