Tag Archives | walking

I’ve been fitbit

It started innocently enough. A friend of mine who just had her second child bought herself a fitbit, a little piece of digitized plastic that tracks how many steps you take in a day, the miles you walk, and the calories you burn.  Or the lack thereof, depending.

R. swore by her little doodad; she walked and she walked and now, damned if she isn’t on week four of a  couch to 5K program.  She swears the fitbit got her moving.

How could a little piece of plastic with a happy face on it motivate a person, I thought to myself, tossing another handful of candy corn into my mouth.

Here’s the thing: in New York, people walk. New Yorkers walk everywhere and if we’re not walking, we’re running to the subway, hauling ass up and down the stairs.  New Yorkers are like sharks: stop moving and we’ll die.

But out here in the land of cheap gas and big cars?  It’s a bit like walking in LA: people do it, but everyone around you thinks you’re a lunatic.  Plus the long distances between, say, where you live and where your children play football every damn day because you’re a spineless parent who didn’t say no exercise their angelic bodies on the football pitch, necessitate driving, which is why my butt is slowly morphing into the shape of my car seat.

Besides, we are moving into the season of festive eating, which will be followed quickly by the season of omigodimturningfifty and I think it’s time that I rid myself of that pesky baby weight.  The baby just turned nine, and although I hate to rush into anything, I guess I’d like to start my next decade sylph-shaped rather than car-shaped.

I swallowed my skepticism (along with more candy corn) and bought a fitbit.  Not the super-duper fitbit that measures everything, even the efficiency of my sleep (It’s simple: I don’t get enough sleep. Don’t need a piece of plastic to tell me that: just look at the baggage under my eyes.)

For the past few weeks, I’ve had the fitbit clipped to my pocket and every night it syncs to my computer.  It’s a little bit addictive, I have to say.  A person doesn’t want to think she can be so easily manipulated motivated by smiley faces and cheerful messages but . . . the other day I was in my office and had about 45 minutes before my next meeting. Usually I would check in on my other addiction — Tom and Lorenzo — but instead I went for a little walk outside.  Added a few thousand steps to my daily total … all in search of a CHAMP! button.

I don’t know if I’ve lost any weight yet, but now that I’ve finished the candy corn (imported from the States by a visiting friend, who I’m not sure I should thank or curse), I have a fighting chance. And yes, I know I could just choose not to eat the candy corn, but that seems just silly, given that Josh went to all the trouble of bringing it from Brooklyn.

I’m going to fitbit myself all the way to fifty, I guess, but just look at that little smiling face.  Wouldn’t that face make you take an extra step or two?






Continue Reading · on November 28, 2013 in Abu Dhabi, aging, exercise, growing up, me my own personal self, NaBloPoMo


I wanted to write a post about Christmas, about family, about remembering my own childhood Christmases and feeling connected to my mom, who is out in the snowy midwest celebrating with my brother and sister and their families.  We New Yorkers couldn’t face traveling, so we stayed here, visited with Husband’s family and now apparently are waiting for a Big Blizzard, (which means the boys run to the window every 20 minutes to report on whether or not the snow has started.)

It was going to be a post not prompted by reverb10; it was going to border on maudlin, dabble in sentiment, trot out images of pajama-wearing children past and present, that sort of thing.

This is not that post. And given the “It’s a Wonderful Life” tone I had in mind, perhaps that’s for the best.

We had Christmas Eve here with Husband’s family, whose tradition was always to open presents on Christmas Eve – we had presents and laughter, and some lovely champagne – and on Christmas morning the boys waited until the ripe old hour of 6:24AM to wake us up and let us know that Santa had eaten the cookies we left him and left a note. In blue ink (which I had carefully scrubbed off my fingers before falling into bed in the wee hours of the morning).

We fobbed them off with their Santa stockings until after breakfast (my family’s tradition), and then there was the standard Christmas mayhem: wrapping paper everywhere, ribbons flying, and the inevitable package wrestling, which raises for me this question: why do toy companies make such an effort to sell us their products and then make the packaging utterly resistant to human hands? Do they think we’ll give up on one box and just go buy another one, in hopes that perhaps it was packed on a Monday by someone with a hangover?

I don’t know if you can tell from this picture, but the plastic widgety bits were actually attached with screws. We had to dig out a screwdriver and pliers just to get the damn car out of the box.

Post-gift, we trooped uptown to see Husband’s father, where the boys and their auntie played Rummikub and enjoyed some really spirited bickering over the rules. Me? I know Christmas is about togetherness but I took myself for a long walk through Riverside Park.  The air smelled like the river and woodsmoke, and it was very quiet.

Christmas is where you find it–not just the walk, but also in the deliciously fuzzy mitten-gloves (mitloves, the boys call them) that you can see at the bottom edge of this picture.

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Continue Reading · on December 26, 2010 in Children, family

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