So, mid-day last Thursday I noticed my heart-rate monitor (HRM) was on the blink. It was working, but not really consistently; I still managed to log calories expended, and keep track of my intensity level, but I was completely unnerved by the inconvenience of constantly having to stop, readjust the chest strap, and make sure it was still ticking away as ncessary.
The following day it fared no better as an off-reading on Thursday turned into an altogether dead watch on Friday. I was all of 50 minutes in before I realized my battery was dead and was now kicking myself for not having ordered a new battery weeks ago when the subtle signs of watch wear first began.
Needless to say, I wasn’t a happy camper—especially since the only way I would be able to replace said battery was via online order—and my Friday was absolutely shot because the anal-retentive woman in me isn’t happy unless she can log every calorie, and every minute, of every workout. It was like an unfinished thought, or when people just set the toilet paper on top of the empty roll as opposed to changing the damn thing!
Livid was the only way to describe me at that moment—standing there, dripping with sweat, looking at a watch with a blank ass screen—and I kid you not I stopped my workout right then and there. I was so pissed, I didn’t want to go any further. What was the use?!
Now, to some of you this scenario probably sounds asinine. After all, there are tons of people who don’t use heart-rate monitors when they work out and they are perfectly fine with the not knowing of all the details; I used to be one of those people many damn moons ago. However, for me, my training sessions now take on two lives: before and after I bought my Polar. And honey, let me tell you, the life after my Polar has been the best! I adore it like nothing else because it keeps me honest and focused.
It is by far one of the most important fitness devices I have ever purchased—hands down.
That said, it was a bit childish of me to stop my routine just because my watch broke and I realized the idiocy of it all about 11:30 that night—after I was calm, a bit inebriated, and watching old episodes of “Sons of Anarchy” (trying to get familiar with Charlie Hunnam’s work prior to 50 Shades release)—at which point I could have smacked myself for being so flappable.
Listen, if there’s one thing you have to be on the road to fitness it’s flexible. Whether your issue is a broken HRM or a bad choice at dinner, you have to be able to pick yourself up, dust yourself off, and move forward. Sometimes, shit happens. How well you handle said shit will determine your success and strength as you move forward.
Never forget that, in the end, it’s about you making a decision to commit to living a healthy lifestyle. Everything else is just details.