Fitbit told me to rest. I went to Jazzercise anyway.
In my defense, I felt fine.
My Fitbit readiness score, however, was 36, which apparently meant I should slow down, sit down, and perhaps spend the day doing what my Fitbit Coach described as some nice, gentle indoor pinball.
Clearly, Fitbit and I need to have another discussion about what competitive pinball looks like.
But first: Jazzercise #17.
A Short Night of Sleep Is Not the End of the World
Did I get the greatest night’s sleep on the planet?
No.
I went to bed around 11, took a while to fall asleep, and then sometime around 4 a.m., Mr. T decided he needed assistance.
His food bowl was fine.
He was fine.
Everything was fine.
My current theory is that our wonderful new summer blanket—which Andrew and I have dubbed the Magic Cloud Blanket—may be creating a problem for our resident black cat.
The blanket is cool. It’s soft. It’s comfortable. It gives you just enough weight to feel cozy without roasting underneath it during an Arizona summer.
Andrew and I think it is glorious.
Mr. T apparently thinks we have relocated him to the Arctic Circle.
Sometime around 4:30 in the morning, he seems to reach the conclusion that the air conditioning, combined with the Magic Cloud Blanket, has made conditions entirely too chilly for an 11-to-13-pound cat made of pure muscle, bone, and opinions.
His solution, naturally, is to wake us up.
I checked the food bowl. That wasn’t the problem.
So I went back to bed.
Gabby noticed that I had moved and apparently interpreted that as an invitation to play.
Monkey resumed her position on the pillow—the pillow she has apparently owned for the past two years despite the fact that I purchased it for myself.
After negotiating for enough pillow space to keep my neck mostly attached to my body, I eventually went back to sleep.
Then the alarm went off at 7.
Was it a perfect seven hours?
Nope.
Did I get sleep?
Yep.
Did I feel fine?
Also yep.
Apparently, that was not good enough for Fitbit.
I Wear the Fitbit for the Receipts, Not the Permission
I like having the data.
I like seeing my steps, heart rate, sleep, cardio load, and all the other little numbers that give me some objective proof that I am actually doing something.
What I do not particularly enjoy is the constant commentary.
Don’t move enough?
You should move more.
Move more?
Whoa, whoa, whoa. Slow down.
Sleep six hours when your goal is seven?
Perhaps you should cancel your entire life and lie down immediately.
Take a nap because you’re tired?
Have you considered that the nap may have affected your sleep?
Yes, Fitbit. I have considered it.
I was tired.
I took a nap.
It was wonderful.
Seven hours of sleep is a goal. It is not a magical line where seven hours means I am a functional human being and six hours means I should curl up in a corner and expire.
If I need more sleep, I will sleep more.
If I need a nap, I will take a nap.
And if Friday arrives with nothing on the schedule and my body decides it would like to sleep for 14 hours under the Magic Cloud Blanket, so be it.
I wear the Fitbit for the receipts.
Not the permission.
So, despite my readiness score of 36, I headed to Jazzercise.
Coffee, Clouds, and a 9:15 Start
I arrived a little early, which gave me time to sit in the parking lot, drink my coffee, and watch some absolutely gorgeous clouds roll across the Arizona sky.
It was one of those mornings when the sky was putting on a show.
There was no need to rush.
Jazzercise started at 9:15.
Miss Robyn wasn’t there yet.
So I sat in the car, drank my coffee, watched the clouds, and enjoyed the moment.
It was a good morning.
Then Miss Robyn arrived, the doors opened, and it was time for Jazzercise #17.
Low-Impact Cardio Sculpt—and a Very Humid Morning
I did my usual 60-minute low-impact Cardio Sculpt class. It rained yesterday, and the humidity inside the building was definitely making itself known.
By the time class was over, I was sopping wet. You couldn’t necessarily tell from the pictures afterward, but trust me.
I was marinated.
Still, I was having fun.
My heart rate stayed under control, I got a solid workout, and afterward Fitbit—yes, the same Fitbit that had spent the morning telling me to slow down—had the nerve to congratulate me on how stable my heart rate was and tell me that it was a sign that my stamina had grown.
Oh. NOW we’re impressed?
A few hours earlier, I was apparently one step away from needing a fainting couch.
After Jazzercise, suddenly my stamina was remarkable.
This is why I wear the Fitbit for the receipts.
Then My Shoulder Got Finicky
Somewhere in the middle of class, my right shoulder started getting irritated. It wasn’t sharp pain. There wasn’t one specific moment when I thought, Oh, I just hurt myself. It was more like my shoulder had reached its limit and decided to file a complaint.
Shoulder: I really don’t want to do this anymore.
Me: Fair enough.
I took a break, got a drink, and did some stretching.
One of the other women in class noticed and came over to make sure I was okay, which I thought was incredibly sweet.
I was okay.
I just had a shoulder that had decided it wanted to renegotiate the terms of our agreement. And I was willing to listen.
One thing I have learned is that I don’t need to prove anything by ignoring my body when something starts complaining.
I want to keep doing Jazzercise.
I also want to keep playing pinball.
And shoulders are rather useful for both—especially when you’re trying to plunge a pinball on a machine with a particularly stubborn plunger.
So I backed off a little, stretched, and kept paying attention.
Surprise! Bonus Stretches!
Then, after the regular class was finished, Miss Robyn announced that she was going to do some extra stretching.
My finicky shoulder and I thought this was an excellent idea. So I stayed. And stretched. And stretched some more.
And apparently completely lost track of time.
My Fitbit recorded 1 hour and 31 minutes of activity.
The regular class is about an hour.
I originally thought we had stretched for maybe 15 minutes.
Then I looked at the total time.
Wait.
Did we stretch for almost 30 minutes
Apparently, time flies when you’re stretching a grumpy shoulder.
Whatever the exact amount of time was, the bonus stretching helped—a lot. My shoulder felt significantly better afterward.
So thank you, Miss Robyn, for the unexpected bonus stretching session.
No extra charge.
That’s the kind of bonus content I can get behind.
Jazzercise #17: The Receipts
By the time I was finished, Fitbit had recorded:
1 hour, 31 minutes of activity
582 estimated calories
115 bpm average heart rate
62 cardio load
92 Active Zone Minutes
4,919 steps before 11 a.m.
56% of my weekly cardio target already completed
Not bad for someone whose Fitbit had suggested a rest day.
More importantly, I had fun. I got a good workout. When my shoulder started complaining, I listened. Someone noticed and checked on me. Miss Robyn gave us some bonus stretching. The stretching helped. And apparently my stamina is improving—even according to the same electronic wrist tattletale that wanted me to sit down a few hours earlier.
Seventeen Classes In
I am now 17 Jazzercise classes into this experiment.
I still don’t know all the moves.
Sometimes my body parts file complaints.
Sometimes I end up sweating far more than I expected.
Sometimes Fitbit thinks I should be resting.
And sometimes a regular 60-minute class turns into a 91-minute adventure because Miss Robyn decides we need a little extra stretching.
But I keep showing up.
Not because an app told me to.
Not because I have to be perfect.
Not because every workout needs to break a record.
I keep showing up because I am having fun.
And today, I listened to both the data and my body. The data said I had slept less than my goal. My body said I felt fine.
My shoulder eventually said, Hey, could we adjust this a little? So I did. Then I stretched. And I left feeling better than I did when my shoulder first started complaining.
That sounds like a pretty successful workout to me.
Jazzercise #17: complete.
Next up?
A quieter Wednesday with a little laundry cross-training so I can make sure I have clean clothes for Jazzercise #18 on Thursday.
Because showing up naked would probably be frowned upon.
And Thursday should be fun.
It’s Miss Robyn’s birthday week, she’s taking song requests, and apparently she’s going to dig up “Accidentally in Love” for me.
Woo-hoo!
Seventeen down. Still moving. Still learning. Still listening to my body.
Still counts. Always.
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