It's All About The Steps (70K, to be exact)

Hey, Fats Domino! I'm walkin', yes indeed; and I'm talkin'...(about the Fitbit). Whether clip-on model or wristband, at the very least it measures steps taken and calories burned - and all of the information is stored to see on a mobile app or a full dashboard online.

My niece got me into it, and she and two of her twenty-something friends were my first Fitbit friends - happy are the days I pull ahead of them. One week, and I was hooked!  (But I waited for a full month to write about it to see if it was true love, because 1.] I have a habit of sabotaging myself at the three-week point; and 2.] I sort of believe in the concept that if you do something for 30 days, it's a habit. Unless you sabotage yourself at four weeks. So far, so good.)

What makes Fitbit such a no-brainer (and probably all of the other trackers out there, though I don't have first-hand experience with anything else) is this: IT DOESN'T RELY ON YOUR BRAIN! It removes a lot of the worry about not exercising, about making sure you get your minimum 30 minutes or more of high activity a day, about feeling guilty every morning...you get the picture. Some smarty pants figured out that if you create a gadget that makes it fun to walk at least 10,000 steps a day and 70,000 a week, that's a concept most people can get their minds around. Depending on your stride, that could be just under five miles a day, right on the nose, or over it. This small doo-dad takes movement to the lowest denominator and serves it up with some generous helpings of competition and engagement. In fact, if it were a book, it would be called "Movement for Dummies."

I like knowing what I've accomplished every day. And if I've not reached my quota toward the end of a day, I've dutifully gotten up and walked another two or three thousand steps on the treadmill to complete the cycle. I like "competing" with other Fitbit users, although once, when I thought I was totally beating my niece, she informed me that she'd lost her Fitbit for two days. And I like getting badges! Yes, y'all, you get badges at various points: for the first 5K steps you log; then 10K, 20K, 25K, 30K... I  believe they reward up to 50K steps in a day and then they don't have any more to send you. Because if you walk or run that much in a day they figure you don't need encouragement from them. You just need some Gatorade and ice packs.

In January 2014, a report from consumer market research analyst NPD Group said that Fitbit shipped 67 percent of all activity tracking devices in 2013, and also accounted for 77 percent of the “full body activity trackers” shipped during the five weeks leading up to Christmas. Flabbergasting! (Or, more accurately, flabberbusting.)  That's a lot of measured walking and running and calorie-counting going on out there. Well, let me correct myself. That's a lot of trackers being sold - whether they're being used is another story. But something tells me there's a little bit of magic in this tiny contraption.

Maybe I'll take a page from Noel Coward's book and start sending Fitbits to anyone who gets on my nerves. He's the one who said “I like long walks, especially when they are taken by people who annoy me.”



  © 2014 A Bit of Brie/Anitabrie

I Fell in Love...And Doggone It, I Can't Forget Him

Rocco in repose.

Full disclosure: I and my family members have never been dog people. Growing up, my sibs and I had one cat, Max (named after the Get Smart character) who ate when he wanted to, took care of his own ablutions, fertilized the flower beds so we didn't have to "do the doo," and slept on our backs when we did our homework tummy-down on the living room floor. More of a fixture than a pet, really.

As an adult, I traveled a fair amount in my early and mid-career, so continuing the cat tradition just made practical sense. And I've had one incredibly sweet calico and a few other independent tabbies along the way. Low-maintenance love.

But a month ago, I was (bow)wowed when I visited my sister and she'd just caved to her kids' request for a dog. OH. MY. GOSH. It took me two minutes to lose my heart to my new "nephew." Rocco is a rescue, part-chihuahua-part-something-else-really-cute, eight pounds of adorable who still has that puppy smell (which is mighty appealing—kind of like how that new car smell is so much better than old car smell).

A friend suggested this caption: "You want it WHEN?"

He rolled and quivered and jackrabbit-jumped and licked and skidded and teethed and tugged and begged and fake-growled and then, exhausted, napped before starting it all over again...and I couldn't keep my eyes or my hands off of him.

And just when I thought I'd seen all the charm and winsomeness in his puppy portfolio, he cocked his head and flipped his ears all around and did a great impression of a cartoon dog.

So yes, I'm in love. My dear departed Italian mom would approve of a guy named Rocco. And though I'm not yet in the right place for a dog, and I know my sister's kids would never hand him over, I bet there's a Rocco out there for me when I'm ready. Because I'm starting to think I might be a dog person after all.

© 2014 A Bit of Brie/Anitabrie