For the past 14 months I’ve been in a committed relationship.
We spent every hour together.
Every meal. Every night’s sleep. And we always exercised together.
It’s the longest and most rewarding relationship I’ve ever had. And it all came to a crashing end when this wonderful partner in crime died suddenly last week.
Yes, my Fitbit Charge HR has moved on to that fitness device in the cloud.
By choice <ahem>, I’ve been single more than 40 years in dog years. (Which, oddly enough, is only six months in Fitbit years. Fitbit HR’s are the Candles in the Wind of wearable technologies. They rock hard and burn out fast).
But the Fitbit filled the void, literally paying attention to every single heartbeat in my chest.
Woe is me.
I’ll miss the gentle buzz on my wrist as I reached my daily calorie burn goal. I’ll miss the Ferbie like, multi language “thank you” tributes it paid me every time I fully charged her battery. But most of all, I’ll miss how vastly superior I felt to everyone who wasn’t wearing one.
And now I’m lost.
My last bit of daily physical contact has been taken from me, cruelly and with less than mercy than Drago showed his all of his training apparatuses in Rocky 4 (“Whatever he hits….he destroys!”).
I can no longer share in the smug, unspoken “nice work” head nod, often accompanied by a single wink, when I encounter others who don the Fab Beatrice (that’s her secret callsign amongst Fitbit owners. Don’t tell anyone). The nod that says “hey, all these other losers are just marching to their graves–but not us!”
So, if you’re reading this and still have your Fitbit…hold her close tonight. Take the time to thank her for being so damned wonderful.
And for God’s sake, don’t take her to the beach.