Hate Fitness Tracking? Here’s What to Consider Instead.

From the outside looking in, my Oura ring brought me many perfect days.

As someone who comes alive at 2 am and can easily sink into an hour-long vortex of consuming YouTube shorts, I started using an Oura ring to act as a sort of pseudo-parent. It’s motivated me to stand up from my desk more often, swap my mid-day social media breaks for 20-minute meditations, and develop a more calming before-bed routine than letting one episode of Vanderpump Rules turn into three.

In theory, these are good things. They’re movement-promoting, mood-boosting habits that contribute to my overall well-being. But it was just a matter of time before my fitness tracking felt less like a helpful friend and more a moral arbiter to whom I became increasingly indebted.

If you’re anything like me, you know the perils of being a perfectionist and relying on a ring or a watch or WHATEVER for assessment. Some days, when I woke up feeling refreshed, I’d open the Oura app to see a “readiness” score that was less than ready. “Did I do something wrong, Oura gods?” I’d wonder. I’d rack my brain, recalling everything I did the day before that might’ve resulted in a score equivalent to a B- on a quiz. And sometimes, after walking for what I was certain was at least 6,000 steps, I’d open the Health app on my iPhone to see a meager 3,400 steps recorded. Cue the crushing wound of inadequacy.

The data also isn’t something that’s easy to de-personalize as I held my entire being up to its (arbitrary?) measuring stick. On days I fell short by 1,000 steps of my goal on my Oura or Health apps, I’d lift my standing desk into position and walk in place during a Zoom meeting—while impressively keeping my upper body still enough that no one noticed my secret exercise session. And when I saw my stress numbers elevating in the Oura app, I’d carve out a moment to lie down ASAP and cue up a guided meditation.

“It sounds like you added really positive activities to your routine!” you might be thinking. But you’d be mistaken! It wasn’t the activities that were problematic so much as how I was doing them. I couldn’t feel present on a walk because I was mentally calculating how far until I’d reach a certain number of steps. A couple times, mid-meditation, I even peeked at my stress levels on the Oura app—only to feel disappointed that they hadn’t decreased. I know I can’t be alone in feeling these efforts are pretty counterproductive, especially considering the goal was, well, my health.

The upsides of fitness tracking? There are, admittedly, a lot of those. We live in a self-reliant society where we’re responsible for being our own everything—nutritionist, trainer, motivator. So if a fitness tracker gives someone more motivation than frustration, that’s incredible. Also, my Oura ring has accurately predicted signs of a bad cold before I even felt it in my body. I’ll never say no to technology that reminds me to take it slow and pay attention to how I feel.

In that way, a better way of integrating fitness tracking into real life reminds me of yoga. As much as we practice shapes with our bodies and adhere to the structure of class, the true aim is feeling before form—to check in with what’s going on inside. How those feelings express themselves on the mat is less important.

Maybe that’s why fitness tracking psyched me out so much—because I let it override my gut instincts. Instead of letting it assist me, I somehow projected my own insecurities onto it and made it something I had to “get right.” Considering my tendency toward overanalyzing, I think I require gentler parenting in the form of listening to myself—and actually following through on what I need—more than the coldness of hard numbers.

If you’ve ever felt defeated by your tracker, maybe that’s what you need, too.