For most people who use the FitBit, there really ought to be a separate LipBit, wrapped around your face, that tracks how much you talk about how many steps you have done or intend to do. Every FitBit should also come with a third device, that straps around your friends' faces and records how many times they robotically reply, "good for you." Let's call this device the Pretend-to-Give-a-Shit-Bit.
Or, we could avoid this proliferation of bodily bean-counting accoutrements and pointless one-stepsmanship, and you could exercise regularly, eat healthily and sleep well. And then you could wait for the rest of us to say your skin looks good, ask whether you've lost weight and remark that you seem so happy these days. And then, if it turns out we are too involved in our own self-improvement efforts to notice—it won't bother you, because you will be so happy by then, that you won't need constant approval and pats on the back!
Look, I understand. I run. And when I'm training for a race, everyone knows it. Make it a Miller Lite because I'm in training! I ran 25 miles this week! My feet are sore! Running is a lot of work, and I want credit for it. Finding time for it is also a preoccupation, and so if you want to know what's on my mind—well, that's part of what's on my mind.
But I try to restrain myself, because though I may think I'm lengthening my life and improving my mental outlook with all this working out, everyone else's life is as short as it ever was, and it's quite possible my mindless fitness blather is distracting them from more important concerns and more substantive thoughts.
What I'm saying is that I don't need a FitBit to be a FitNitwit like you. My fitness is important to me, just as yours is important to you. But just as we don't bore our friends with hourly tallies of our checking accounts, our rates of crapping, napping or ass-slapping, we should keep our fitness details, stoically, to ourselves.
To ourselves, and for ourselves. Because as healthy as regular exercise is, that really is what it's all about: our selves.