I’ve been big my whole life. Too big. Uncomfortably big. Unhealthily big. You get the point.
That was then.
This is now.
I’m taking steps at home to become a healthy dad.
Big steps.
I write for a living which by definition, save for those who dare rock a treadmill desk, isn’t the most physically active career pursuit. I do fancy a nice walk though.
Because there’s nothing a writer likes more than finding reasons not to write, I am on the move throughout my days at home; doing laundry, vacuuming up the extra cats-worth of grey cat hair splayed out onto the carpet, scooping the poop that same grey cat couldn’t manage to get into the litter box, peeling and chopping veggies in the kitchen, and making beds. Rarely do I sit motionless.
I’m a whirlwind of domestication.
When I do write, it’s often while upright, not on a treadmill though, with my laptop perched high atop my bureau; legs marching in place, calves flexing, body swaying from side to side.
I’m a human fidget spinner. Cool long before the craze caught on.
None of that is particularly new.
Throughout my accidental writerly life, my weight, heavy as I had gotten, had for the most part plateaued. I think my penchant for finding productive ways to be unproductive at home was the reason why. Through my inability to remain still, I managed to make a sedentary life move just enough to counteract the breads and cereals I’d eat every day.
My home is an elongated rancher that isn’t big in a textbook sense, but does seem to go on and on. I always wondered how far I must be traveling from one end to another, over and over again each day, and how many calories are being burned by beating a path between the laundry room in the east and master bedroom way out west.
There was, however, no way I was ever going to wear one of those prison bracelet bits on my arm to find the answers.
A Withings Steel HR activity tracker watch (thanks, Withings!) arrived last week and I was like, alright alright, this is pretty fly.
The silicone band is silky smooth, like black fondant. It’s lies soft and creamy against your skin. The face is elegant, minimalist but there, ya know, not a blank shiny square. It is something, and it says something about you, in more ways than one.
Your activity the Withings Steel HR is tracking is a push, push, push away. The information is not at all intrusive and never takes away from the high-end vibe of the watch. It counts steps, miles and give a heart rate on command, and does all that with impeccable style. And this beaut automatically is in lock-step with the Withings Health Mate app.
Beautiful and brilliant. Just like you. Just like me.
I’ve taken to wearing this sleek piece of time tech as I move about my home, still hobbled at the minute by the nerve issue in my right leg but moving nonetheless. I just can’t stay still, nerve pain or not. I can see that I am indeed burning calories by taking a lot of steps – I KNEW IT!
A lot of calories. A lot of steps. On the trail and at home.
When I step up onto the Withings Body Cardio scale I can now see the tangible evidence of all my writing avoidance because I began to hike down from the plateau once I finally kissed bread and cereal goodbye on the Monday after Thanksgiving. I’m watching the weight drip off me, 45 pounds or thereabouts so far, all while standing at my bureau, fetching the laundry, scooping poop, and making beds. I’m watching my percentage of body fat tilt toward the good too.
I’m taking big steps at home to be a healthier dad, even though those steps are sometimes only going back and forth, forth and back whilst not writing. Meanwhile, all the while, the Withings Steel HR and Body Cardio scale are showing me that I’m taking steps in the right direction.
*Withings provided the tech and compensation to facilitate this story. All opinions expressed above are honest and unbiased, as always. I have lost nearly 45 pounds since the Monday after Thanksgiving, would never buy or wear a prison bracelet ‘bit’ to get fit, rarely ever sit still, and think that the Steel HR watch is freaking gorgeous.
