The watch absolutely loves my respectable bike ride to the party, but that’s not what we’re there for! We’re there to see how far and fast I go on the dance floor, how strong and sturdy and low I get among strangers. I also wear a bright-red tiny yoga shirt, to remind me that I can be all things at all times. So the next Friday, on her instruction, I retrieve my trusty Apple Watch and strap it up on my way to my first public party outing in three lifetimes. “That night I went out by myself last week, I got in 12,000 steps! I woke up starving.” This friend, a former spin instructor, is also famous for a magnificent knees-on-the-ground floor-worship “moment” at parties and I’d love nothing more than to see how the fitness tracker accounts for this type of muscular dance-floor prowess. “Oh, you move so much,” my friend tells me when I asked, two weeks ago, if partying can possibly be considered exercise.
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