If you're reading this in a public space, there's a good chance at least one person in your direct vicinity is wearing some sort of digital activity tracker around their wrist. With more than 20 million Fitbits having been sold since 2010, chances are you're wearing one yourself. Even people who clearly look as though they haven't taken part in any sort of structured exercise program since high-school gym class are keeping tabs on their daily step count. This is a good thing, of course; if strapping on an electronic tracking bracelet is what it takes to get people moving, so be it.
That being said, I do have some bad news for all you devotees of fitness wearables: They don't really work all that well. In my experience, most people wear these things as a means to manage their weight, meaning an accurate calorie count is essential to their goals.
According to a study conducted by the Stanford University School of Medicine, not one of the seven different wearable activity trackers accurately measured calories burned. The best of the lot was off by an average of 27 per cent.
The worst was off by 93 per cent! Granted, these devices all did an excellent job of tracking heart rates and they're about as accurate as a standard pedometer for tracking steps, but neither of those metrics are too difficult to measure in the first place (you can easily check your heart rate by placing two fingers on your carotid artery – located beside your windpipe – and counting the pulse beats for 10 seconds.
Multiply that number by six and you're all set; the Sportline 330 is a clip-on pedometer that has been proven to provide accurate step counts and costs less than $15). So what's the point in wearing a wearable if it doesn't even do the main thing people need them to do? Good question.
I'm not here to pick on the poor ol' Fitbit.
Even those absurdly expensive cardio machines at the gym don't do a very good job of tracking calories (FYI: elliptical trainers are the least accurate; stationary bikes are the most. There are a bunch of factors that go into measuring caloric output that most machines can't consider, including age, height and efficiency of movement. Those who move more gracefully expend less energy, which helps to explains why the awkward elliptical scores so low). My issue is with modern technology as a whole invading an arena – the gym – that thrives in its most primitive and rudimentary state. As Rocky Balboa proved when he knocked out Ivan Drago, you don't need machines and computers to transform yourself into a chiselled dynamo. A pile of heavy rocks and a pickaxe is all it takes. Steroids, too, I suppose, but I digress.In all seriousness, there's a reason why basic barbell training – squats, deadlifts, presses and rows – is a staple of every effective strength-building program. It's simple, cheap, and it works really well. It's a lot of fun, too … in a masochistic sort of way. There's something about the feel of a cold steel bar in your hands that awakens a primal response in even the most mild-mannered among us.
Case in point: I've been working with a client for the past year who is the exact opposite of a Gym Bro in every way – he's quiet, shy, intellectual and when we first met he could barely do a pushup. He's put in the hours, though, and recently we made the jump from dumbbells to barbells. Now, watching him chalk-up his hands before a set of deadlifts you'd think he's an iron-lifting lifer. And while his enthusiasm is pleasing, the real payoff for me is in his performance and his appearance. He's stronger than ever before, leaner than he was last year and not a single electronic device was used, nor a single calorie counted during this journey of ours.
These days, my own training has been stripped down to an even more basic level. Scattered throughout Southern Ontario and the Ottawa-Quebec region are a series of outdoor gyms created by Trekfit. I've spent the past month working out using nothing more than a pull-up bar and a knee-high bench, and the results thus far have been excellent. It's invigorating to be outside in the sun rather than inside a stuffy gym; and without any artificial distractions, I've developed a keener sense of what old-time lifters refer to as the "mind-muscle connection" – basically, paying attention to subtle internal cues so that my body moves the way it wants and needs. I've checked and there's no app for that. Not yet, anyway.
Now before you label me a Luddite and call for my head in the comments section, understand that my aversion to gadgets extends only to the weight room. The whispered promise of fancy fitness gear is that it will make getting in shape easier. It won't. Nothing will. In the gym, patience and hard work are all that matter, making it one of the only true meritocracies. This is the beauty of fitness – it's available to anyone at any time regardless of income, age, gender or ethnicity. All that it asks is that you put in the time.
Paul Landini is a personal trainer and health educator at the Toronto West End College Street YMCA. You can follow him on Twitter @mrpaullandini.