10,000 steps a day or bust

About a year ago, Laura and I bought Fitbits, little pedometers that sync with your computer and tell you more than you want to know about how active you've been. It cajoles, silently, if you haven't moved in awhile. Like this:

The Fitbit fits in your pocket or, the instructions say, on your bra strap. I remember those. Bra straps. They were a pain. But it was nice being someone who had bra straps.

When I got my Fitbit, I promised myself to take 10,000 steps a day. For me, at my height and step length, that's a little over four and a half miles. I've exceeded that goal all but 4 or 5 days in the past year. I took off a couple of days after the hysterectomy, and a day for thumb surgery. La made me.

But overall, I am a walking fool. My days are constructed around my steps; I book clients with an eye to when I'll be able to get in a long walk. Ask anyone in Farmington Village, and they will be glad to finally have the chance to acknowledge that they see me walking all the time, and they've wondered about it. Let me know what they say. I can remember the walkers I've seen in my lifetime -- you know: the ones who are always out walking, and you just wonder what's up with that. Like, if they're okay.

I am okay. I'm a little compulsive about getting my 10,000 steps, but it works for me. I'm determined to stay healthy, and it helps me to have pillars to my days. In fact, I have a little poster on the fridge that says:

As of tonight, my Fitbit tells me I've walked 4,742,300 steps in the last year. Doesn't that sound like a lot? It's only about 2,000 miles. When the Fitbit site gave me a little virtual badge for having walked to the border of Utah, or something like that, it didn't seem like much of an accomplishment at all. Who wants to walk to Utah? You want to walk to the moon, right? I have 236,900 miles to go to get my moon badge.

On these wicked cold days, though, it's tough. The day before yesterday, I just couldn't. I just couldn't go out in the cold. But the Fitbit was counting for me, counting on me. So, as I've done on a few days of unbearable weather in the past year, I walked 10,000 steps in the house.

Do you know how long four and a half miles is/are inside a house? Those dotted kid trails in "The Family Circus" are nothing compared to logging four and a half miles inside your house. You walk through the family room, around the office, through the living room (stopping to bounce on the trampoline, mebbe), around the dining room table a few times, through the kitchen, maybe up the back stairs if you're feeling game, then back down the front stairs and back into the family room. Then repeat. As I cooked and then washed dishes, I ran in place. I opened the mail, running in place. It felt endless. After half of forever, I checked the Fitbit: 5340 steps. Are you kidding me?

Laura has her Fitbit, too, but she doesn't have the same issue with completion. Every now and then she remembers to stick her Fitbit in her pocket; sometimes it's charged, sometimes it's not. I envy that ho-humness and she envies my determination. But these are the times when it's kind of a good thing not to have Laura home, you know? I think this might actually drive her up a wall.

Back when Bear was alive and chipper, he was witness to a couple of these strange days. He'd follow me around the dining room table...the first 6 times. And then he'd be, like, screw it. She's obviously not going anywhere.