Impressing my phone

My phone thinks it's so smart. Some time ago I discovered the fitness app built into my iPhone. It has been recording my daily steps without my knowledge or permission. Now that I have discovered this trove of health data, I can also get snarky evaluations of my activity.

"You are not taking as many steps this week as last week at this time."

"Your average step count is about the same as last year."

It will also tell me about my "Walking Asymmetry." Right now that metric is 18.8%. Seriously. My phone thinks I walk like a drunken sailor staggering across the deck in 10' swells. 

This app also reports that I have climbed 3 flights of stairs. Really? I have been up and down the ladder to clean gutters (3x), up and down the stairs from the basement (4x), and walked untold hills at the farm. You think you're so smart.

For a while there I got addicted to my step count. Previously on vacation I would work for at least 10k steps per day. I would pace around the cottage late at night, just to break the barrier. Ha Ha! I then decided to keep the streak alive after vacation and have 10k steps every day for a month! I don't think I ever achieved that.

I caught myself going to the mailbox or the refrigerator without my phone, and lamenting: "I'm not getting credit for these steps!" Then I would pick up my phone and walk a few extra steps to make up for it. 

Last month I realized that I am trying to impress my phone. And my phone is rarely impressed. It doesn't give me confetti or cheers for, well, anything. It just says, "You are walking more this month, on average, than last month." Not sure I can handle such effusive praise. Besides, my phone is a lousy counter anyway. And I don't have (or want) a smart watch, which I assume would be more accurate.

So, when we went to the beach in early May, I put my phone in its place. I left it on the table and did not carry it all week. I still walked on the sand and rode my bike all around Oak Island. But my phone did not make the trips. My goal was to have days with "No Data." I achieved this goal three times. Take that, you nosy phone.

I broke the habit of trying to impress my phone. At this point I can tell when I have walked 10k steps in a day. I don't need my phone to corroborate. In fact, I had not even opened up my fitness app in a couple of weeks. (I just opened it today to take screen shots.) No longer do I reach the end of the day feeling bummed about a mere 9200 steps. I'm not really tempted to be a couch potato. I like to stay active. But I don't need my phone's approval.

Staying away from my fitness app has given me an unexpected sense of freedom.

And to think, 10 years ago I lived every day like this. I like being free again.

Zero to 60

It took more than 5.7 seconds for me to get from zero to 60. They say that time goes faster as you get older. They are right. 

I kind of liked my 50s. It was a decade of realized maturity. Probably no one else realized that I was so mature, but I did. An age in the 50s sounds like you are old enough to be good at something, but not so old that you need help up the stairs. I try to be good at some things. Sometimes I fake it. Sometimes people surprise me when they say I'm good at some things.

Now, as I venture into my 60s--and really I have no choice--it seems like the "mature" thing might loom larger than the "being good at something." When people are in their 60s, people may be surprised when you just look good. Eyes open, no cane in sight, zipper closed, nothing to be wiped off your face. I generally try to look good, but I'm not sure I'm very good at looking good. No one has ever surprised me by telling me that I'm good at looking good. 

By now I should know what I am good at. I'm good at being on time. I was late for my haircut yesterday, and the barber was surprised. He knows I'm always on time. Sometimes I'm early. He's early too. Except yesterday, when we were both late. Good timing.

I'm good at waving at my neighbors. Sometimes I feel guilty if I'm too preoccupied to raise my hand. Some of my neighbors are good at waving and some are not. Some neighbors will keep their heads down, carefully avoiding eye-contact. They will only wave if absolutely forced to, like if they accidentally look right at me when I'm waving. They probably wish they were more friendly, so I'm glad to help them get there.

It's harder to prove my maturity. When you get into your 60s, people just know you are mature. In fact, they may be surprised if you don't act maturely. As I think about it, I surprise people with my lack of maturity. That might change tomorrow when I turn 60. 

I plan to make my 60s at least as good as my 50s. In some ways I think my 50s is my best decade yet. That's a good trend. I'm trying to get better at life all along. Some things can't get better, like my eyesight. Other things can get better, like my attitude. I think my attitude is better now than it was 20 years ago. I'm learning not to take myself so seriously.

So, welcome 60s! This could be a seriously fun decade! I just hope I'm mature enough to realize it.

Casting Spells

All my life I've done it,
And to this moment I persist.
Now rarely with much malice,
And sometimes with innocence.

Syllables are spoken,
Strung together with a plan,
Characters on pages
With a purpose so they stand.

The mystery of thoughts expressed
By magic known as words,
Somehow makes a change in you,
And now you understand.

I take you to another realm
Or plant it in your mind.
We walk together in our thoughts
And find new space and time.

The mystery of words is great
When placed together well.
You may not know that when you speak,
You also cast a spell.