34 levels.”įitbit is he app-otheosis of digital trends. He consulted his watch and said “120 over 70.” Last weekend, on one of our app-orientated ambles, we met and asked a man for the time. “ What an adorable little Charge Soft Gold Charge.” “What a cute Lunar White Fitbit Inspire 2!” Now, we just fulsomely admire their water-resistant, self-tracking applications. We ignore their cute little dachshunds and pass no admiring remarks about their pedigree Alsatians. We meet fellow walkers out for a bit of bracing body data. Wellness trackers are now man’s best friend.
Then five minutes more while she dials into her G new photoplethysmography algorithm to identify any atrial fibrillation risk. Then, I wait outside the back door for five minutes while she checks whether she needs to go to the loo or not and check whether she has had enough roughage. You can’t beat a couple of hours’ regular quanti-metric self-sensoring.” I’m up for bit of outdoor journaling and in the mood to study the personal temporal associations between exercise and mood. “Let’s go out and feel some sun on our faces,” I might suggest, shrugging into my kagoule.Īnd my wife, tightening her wristband, replies “ Yes. We go out to generate, collect and collate information.
She feels naked, fat, ill, under-exercised and death-threatened without it.įitbit has transformed her life. Her smart watch is an essential part of her wardrobe. My wife is a modern wireless-enabled woman. When we got married, I didn’t know I was marrying a pedometer and altimeter. When I married her, I didn’t know what a large amount of data my wife contained. We used to listen to our left hand to see if our watch was still working. And all diligently listening to and responding first and foremost to our wrists.
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