Those who know me well know how much I live by my Fitbit. Those who read my blog posts regularly know it, too, and no doubt remember my “Fit as a Fiddle: The Inefficient Way.”
I swear by my Fitbit so much mainly because I consider it to be my Doc-in-a-Watch, not that I need a doc in my watch or anywhere else, for that matter. My once-a-year doctor doesn’t like it too much when I tell her all about my Fitbit. Her skepticism always prompts me to give her an accelerated show-and-tell Fitbit Continuing Medical Education session, explaining everything that my Fitbit monitors and tracks:
● Steps per hour and per day.
● Sleep score–duration, deep sleep and REM sleep, and restoration.
● Exercise readiness score.
● Skin temperature.
● Resting heart rate.
● Breaths per minute.
● Heart rate variability.
● Blood oxygenation.
● Atrial fibrillation.
My Fitbit and I are so connected that it leaves my bod for two reasons and two reasons only.
The first is when it needs to be recharged. I time
my its rechargings precisely so that my Fitbit doesn’t lose track of my steps and other vitals. The charger is on my kitchen counter, right next to my other life force–the coffee pot.
The second occasion that my Fitbit leaves my bod is just before I step into the shower. Then I put it on the shelf right below my toiletry cabinet. As soon as I step out of the shower and dry off, I put my Fitbit back on my wrist and go about my day.
My method of living a Fitbit-life was foolproof until Friday, December 16. I knew in advance that the day would be charged emotionally. I had to attend my college’s end-of-year celebration, where some colleagues who were retiring would be recognized. I fell into that category, too, but I am not ret–ing, even if I would be recognized as a faculty member who was. There’s a really negative word embedded in reTIRED. Yep. You guessed it. TIRED. And to pick up a title from one of my favorite James Cleveland spirituals,
Here’s the second reason that December 16 became charged emotionally. The day before, an Arctic blast hit our region, iced over my mountain world, and iced me indoors. Dang. How could I be recognized if I couldn’t make it to the celebration?
On the morning of the event, it looked as if my icy world had melted a little, but I wasn’t quite sure since it was nowhere near daylight. I started fretting.
I continued to fret when I took my shower. I continued to fret when I dried off. I continued to fret when I went upstairs to dress for the day.
By then it was daybreak, and I could tell that my mountain road was clear enough for me to Jeep off.
I kept on readying myself, and just as I put on my bracelet, I realized that I had not put on my Fitbit.
I raced back downstairs to get it, and to my horror, it was not on the shelf where I thought that I had left it.
Maybe I left it on my desk? Nope.
Maybe on the charger? Nope.
On my dresser? Nope.
Maybe it came unclasped and fell on the floor? I walked all through the house. Nope.
I repeated the trek. Nope. The Fitbit was not to be found.
I couldn’t continue looking. I had to head off to the college celebration. All the way there, I played and replayed every move that I had made earlier in the morning. I couldn’t put it out of my mind.
When I arrived and met up with one of my best friends, I blurted out:
You won’t believe what I did this morning. I lost my Fitbit, right in my own home.
Jenni knows me all too well:
How do you know whether you’re alive?
I don’t know. Without my Fitbit, I’m not alive! I have no stats whatsoever! I’m not even sure that my heart is beating.
I managed to distract myself from time to time during our three-hour celebration, but as soon as I started my drive back home I replayed, once again, every move that I had made.
As soon as I walked in the front door, I decided to get out my brightest flashlight and shine it systematically everywhere throughout the house. The damned Fitbit had to be there, somewhere. I looked all over the floors. I looked on top of every piece of furniture. I looked behind every piece of furniture. I wanted my damn Fitbit, dammit, and I wanted it right then and there. I hope that you are sensing my desperation.
What I did not want were the cobwebs that I found. Yes. Cobwebs. Now I was doubly horrified! For real. I was appalled. In fact, my heart sank, even if I didn’t have my Fitbit to log and record the sinking. How could this be? I mean. I know that I tease a lot about housecleaning. Who does not remember my riveting post “My Imaginary Guests“? More important, I had cleaned house thoroughly for my Thanksgiving guests. And the month before I had cleaned house thoroughly for Veteran’s Day guests. And I could keep rolling the calendar back, and I could keep talking about how I cleaned house for this occasion or that occasion or for this guest or for that guest.
But what good would that do me? I had shined a light, and I had seen those cobwebs. The horror or it all. Cobwebs. I thought that I was doing a near spic-and-span job with my cleaning.
My first impulse was to have at the damned cobwebs that had taken me unawares. But how could I? I wanted them gone. All gone. Right now. That would require tackling my entire home, room-by-room.
My second thought was simple:
This is no big deal. Sit down and work out a plan.
That’s just what I did. But alas! As I worked out my plan, I became even more horrified.
The cobwebs that I had found–the cobwebs that I didn’t even know were lurking in unseen and unvisited spots–were real ones. Their little filament lines looked like fluffy dust streamers. And from time to time I could even see anchor points attaching the web to the walls.
But somehow I started thinking about metaphorical cobwebs. What cobwebs would I find if I shined a light into the nooks and crannies, the corners and crevices, and all of out-of-the-way places in all the other areas of my life. Dare I look? What would I find? Would you be brave enough to look at your metaphorical cobwebs in the areas of your life? What would you find?
I started thinking about my grieving for my late partner Allen. Am I as healed and whole as I sometimes think? Or if I shined a bright light, what unexpected cobwebs might I find?
What about my prayers? Am I as celebratory in prayer as I have reason to be? Or if I shined a bright light, would I find myself on my knees only when I have needs?
And, bringing in something seemingly trivial, what about my refusal to talk about that ret—ment thing that other people do all the while that I’m reinventing myself? I wonder what cobwebs I would find if I shined a bright light on that area of my life?
To be certain, we all have areas of our lives where, from time to time, we might benefit by bringing in the light so that we might discover the hidden cobwebs impacting:
● Our physical health.
● Our emotional health.
● Our spiritual well-being.
● Our financial health.
● Our relationships with others–at home, at work, and in our communities.
● Our intellectual growth.
● Our career growth.
● Our downtime and our playtime.
Follow me? Of course, you do. You’ve got your own cobwebs lurking around in your life just as I have them lurking around in mine. Bright light. Bright light.
And what about me and my Fitbit fixation? Dare I shine a bright light on that area of my life? Oops! I think that I just did that in this post.
Oh. By the way. I found my Fitbit, but not with my bright light. When my bright light efforts failed, I broke down and bought the Find My Fitbit app for $5.89. You bet. It’s a real app, and it really works. It led me right to where my Fitbit had fallen down between the bathroom wall and the back of the toilet tank.
I was thrilled that I found it. I was thrilled that I was whole once more. But I was even more thrilled that I had found far more than my Fitbit.