Does the walk count if you don't count your steps?

Last month, we spent time talking about data. About information overload. About cognitive load. About how more information doesn't always help us make better decisions.

There’s one particular type of data collection device that I really can’t stand: Wearables. Fitness trackers. Sleep trackers. Heart rate trackers. Step counters. As a doctor, people bring me a LOT of “health” data from their devices.

Let me be clear: I don't think these devices are bad or good. And for sure they can be incredibly useful.

When you're trying to solve a particular problem, tracking can provide valuable information, like a person with diabetes tracking their blood sugar. But I've become increasingly interested in what happens when the tracking becomes the point.

Have you ever asked yourself: Does the walk count if you don't count your steps?

Imagine you leave your phone at your desk. You go for a walk during lunch. You notice the flowers blooming. You have a great conversation with a friend. You feel more energized when you return.

But your watch wasn't on. Your steps weren't recorded. Immediate, crushing disappointment! Did the walk even count?

Of course it did. Yet many of us have trained ourselves to feel otherwise.

When we focus too much on what can be measured, we risk ignoring what cannot.

A wearable can count your steps. It can't measure the joy of chasing a butterfly with a child. It can't report the peace you felt sitting outside for ten minutes. It can't calculate the health value of noticing a rainbow in a neighbor's sprinkler.

And those things matter. Resilience isn't built only through measurable progress. It's built through lived experience.

One of the dangers of tracking everything is that we begin to believe that if it isn't counted, it doesn't count. But healthy behaviors are still good for you. Even when nobody records it. Even when no app rewards it. Even when no dashboard reports it.

What is something valuable in your life right now that can't be measured?

All my best,

Dr. G