When I had covid, I was miserable, hacking up my lungs and confined to bed for several days with horrible brain fog. I don’t remember much from that time. I do, however, remember waking up bleary-eyed and feverish to an Apple Watch notification. It said I hadn’t made much progress on my rings. I should take a brisk 27-minute walk. “You can still do it,” it said. No, I could not.
It wasn’t my fault I’d gotten sick, but my 85-day streak was broken anyway. Since then, I’ve had…
