They know you promised to exercise more. They know you failed by January 4th. And now that data lives somewhere you’ll never see.
My neighbor got a fitness tracker for Christmas. I watched him set it up through my window—not surveillance, just observation. He didn’t read the terms of service. Nobody reads the terms of service. That’s what they’re counting on. Fitness tracker surveillance begins the moment you tap “I agree,” and January is their harvest season.
I spent 22 years in IT. I know how these systems work. Or I knew, before they changed everything to cloud-based architectures I don’t fully trust. But the principle remains: if a device collects data, that data goes somewhere. And if it goes somewhere, someone is looking at it.
The New Year Data Surge
Every January, millions of Americans strap monitoring devices to their wrists and announce their intentions through biometric data. “I’m going to walk 10,000 steps.” “I’m going to improve my resting heart rate.” They think they’re improving themselves. They’re creating a profile.
My research indicates that fitness tracker surveillance peaks between January 1st and January 21st—the average lifespan of a New Year’s resolution. After that, the devices keep collecting, but the user stops caring. The algorithm notes this too. They know when you gave up. The timestamp is precise.
What They Know
Your steps. Your sleep patterns. Your heart rate when you see certain notifications. When you removed the device to shower (or didn’t). Where you walked. How fast. Whether you hesitated at the refrigerator at 11 PM.
I brought this up at my wife Carol’s family gathering. Her nephew, who works “in tech,” said I was “overcomplicating it.” He said the data is “anonymized.” I asked him to define anonymization in a world of cross-referenced databases. He went to get more eggnog and didn’t come back to the conversation.
My Recommendation
I don’t wear a fitness tracker. I count my steps manually using a pedometer I bought in 2003—analog, no wireless capability, completely air-gapped from the internet. It’s less accurate, but accuracy isn’t the point. Privacy is the point.
When I want to know my heart rate, I check my pulse for fifteen seconds and multiply by four. Doctors did this for centuries. It worked fine. Now we need a device that uploads to Virginia? I don’t think so.
My neighbor’s fitness tracker has been glowing on his nightstand for five days now. He’s already stopped wearing it. But the account is still active. The data is still flowing. And somewhere, a server farm knows more about his January than he does.
I’ve documented the glow patterns. Three short, one long. Might mean something. Probably doesn’t. But I’m watching. Someone has to.
About the Author
