As I’ve written before, one of the major wins of this ordeal has been getting tossed off the hamster wheel; the complete, abject removal of my normal striving and fitness goal-setting that I was used to before.

This has felt uniquely relieving and stressful all at once.

For one, I’m extremely grateful to not be hyper-focused on step-counts, fitness minutes and calories, for basically the first time in about ten years. On the other hand, there was a point to all that. Exercise is key to health and longevity- probably more important than anything else. And wanting to be healthier, stronger and fitter has been given me purpose for nearly 15 years.

And I like it. I like feeling fit(ter) and strong(ish). Sports and exercise have been paramount to my mental health as an outlet, as a coping mechanism, as a distraction, and when life feels insurmountable.

But this injury put a sudden stop to almost all of it. I’m still routinely lifting weights for my upper body, but none of that other stuff – certainly nothing resembling cardio activity.

I’m starting to wonder what I’ll go back to. I’m starting to question my passion for cycling, for instance. I mean it’s a lot of work: the equipment, the clothing, the time, the effort – and I don’t have anyone to do it with most of the time. What would it mean to move on from that sport?

I’ll still be active. I enjoy walking to and from my office every day (5 km), and strength training is here to stay, too, I think – the benefits are plenty and the time commitment is minimal. But I need intense cardio somehow. I love rowing but outdoors is out of the question given our crazy lives (and rowing in the winter just sucks). Rowing erg machines are fun but the novelty wears off fast – not unlike cycling indoors on a stationary trainer. So who knows.

Probably the main lesson so far, and behavioural change I think I’ll implement, is walking away from tracking my fitness so closely. Having avoided my Apple Watch almost completely for the past two months (getting pinged to up my activity is extraordinarily tone-deaf), I’ve felt a similar sense of relief as when I deleted my Facebook and Twitter accounts many years ago. Like I’ve recovered a huge chunk of time and mental energy. Like I’m suddenly liberated from a technological addiction. I feel free and easy.

Regardless of what activities I get back into, or how seriously I take them, I think the Apple Watch may no longer hold value in my life.“Closing my rings” doesn’t need to occupy my psychic space or dictate my behaviours. If I walk 5 km to work, I am well-acquainted with the value of that effort. If I lift at lunchtime (or don’t), the value or deficit will be expressed in my musculature. And if I hop on my bike with any regularity in the future, I will have my lungs and legs to guide me; not to mention an on-board computer that will give me more than enough data on how it’s going.

A quick side-note that the timing of this paradigm shift could not be more appropriate. Smart watches have become all the rage at my 11-year-old son’s school and although we pushed back valiantly, the peer pressure overwhelmed him (and us). So I’ve lent him mine for the last three weeks, as an experiment. Will the novelty wear off? Will it stay critical (or even cool)? And although every app is locked or deleted, seeing him critique his step-count each day has given me serious pause on the utility and nefariousness of these devices. I can’t criticize him for being so taken by it – that was me two months ago. But it’s poignant.

This has added fuel to my fire, and I am increasingly keen to get back into the analogue world as far as watches are concerned – for my own benefit and to set a better example for my kids. Never fear… I still have a phone in my pocket for all the tech I’ve been trained to feel I can’t live without.