For three years, Ashwinn Krishnaswamy had a rigid schedule. He logged his morning wake time, exercise, and how many alcoholic and caffeinated beverages he had each day.<\/p>\n
Tracking these metrics initially helped Krishnaswamy, a 34-year-old content creator, develop better habits. But eventually, he noticed himself getting too obsessed with the numbers \u2014 skipping hangouts with friends to keep an early bedtime streak, for example.<\/p>\n
Krishnaswamy realized, he said in an interview, \u201cI\u2019m kind of just optimizing stuff for optimization\u2019s sake.\u201d He started to wonder what it was all for.<\/p>\n
\u201cWe need a 90 sleep score, 10,000 steps a day, a bed cooled to 68 degrees, six miles on Strava, all for us to be better at \u2026 sending emails, or talking on a podcast?\u201d he said in a TikTok<\/a> video, which has been viewed over 1.8 million times. Optimization culture, he said, \u201chas gone too far and is spiritually killing us.\u201d<\/p>\n There are now more ways<\/a> to monitor your health than ever, with wearable trackers including smart watches, rings and even clothing. While some people have committed to biohacking<\/a> and hyper-optimization, others, like Krishnaswamy, are saying: enough. The debate gained momentum when a clip surfaced of Steven Bartlett, host of the \u201cDiary of a C.E.O.\u201d podcast, saying that a couple of glasses of wine ruined days of his life<\/a>. He cited the domino effect of worse sleep, eating habits and exercise, which he measured on his Whoop device.<\/p>\n If there is indeed a war on pleasure, the reformed optimizers are laying down the arms taken up by their sober<\/a>, health-and-image obsessed<\/a> former selves, and picking up an extra glass of wine and a Pilates class cancellation fee instead.<\/p>\n Neil Fullarton, an educator in Austin, Texas, got a Fitbit in 2015 to improve habits. \u201cBut it kind of snowballed,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n Like Krishnaswamy, he checked his sleep quality obsessively, recorded his food, drink and sun exposure, and closely tracked his heart rate and oxygen levels at the gym. He had an Apple Watch and a Whoop device, which he wore simultaneously, and a Fitbit for workouts. <\/p>\n Then, one day last year, he was about to meditate (something he tracked), when it dawned on him: All of this tracking was making him more stressed. \u201cI was like, \u2018Oh, this is sort of like the opposite point of meditation,\u2019\u201d he said.<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m sure there are lots of people who are measuring these things and using them to improve their quality of life,\u201d Fullarton said, \u201cbut I wasn\u2019t doing anything with all this information.\u201d<\/p>\n Habit tracking does have its benefits. Research has found<\/a> that those who track their behavior are more likely to reach their goals, and that streaks provide mini dopamine hits that help make the habit worth pursuing.<\/p>\n For some, optimization can tip over into something unhealthy. Edie Horstman, a 36-year-old nutrition consultant and health coach who lives in Denver, started tracking steps and protein intake when she was diagnosed with polyendocrine metabolic ovarian syndrome, formerly called P.C.O.S. She used a Fitbit to count her steps, knowing that walking could help her maintain a healthy blood-sugar level.<\/p>\n \u201cMy personality is: I go all in. I don\u2019t just kind of like dip my toes in the water,\u201d Horstman said. \u201cSo I\u2019d be like, \u2018Oh, I got 6,000 steps today. I wonder if I can get to 6,500 tomorrow.\u2019 And eventually that number just kept climbing and climbing.\u201d She eventually paced around her apartment to hit 10,000 a day.<\/p>\n \u201cI became completely addicted,\u201d she added. \u201cI was basically checking my step count before I was truly checking in with myself, and in my opinion, that\u2019s not wellness. It\u2019s anxiety with a fitness label.\u201d<\/p>\n The gamification of health metrics is more complicated for those experiencing anxiety or related disorders \u2014 which the C.D.C. said in 2024 was about one in five people<\/a>. Adam C. Frank, a professor of clinical psychiatry at the University of Southern California, has studied how wearable devices affect those with obsessive-compulsive disorder. For people with O.C.D., it \u201ccan kind of trigger obsessions, and then compulsions,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n There is also a part of the general population for whom fitness tracking at first \u201cfeels helpful, it feels informative,\u201d he said, \u201cand then it becomes like an end in itself, instead of supporting better physical or mental health.\u201d<\/p>\n Horstman eventually put her device away in a drawer at her husband\u2019s suggestion. \u201cAll of a sudden I was able to actually tap into my own body\u2019s feedback, in terms of my energy and my mood.\u201d<\/p>\n Since ditching their wearables, Fullarton, Horstman and Krishnaswamy say they\u2019ve all managed to maintain healthy habits around exercise, sleep and eating. <\/p>\n \u201cI feel like my mental health has improved because I\u2019m no longer sort of obsessing over all this data,\u201d Fullarton said.<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m not anti-tracker,\u201d he added. \u201cBut I am anti-tracker for me.\u201d<\/p>\n