Measuring Tool

Today's trail used to be a railroad line. No more trains or tracks, this stretch is now covered in pavement, perfect for my bicycle. Leaning against the back fence for months, her boredom and loneliness finally broke me and we rode. Beautiful sunshine, not very crowded and my legs are protesting ever so slightly at this unfamiliar activity. It's been way too long since this sweet feeling of freedom has been enjoyed. Wind in my face and a wee bit of speed makes me wonder why this pleasure was pushed aside. Crunch! An early fall leaf meets my tire. Crunch, crunch, crunch, a few more obstacles to navigate. This sound makes me crazy happy...not sure why and I don't care why.

On I ride with the glistening river to my right and traffic to the left. In spite of the cars, this trail is lovely as it winds along the river. Families are gathered along the river banks as sounds of chilly water squeals rise up from delighted kids. Further along there is music and two large pop-up tents to shelter a celebrating crowd. Birthday, reunion, wedding? All I see are a bunch of people having fun and I smile as the trail continues past the golf course.

I can smell the blackberries before I come upon the giant patch. Warmed by the sun and perfectly ripe, the road is almost completely blocked by all the kids, buckets, dogs and munching. More berries are landing in their stomachs than in the containers patiently waiting to be filled. I back off on the peddles and breath deeply, almost tasting the delicious bounty of berries by scent alone.

Nearing the last stretch before my turn-around at the bridge, I pass a gentleman relaxing on one of the park benches and this grabs my attention. When was the last time I sat on a bench in the park and relaxed? I slow my pace. There is no hurry. This is not a race.

Up ahead is a runner, checking her watch. As I approach, she checks it yet again. Possibly a training run or maybe tracking her distance. I am reminded of our need to measure. Everything. All of the time. And, of course, I wonder if this is truly helpful.

Hiking, biking, running, steps, REM cycles, screen time. There are reminders we can set so we don't sit too long, sleep too late and even eat too much. We can track our calories, monitor our heart rate, blood oxygen levels and on and on and on. Did I get 10,000 steps in today? Does that give me a "win" and now I'm done? What if I only got 7,000? Do I feel slightly defeated and beat myself up over this "failure"?

I was a tad curious about my time on the bike today, but only so that I know how much time this particular ride will usually take as I plan for the next outing. Do I care how many miles, the cadence or power output? No, not today. I simply went on a bike ride to the end of the trail and back again. I showed up, I rode, had fun and got some exercise in as a nice side-effect.

The heavy reliance on technology to measure our lives can lead to an unbalanced perspective. It takes away the connection we need to have with our bodies. We hand over the reins to the watch. The tool is in control of our progress and let's us know when we've improved or fallen short. Our ability to intuitively know our limits and possibly have a little fun with movement for movements' sake is far beyond what this tool can provide. The charts, graphs, measures and reminders are a disruption to my daily flow and it can't tell me how I feel.

Today's ride was certainly more than a leisurely tootle along the country back road, but not much more. I love to ride for many reasons and sometimes I am training for something very specific. Fretting about taking 10 seconds off my time introduces an added stress. Worried about my goal, would I have slowed down to easily weave through the berry pickers or would I have become frustrated at the delay that cost me the PR for the day?

My hope is that you'll discover your own personal balance between technology, tools and life. Push hard, track steps and time when you need to, then put the measuring stick away. It's a tool, not a life monitor. Enjoy your walk, your steps, your ride. Remain connected to what the experience is and how wonderful you feel. Lean on yourself, not the watch.

"The journey of 1,000 miles begins with a single step" ... Lao Tzu

I'm fairly certain he didn't worry about or track the specific number of steps taken to get there. Make sure you're working toward your goal, your destination and not distracted by all the counting.