During COVID, when gyms were closed and we were all stuck at home, I decided to take up running. Like any good millennial, I tracked every run with the Nike Run Club app until one day it crashed and all my hard-earned stats disappeared.
It may sound dramatic, but I literally quit running because of it. What was the point if I no longer had the data to prove my progress? I didn’t want to start over, even though I knew I’d been consistently running. Without the app, I didn’t have “proof.” How silly is that?
These days, I’m (slightly) less dramatic and rigid about tracking my workouts—but I’d be lying if I said I don’t still keep tabs on it all. That said, I’ve started to wonder: when does “optimizing” our health and fitness actually become a source of stress?
If we know we did the thing, why do we need an app to validate it?
We live in a world where instant feedback and quantifiable progress are the norm. Whether it’s an Oura Ring, Garmin watch, Fitbit, or Apple Watch, there’s a gadget for everything. Each offers a different set of data points, but let’s be honest, they often miss a lot of context. And in some cases, they may do more harm than good to our mental and physical health.
Personally, I use a Fitbit to track my workouts and sleep. Recently, the app added a new feature that evaluates whether I’m:
Undertraining
At risk of undertraining
Maintaining fitness
At risk of overtraining
Overtraining
On paper, it seems helpful. But in practice, it’s been… mentally exhausting.
I like to think I’m pretty in tune with my body—when it needs rest, when it can push, and when it’s somewhere in between. But when a watch starts telling me I’m “at risk of undertraining” after a day of not wearing it? It messes with my head. Of course, my data looks off—I didn’t wear it. But I did train.
Even more confusing? The feedback often changes after a simple app refresh. One minute, it tells me I’m overtraining, the next, it says I’m maintaining. So… which is it?
The same goes for sleep tracking. I love that sleep has become something we prioritize and even gamify. But I’ve had mornings where I wake up feeling refreshed and ready to take on the day—only to be told I had “poor sleep.” Shouldn’t I trust how I feel? After all, how accurate is that data, really?
Don’t get me wrong—I’m all about optimizing my health. I eat nutrient-dense foods, I prioritize rest, and I move my body consistently. But I’m starting to ask the question: Are our fitness trackers actually helping us live better lives? Or are they just adding one more thing to obsess over?
If this resonated with you—or made you question your own relationship with fitness tracking—I’d love to hear your thoughts⤵️ Have you ever let a device dictate how you feel about your health?
Written by Liz Hund.
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