The Fiercest Competitor

There was a time in my life when I thought Eli Young Band's song, Guinevere, was written about me. 

She don't hold onto nothin' new for very long
Yeah she writes you in as just one more tale
and then you're gone

But then something changed. 
I found something I didn't want to let go of. 
I found something that completely captivated my attention. 
I found something that I've actually held onto - quite closely - since it came into my life.

A Fitbit.

Yep. A a small rubber bracelet with a tiny chip inside that daily tracks my water intake and  steps, all while basically gauging my self perception and appreciation. 
I'm serious. 
It's come to that. 

Maybe we should rewind. 
I've never been a really competitive person. 
I know what I want, I go after it and all works out in the end. 
I also believe this to my very core:

I think my lack of competitive spirit began in third grade when Torri Richardson and I agreed to race across the gym and the first to reach Jason Ward was his girlfriend (unbeknownst to him). I got half court and realized 1) I was out of breath 2) I had too much to live for rather than have a boyfriend. I lost interest and moved on to the next third-grade-amusement. I think it was lunch. 

But then Fitbit rolled into my life three weeks ago and I've found myself doing crazy things to compete with it, to beat it, to conquer it, daily. You see, a Fitbit tracks your goals for exercise and activity, so each morning I wake up with a blank slate and a bazillion steps to take.
Maybe not a bazillion, but pretty darn close. 

On the weekends I can fly right past my activity goal. Building fence, chasing cows, running errands...all contribute to a gal on the go. 
But come Monday morning I'm as sedentary as a headstone. A heavy, ugly one, going nowhere. 
So I've found ways to increase my walking during the day. 
Working out, you ask?
Using the Cardinal Greenway, you ask?

Nope:

Two weeks ago I got into the habit of eating my lunch in shifts:
Walk down to the break room, get out my hard boiled eggs, take them back to my office, eat them. 
Walk down to the break room, get out my string cheese, take it back to my office, eat it. 
Walk down to the break room, get out my yogurt, take it back to my office, eat it. 
Walk down to the break room, throw away all of my trash.
= 311 steps and comfortable shoes
(I really hope my boss doesn't read this entry.)

For three straight Sundays I've walked to the mailbox to get the mail, then had to act surprised when there was nothing there. 
=284 steps and some good acting

When we're together, Cody now has to park in the farthest parking spot from our destination. Annoying for him, especially when we got to church late Sunday and someone was in our familiar pew. I guess that's the problem with a service full of back row Baptists? We went up to the balcony. 
= 210 steps, stairs included (which should count for double)

Last week we had lunch at the local Mexi joint and Cody was on the phone when we arrived. He stayed in the truck to finish his conversation. I hopped out of the truck and proceeded to walk circles around it; circling the truck like a shark waiting for a canoe of kittens to capsize. By the time we got into the restaurant I was so dizzy Pedro seated us in the handicap booth. 
= 437 steps and an annoyed husband

But the problem with this strange obsession isn't with my newfound commitment to taking the long way. The problem lies in how often I check my steps. Last Sunday I checked my Fitbit three times during the one-hour service. Turns out standing and sitting for hymns doesn't count towards steps. Dang. 
I've even checked it while riding as a passenger in a car, and while my steps didn't increase with each mile traveled (dang) I did catch myself daydreaming at the thought of turning the miles into steps...

Just imagine how bright 

those little lights 

of approval and success 

would twinkle

As the song Guinevere says, I generally don't hold onto anything new for very long. I move on. But I have yet to get there with my Fitbit. Being down 7 pounds from the day I began using it may have something to do with it, despite still eating pork rinds for breakfast. 
FACT: I'll stick with anything that cancels out pork rinds.

Now, if you'll excuse me...I'm 417 steps away from beating my personal goal for the day and all of the chores are done. This means I'll need to make 138 laps around the coffee table before I'm allowed to sleep tonight.