The tyranny of counting steps
I didn’t walk 40,000 miles to find myself — I did it to earn pixelated confetti
I can pinpoint the exact moment I hit rock bottom: pacing 3,000 steps around my one-bedroom flat while suffering from Covid, just to earn digital confetti. It was autumn 2022, and I had finally succumbed to the virus. As it happens, I was one of the lucky ones. My symptoms were mild and my recovery swift. Instead, my problem was that — as the two red lines appeared on the lateral flow test — I had completed only 7,000 steps that day.
Unable (or perhaps just unwilling, I do not recall the rules at the time, Your Honour) to go outside, I had no choice but to undertake a circumnavigation of my 650-square-foot1 flat. Well, when I say a circumnavigation, I mean 27. After hitting my 10k, and watching the steps app on my phone perform the traditional celebratory explosion of confetti, I collapsed on the sofa. Record extended for one more day.
I am not proud of this2. But I console myself with the knowledge that, if I were not dependent on pixelated confetti for my kicks, I would only be doing opioids or, even worse, something like parkour. How much healthier to fall under the intoxicating grip of metrics?
I wish I could tell you that I walk to discover myself, or to sink into nature. Instead, I walk because that is what I am compelled to do. And gamification was my gateway drug. Consider this typical internal monologue: just another 1,300 steps today and I can break the (definitely important and deeply meaningful) 760,000 steps barrier for the month.
It is like when BBC Test Match Special statistician Andy Zaltzman interrupts the main commentators and breathlessly announces that England have just secured the highest sixth wicket partnership, against West Indies, at Edgbaston. Where were you when, etc?
Since the start of 2015, I have walked a little over 60,000km or 38,000 miles3. For reference, that is one and a half times the circumference of the Earth or around 15% of the distance from our planet to the Moon. This is not a humblebrag, by the way. This is a bald-faced gloat.
Walking is where I get my ideas, although today’s is about walking, so perhaps evidence that it is not always terribly successful. Walking is when I consume books, discover new neighbourhoods or hidden parts of my own. There are short walks to the corner shop, radial walks to where you started, long walks along The Thames or in the country4.
I appreciate my immense fortune. To have my health, the time, and to have stumbled upon a form of exercise where the chances of falling over or be nutmegged by boys named Brady or Kyle are slim (though, speaking from experience, not zero). Walking serves as a reminder that proximity and distance still matter5. Walking is also free6. And, in a world where progress feels amorphous and never complete, 10,000 steps represents a win, or at least a hard-earned away point.
It helps if the sun is shining, and that there is an ice cream, or a glass of wine, or a roast chicken waiting for you at the end. Sunsets are not mandatory, but strongly encouraged.
It had a small garden, but I ruled out using it, on the basis that it was raining
Alright, I am a little proud of this
If you don’t like the cut of my jib, I wouldn’t recommend inspecting the sole of my feet
Brighton to Eastbourne via the Seven Sisters cliffs will send you to heaven and hell
Trade theorists know this well
Though I fear my Compeed blister plaster budget wouldn’t emerge from the upcoming Spending Review unscathed
I dance in the bedroom when I have steps to finish!! Quicker and more fun. Each to their own!!
I have often found myself at night on, say, 9,345 steps, walking around my flat to get to 10,000 before midnight. My fitbit can give me that kind of self-inflicted pressure, but without it I would all-too-easily give up on exercise. My targets are irrational, but motivating and good for me. Over a year I try to average a minimum of 9,000 steps a day which, at my age, I am quite proud of!