I bought my husband a Fitbit watch for his birthday. He had the Zip that he used for a long time, but he’d forget it at home often and I thought it was time for him to have something attached to him. The Blaze has more features, and he’s started to set goals and make sure to walk hourly, so he’s healthier, which is an added bonus.
My bonus is that I have his old one. It’s a pain in the neck to remember to stick it in my pocket every day, especially since most of my clothes don’t actually have pockets, but I’m trying. The first time I used it, I dropped it on the beach and had to go racing back to find it. I’m at the point where I’m trying to balance remembering it and not getting obsessive about it.
I might be failing.
This weekend, I decided to challenge my husband. He walks way more than I do. There was no chance I would win. Not legitimately, anyway. But with only a few hours before the time limit, I was almost close enough to beat him. Then he pulled ahead. With an hour left to go, we went to sleep. Well, he did. I lay there, waiting for his breathing to even out and for him to fall deep enough asleep for me to be able to sneak out of bed and go downstairs, walking around in circles until I nudged ahead. I was almost foiled by the Fitbit not syncing, but I made it.
I was sneaky and underhanded. He wasn’t pleased when he woke up to find out I’d won in such a manner. I’ll never be able to pull it off again.
But it might make up for him making me think I could beat him at ping pong, only to pause halfway through and inform me, “I am not left-handed.”