Steven Bartlett, Diary of a CEO, and the Couple of Glasses of Wine That Ruined Three Days of His Life

A debate between high performance, perfectionism, and the idea that life is meant to be lived.

This conversation highlights one of my biggest issues with modern fitness tracking technology: the constant monitoring of your life.

Should life really be lived this way? One misstep, one indulgence, one less-than-perfect decision, and suddenly you have ruined everything because your sleep, recovery, performance, productivity, and progress are all supposedly ruined. It sounds exhausting.

Steven Bartlett is sponsored by fitness tracking companies and wearable technology brands, so it makes sense that he would regularly refer back to the data these products provide. His story naturally serves as a plug for the technology. That said, it also sounds exactly like something he genuinely believes.

At his age, with what he has achieved, and with the way he presents himself to the world, the pursuit of optimisation fits perfectly with his personal brand.

Personally, I often joke that I drink a lot less because while I used to be able to drink for three days straight in my twenties and feel completely fine the next day, now if I drink for one evening, it takes me three days to recover. I can feel it.

I feel the difference in my energy, my focus, and my recovery. Technology isn’t required to tell me something my own body is already communicating. So I definitely relate to what he is saying.

That said, I still wouldn’t skip the gym.

Going to the gym is something that remains within my control. Whether I’m hungover, tired, recovering, or feeling less than ideal, the decision to train is still my decision. I don’t need technology to make that choice for me.

At the same time, I still allow myself a drink every now and then if I want one. I don’t look back at that choice and blame it for every problem that follows.

There are really two ways to look at this.

The first is that if you want maximum performance, maximum productivity, or maximum results, then your entire life must revolve around that goal. Every decision should support the desired outcome. The more sacrifices you make and the more variables you control, the greater your chances of achieving the result you want.

There is certainly merit to that approach.

The second perspective is that this level of tracking can become incredibly robotic and mechanical.

There is no room for spontaneity. No room for moderation. No room for making a different choice every once in a while. Every action is measured, analysed, and scored. Any dip in performance can be traced back to the exact moment you did the “wrong” thing according to your tracking device.

At that point, are you living your life, or are you managing a spreadsheet?

Life becomes a constant optimisation exercise where enjoyment risks becoming secondary to performance metrics.

And isn’t life supposed to be lived while we’re pursuing our goals?

Perhaps the real question is whether we can choose to do one “wrong” thing without being disheartened or without  considering it destroying everything, or even use tracking technology to improve our decision-making while still allowing ourselves to enjoy some of life’s imperfections.

In Bartlett’s example, he attributes three days of setbacks to a couple of glasses of wine. The data may support the correlation, but does that create an unhealthy mindset or dependence on the technology itself? Does everything really have to be perfect? Should someone never be able to enjoy a glass of wine without regreeting it for the rest of their days?

What I’m not buying, however, is the idea that a couple of glasses of wine were the reason he missed the gym for two days.

Could they have affected his sleep? Absolutely.

Could they have made him feel more sluggish and less motivated? Of course.

But choosing not to go to the gym for three days is still a separate decision from choosing to have a couple of glasses of wine.

The workout may not have been his best. His performance may have been lower. But he could still have gone and done something.

In that sense, the technology risks becoming an excuse or a hindrance and source of misery rather than a tool. It creates a narrative where the data explains the outcome, even when the outcome was perhaps ultimately driven by a separate choice.

Perhaps the best approach is somewhere in the middle.

Use the technology. Learn from the data. Allow it to help you achieve the things you want to achieve.

But don’t let it become the be-all and end-all of your existence.

Choose your battles. Choose your sacrifices. Leave yourself some room to manoeuvre.

Most importantly, try to enjoy the journey as much as the result.