“Know ye not that ye are the temple of God…?” —1 Corinthians 3:16 KJV
If it is true that our bodies are temples, I must admit that I have been treating mine more like an amusement park for far too long. Last August I got a good scare when I received the results of my yearly physical exam and I decided to step up and be accountable for my health.
My physician and I discussed what needed to be done and came up with a plan on how to accomplish my goal. It has been a premeditated act, but I am reaping great benefits in the guise of a 52 pound weight loss to date.
Just as a person might use their body as a canvas for Tattoo artistry, I have been working on my own physique. Circuit training, aerobic exercise and, recently, yoga have been the means by which I am toning this form of media that I call a body.
As denizens of the 21st Century we have a multitude of ways and means to attain our dreams. I have been using an app on my phone, Lose It!, to keep me informed about the food that I am eating. I can stay within the prescribed guidelines that my Nutritionist has given me and I can honestly say that I have a new outlook on food and also results that encourage me to keep on doing what works and not “check the box” and return to my old ways.
I have also made use of an electronic tracker, a FitBit One, that syncs with the phone app and gives me credit for time served exercising in the form of extra calories to replace some of the ones that I burn up during the day. Life, these days, is a game of give-and-take—a mathematical wonderland of cause-and-effect; choices pondered, decisions made, and results meted out once a week when I weigh myself.
Recently I lost my FitBit tracker. At night I put it in an elastic holder that has a velcro closure and it was not on my wrist when we were going to bed. I use it to track my sleep and, although I can manually enter the info into the FitBit app, I was annoyed that it was missing.
I am not one who misplaces things and when it happens, I get annoyed. I quickly checked my shirt sleeve, pants, chair, anywhere the velcro could be stuck to something, and I found nothing. We went to bed after deciding to look for it in the morning.
The next day I was up first and quietly looked around the house for the device to no avail. I went downstairs to check around the area where we were sorting through files in banker’s boxes the previous afternoon.
I looked in the boxes we worked on—nothing; the table below the shelves of boxes—nothing; the floor under the table under the shelves with the boxes—nothing; everything between the door to the room and the floor below the table, under the shelves that supported the boxes containing the files where I think that I can last remember having the device in the wrist strap…you can see where this is going.
The temperature was in the low 40s and I was not dressed for it, so I returned upstairs for a cup of coffee and time to warm up and think. If only there was an app to find the tracker, something like Apple’s “Find My iPhone” app. Well, it turns out that there is such an app—it cost 5 bucks. I downloaded it and went In Search Of something worth $85.
Using the signal-strength readout on the iPhone app I wandered through the house holding the phone at arm’s length and pivoting from side-to-side and raising my arms up-and-down. The signal was constant throughout the house and especially strong when I crouched down and held the phone over the floor in the vicinity of the boxes downstairs.
Ahah! It had to be downstairs, but first a change of clothes—a thicker shirt and pants to replace my thin bedclothes—and more coffee. I could already taste the victory in the hot cup of Joe as I put on my new wardrobe.
As soon as I got downstairs, the signal strength plummeted. I moved the phone around the boxes, across the table top and the floor, but did not find a thing. After 5 minutes or so I paced around the downstairs room, thinking, and got a signal from the rear of the house, in the direction of our bedroom. It was not possible, I had not been back there with the FitBit the day before.
The signal got a little bit stronger when I held the phone up to my face. Was the tracker upstairs? No, it had to be downstairs. More than likely the Find My FitBit app was no good. You can’t trust anyone, or anything, anymore.
My wife, The Lioness (TL), was up when I returned upstairs. I filled her in on what was happening and she graciously entered the search. Two heads, especially hers, instead of one would turn the tide and locate the lost item.
20 minutes later we were both cold, frustrated and determined to solve the Case of the Missing FitBit. We went back upstairs and this time TL took over the signal meter. She rapidly narrowed it down to our bedroom. She was so helpful, and so misguided, I thought to myself.
I joined her in the bedroom and we checked the bed, stripped the bed, looked under the bed, around the bed—but there was nothing. The signal was strongest when I raised my phone above shoulder-high. What the…?
The Lioness said, “Did you check the shirt you had on yesterday?” The long-sleeved shirt was hanging on a hook next to me.
Of course I checked my shirt, it is the first thing that I checked. There is nothing in the sleeve. Don’t you think I looked there?
“Yes, dear,” I said (survival in these situations is all about enunciation, trust me). “I will check it again, though.” I ran my hands up the right-hand sleeve and, for emphasis, up to the shoulder where I heard a crackle and felt a lump. What the…?
I reached through the collar and removed the elastic velcro holder with the FitBit tracker inside and I laughed. What I thought was a tag in the new shirt yesterday, was the missing item.
It turns out that the Find It app works fine in spite of my interpretation. The signal was strongest in the bedroom (where I changed my clothes) and stronger still above shoulder-high (level with the hook the shirt was on).
The Lioness and I have had more than a few chuckles about this incident in the intervening days. I suspect that she has had more laughs than me and I am fine with that. It keeps me grounded; I am human, just like everyone else and I need to make fewer judgement calls before thoroughly investigating the facts.
Such is my life in the Wireless Wonderland. How are you faring?