The walking anxiety epidemic
How digital wellness transformed walking from intuitive pleasure into corporate surveillance disguised as health optimisation
On a spring morning in 1964, as Tokyo prepared to host the Olympics, clockmaker Juri Kato faced an unusual commission from Dr Iwao Ohya, who ran one of the city's largest clinics. Japan's post-war prosperity had created an unexpected problem: increasingly sedentary lifestyles were threatening public health. Ohya's solution was elegantly simple—everyone should walk 10,000 steps daily. Kato's task was to create a device that could count them.
After two years of tinkering, Kato produced the "manpo-kei"—literally, the 10,000-step meter. The choice of 10,000 wasn't scientific; the Japanese character resembles a person walking, making it perfect for marketing. That aesthetic decision, prioritising commercial appeal over medical evidence, would eventually generate hundreds of billions in global revenue whilst fundamentally transforming how humans relate to walking.
Today, researchers are breathlessly announcing that 7,000 steps—not 10,000—represents the optimal daily target for health benefits. The latest study, published in The Lancet Public Health and analysing data from over 160,000 adults, claims this "more realistic" target can reduce mortality risk by 47%, cardiovascular disease by 25%, and dementia by 38%. Media coverage celebrates finally having "evidence-based" step targets.
Yet this triumph exposes a more troubling reality: we've become so addicted to quantifying natural movement that we've mistaken correlation for causation, convenience for science, surveillance for health.
The clockmaker's legacy
Dr Melody Ding, the lead researcher behind the 7,000-step study, admits the 10,000-step target was "taken out of context" from its commercial origins. Yet rather than questioning why we need daily numerical targets at all, researchers have simply recalibrated the numbers.
The fundamental flaw isn't which figure we choose—it's assuming complex human health can be reduced to movement tallies. The World Health Organisation deliberately avoids step-based recommendations, focusing instead on time-based guidelines: 150 minutes of moderate-intensity exercise weekly. This recognises that benefits depend on intensity, duration, and type of movement—not raw step counts. A 30-minute strength session provides superior health outcomes to an hour of gentle strolling, yet registers fewer steps.
More disturbing is the psychological toll. Clinical studies document how step counting triggers obsessive-compulsive behaviours, with individuals developing "arithmomania"—compulsive counting disorders where numerical targets become psychologically mandatory. Dr April Kilduff, who treats OCD and anxiety disorders, observes: "You feel anxious while counting, but you also feel anxious if you don't count." The technology transforms walking—humanity's most basic physical activity—into a source of performance anxiety.
When numbers replace wisdom
The fitness tracker industry, valued at £46 billion globally and projected to reach £227 billion by 2032, has discovered the perfect business model: devices requiring daily engagement to justify premium pricing. Companies don't profit from health outcomes—they profit from addiction-like dependence where users compulsively check statistics.
The shift from 10,000 to 7,000 steps serves commercial interests perfectly. Lowering targets increases user "success rates," maintaining engagement whilst creating fresh marketing opportunities about "achievable" goals. Meanwhile, genuine health benefits resist such convenient quantification.
Jon Stride, a 64-year-old from Dorset who walks 16,000 steps daily after his heart attack, grasps what researchers miss: "It's about getting out and about, and the benefits for our mental wellbeing that are tangible but not as easy to quantify." His insight exposes the fundamental limitation—the most important aspects of physical activity resist measurement.
Employers and insurers are exploiting this quantification obsession for comprehensive surveillance. UnitedHealth Group accesses real-time employee movement data through workplace wellness programmes, with managers receiving updates on staff activity levels. What begins as voluntary step tracking evolves into monitoring sleep patterns, heart rate variability, and location data. Enthusiasm for step targets masks the transformation of bodily autonomy into corporate data extraction.
Digital wellness, real surveillance
Step counting exemplifies a broader digital wellness pattern: technologies designed to inform behaviour increasingly control it. Sleep tracking apps cause "orthosomnia"—anxiety about metrics that disrupts actual rest. Heart rate monitors create hypochondriacal fixations. Calorie counting drives disordered eating. Each promises liberation through measurement whilst delivering performance anxiety.
The Washington Post's investigation into workplace fitness tracking revealed "constant health surveillance," with managers receiving real-time employee movement updates. The boundary between wellness and workplace control dissolves entirely. Dr Susan Albers-Bowling, who treats OCD, distinguishes healthy self-monitoring from compulsive behaviour: "People with OCD want to stop but simply can't. It feels out of their control." Step counting creates precisely these conditions.
Traditional exercise science emphasises that sustainable health behaviours require internal motivation and individual adaptation. Yet step counting promotes one-size-fits-all approaches that medical professionals know produce inferior outcomes. A 70-year-old with arthritis, a 25-year-old marathon runner, and a 45-year-old office worker have completely different optimal activity patterns that resist universal numerical targets.
Breaking free from the counter
The 7,000-step celebration reveals our profound discomfort with uncertainty. Rather than questioning why we need daily numerical targets, researchers have simply refined the measurement. This false precision encourages people to ignore personalised medical advice in favour of generic commercial recommendations.
The pattern repeats throughout wellness culture: food pyramids, daily calorie targets, BMI classifications—each generation of metrics gets debunked as more sophisticated research emerges. Yet faith in the next quantified solution remains unshakeable.
Consider the alternative. Traditional cultures maintained excellent health through integrated movement: walking for transportation, working with hands, dancing for celebration, playing for joy. None required daily targets to motivate natural physical expression. Modern exercise science supports this intuitive approach—the most effective interventions focus on sustainable habits and personally meaningful activities rather than external measurement.
The tragic irony is that step counting may undermine the health outcomes it claims to promote. By transforming walking into performance measurement rather than internal satisfaction, it potentially destroys the intrinsic motivation that sustains lifelong activity. The most dangerous legacy of Kato's 1965 marketing innovation may be teaching us to mistrust our bodies in favour of digital surveillance.
Sixty years after a Japanese clockmaker chose a number because it resembled a walking figure, we're still searching for the perfect daily target. Perhaps the real discovery isn't that 7,000 steps beats 10,000—it's recognising that the most profound health benefits resist quantification entirely. The great step backwards isn't about which number we count. It's about choosing to count at all.