Abe Carter is casually talking to me about his company's plans to collect and organize my biometric data as I start running out of breath. I've only been on the treadmill next to him for a few minutes, but it's my first time being back in a gym in years, and my lungs are making that abundantly clear. If this were The Walking Dead, I'd be an easy zombie snack.
We slow things down and catch a breath before it's time to move onto the main event: seeing if the wristband and shoe sensor I'm wearing can figure out the workout I'm about to throw at it. But if I can be honest, I'm wondering the same thing about my body.
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