Crack pipe for the fitness obsessed

F you Nike Fuel.

My husband was a bit of an obsessive compulsive before.  Raised in a military household, you could almost hear Revelry playing in his head as he rose at dawn.  He literally jumps out of bed into his clothes every morning, and before the water has heated for coffee, plans for the day are strategized and mapped.

This is not me. I’m a stare into space well into lunch kind of girl. I like a morning where speaking consists of “Sorry, didn’t know you were in there,” and “Just a little milk, please.” That’s it. Let’s keep all of our thoughts, ideas, wishes and agendas until after lunch. If God wanted to know what you were thinking before noon, he would have thrown mass later into the day.

The Nike FuelBand, for those of you Luddites, couch potatoes, or people like myself who have no idea that technology and physical fitness could get any more obsessive, is a tracking service that monitors your calorie intake, physical exertion and fitness progress.  The system does this by tracking your every move via a bracelet that is worn and collects and compiles data on the Nike fitness site.  The bracelet shows you through a series of red to green lights how much more you need to work out that day (you wake up each day on red, as if that isn’t instantly stressful), tracks your steps with a pedometer, reminds you of how many calories you are allowed, and thoughtfully also gives you the time – aka tracking the minutes until your demise.  On the Nike website, you are able to monitor your progress, compare yourself to other fitness minded people, and get resources to increase your progress towards The Ultimate You.

My husband purchased this additive of insanity just 2 days ago.  It is Sunday morning, daylight savings morning, which means we get an extra hour to sleep in.  But Nike Fuel says otherwise.  This morning he was up at 8am vacuuming the house and throwing away the children’s toys… all the while watching to see how many steps Fuel calculated.  Breakfast consisted of hot water with lemon and coffee, while he rearranged the living room and announced to our children that “Sunday is a work day if I’m going to get all of my steps in for the day.”  By 9:00 (8:00 DST), he had almost finished closing the pool – IN HIS UNDERWEAR – certain that he would burn more calories if he was working outside in 40 degree weather and had to maintain his body temperature.  By 10am, myself and the children were loaded up in the car, heading out to test whether or not bouncing on the trampoline at my parent’s house would significantly increase his “progress towards green.”

I’m excited that he is interested in getting healthy. I want him alive and kicking to watch our girls grow up and get married. I can’t imagine spending any time on this marble without him by my side. And, if I’m going to be completely honest here, I’m tired of cooking fantastic meals from scratch that are low in gluten, fat, and sugar, only to find balled up cheeseburger wrappers in the door of our car. I suppose that I should be jumping for joy that he’ll finally be joining me as I juice greens for breakfast and walk from the far side of the parking lot at the grocery store. But I’m less than thrilled. And here’s why…

Because a nagging fancy bracelet is more effective than his nagging not-so-fancy wife.

F you Nike Fuel. You win this one… for now.
 

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