It was when, on a dark, freezing Tuesday evening in November, I found myself walking laps around the block a few hundred metres from my flat that I began to wonder whether something might be wrong. I was on my way home from the gym, but my Garmin watch was telling me I was still a few hundred steps short of my daily goal.
Rationally, I know that what I should have done is simply carry on my walk home. I am aware that, as an active, young person, there is no material improvement to my health to be achieved by walking, relatively slowly, for three extra minutes at the end of the day. In fact, taking into account the film of pollution permanently lingering over my congested north London high street, it is likely a net negative for my overall wellbeing. And yet, in the lashing wind and rain, I walked.
