A WORD (OR TWO HUNDRED) FROM THE EDITOR

With the festive season in full swing, many of us are thinking that perhaps it’s time to cut down on indulgences and up the exercise a little. Similar thoughts led us to book an appointment at a gym many years ago where a personal trainer walked us through what he thought my husband and I needed.

But seeing all the superfit people there, I concluded that I needed to get fit before I walked into a gym. Much like I clean before the cleaning ladies’ visit. “Why do you treat everything like a visit from a mother-in-law?” asked my friend, exasperated. For the record, my mother-in-law was the sweetest and most non-judgemental person ever.

But back to getting fit. It was clear I wasn’t going to commit to a long relationship with a gym, but I could walk! I love walking around the neighbourhood, on trails, and in foul weather, on walking tracks at the community centre – though there the competitive spirit kicks in as I walk faster and faster to keep in step with people ahead of me.

This was around the time pedometers were all the rage and everyone became fixated on 10,000 steps. I bought a fancy one from a fitness store but forgot to clip it on more often that not and it languished in a drawer as I continued on my walks, unfettered.

Then my son introduced me to a step tracker on my phone. It was like a personal trainer in my pocket, chiding me for taking fewer steps one day, encouraging me another day by showing how I was “trending higher”.

Recently, he presented me with a Fitbit, and my walking really took off. But I was being congratulated for more steps than I had taken. 

I got the Sneakers badge for walking 10,000 steps or the Urban Boot badge for 15,000 steps – well before my day had really begun. One day I earned the London Underground badge and another, I had walked to the moon and back.

A simple Google search revealed that others were also asking about false “hand” steps, a possibility for any wrist-worn tracker. Advice included wearing it on one’s non-dominant hand, but “make sure in your setting you tell it that it’s worn on the dominant hand”.

I was grumbling about the silliness of it all when the littlest member of the family who takes his role as our next generation tech support very seriously piped in with his offer to fix it for me the next time he was with us for a sleepover. “I’ll sync your Fitbit with your phone – until then, just enjoy the rewards!” he said with a wide grin.

My husband spotted signs of my going into raptures over this out-of-the-mouths-of-babes moment and before I could read deep philosophy in it, reminded me that this is the same child who has tried to convince me that his chacha’s (uncle’s) cat can teleport. 

I hear him, but I can’t help smiling the next time the fireworks go off on my wrist. Never mind what my phone app is telling me, I am enjoying the rewards. And life is beautiful.

Happy Guru Nanak Jayanti!

Shagorika Easwar