My health app cheated on me, so I dumped it

2 hours ago 2

Opinion

January 16, 2026 — 3.30pm

I became addicted. Hopelessly addicted. The more I succeeded, the more I wanted. The streak went 100 days, then 200.

Neil Breen with his dog, Katy. “While I already did a lot of walking, I had never before counted steps.”

Then it was a year, a year and a half … two years. I was heading full-steam towards a three-year streak of 10,000-step days when a routine surgery did me in. As much as I tried, I failed to walk 10,000 steps. Not just one day but four days in a row.

After 931 days the streak was gone. To be honest, I wasn’t unhappy about it, as it had become an obsession: one I knew I had to break. But my health app – Pacer – refused to give up. As part of the streak set-up you’re allowed a “rest day” every week, which was pretty generous, I thought. I used that a few times but very seldom.

Two days’ rest in a week and the streak would be over. That kept me on track many times. But post-surgery and after the second rest day, suddenly Pacer allowed me to activate a “bonus” I had earned to keep the streak alive.

A “bonus”? This is new. I thought, like many addicts, “OK, the use of one bonus won’t hurt”.

Then, after the third day, another bonus, which this time I didn’t activate. After the fourth day I got the offer of yet another bonus and all sorts of messages encouraging me to keep going, that I’d earned it, activate my bonus streak days and don’t let myself down.

I hadn’t let myself down. I had surgery and my streak was done. My philosophy was that there was no point in striving for a streak if all the app does is bail me out every time I fail to keep the streak going. Because then it is not a streak at all. It’s some sort of mythical streak with qualifications and asterisks all over it.

People who used fitness apps during lockdowns were more likely to exercise.

The point of downloading a health app is for it to be an aid that kept you accountable to your fitness goals. As I approached my mid-50s, ever so slowly the weight gain began. We also had a dog who loved plenty of exercise. While I already did a lot of walking I had never before counted steps. All of a sudden, I found the app and started counting. I’ll walk the dog, I’ll lose weight, I’ll chase steps … I was all in.

My addiction meant I was also not satisfied with 10,000 a day; I wanted more. In fact, for the past year I averaged more than 15,000 steps.

The problem was, I still had weight creep despite a good diet and disciplined eating. OK, maybe those reds at night weren’t helping but you have to live a bit in this life. If I couldn’t do 15,000 steps a day and enjoy a red then we may as well end it all now. I knew, though, that more trips to the gym needed to be added to my exercise regime.

But I was paranoid about losing out on steps when I did weights or gym classes. So I had to have my phone in my pocket at the gym. In between reps I’d jump on the walker. The phone also had to be on me when I went to the men’s room at work. And when I went to the kitchen at home. If I walked out to turn on the barbecue. The bloody phone, the host of the bloody Pacer app, had to be on me the whole bloody time. It became ridiculous.

Then, after all this undying loyalty, the app turned out to be a cheater, which kept giving me bonuses so I could lie to myself about my streak. A streak that ended but didn’t end, apparently.

I realised Pacer wasn’t in it to encourage me to get fit. It was in it for itself, to keep me as a user and a customer. Not only that, in recent months it started trying to pair me up with fellow walkers who were on streaks. Every day it tried to make me befriend some walker known as SB88K with a pixelated face. After deleting the app I reignited it for this piece. Suddenly I was being paired with Belen after three days. I don’t want to be friends on an app with SB88K or Belen. No offence.

I got my wife on to the app and it kept trying to pair her up with Dean, who was on a four-day streak. Like, what sort of loser is he anyway with a measly four days! Jokes aside, what is this? Walkers’ Tinder or something? We don’t want any walking friends. Bugger off. Leave us alone to chase steps in peace.

There was only one way to deal with it. App deleted. Streak over. Obsession dismissed. I ripped off the Band-Aid. It feels good. But I would love to know how many steps I did today.

Neil Breen is the Herald’s sports editor.

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