I swear I didn’t mean for this to happen.
All I wanted was a simple little web page — a public accountability nudge, a digital sticky note that said, “Hey Tony, did you move your body today or nah.” Something tiny. Something honest. Something that would quietly roast me if I skipped too many days.
For months I’d been posting my daily walks on Facebook — a little ritual of “proof of life” updates that kept me honest. It worked, but it was clunky. Manual. Too dependent on me remembering to actually post. I wanted something automatic, something that lived on its own, something that didn’t require me to open Facebook like it was a confessional booth.
But the universe knows me too well.
Give me a “simple” idea and I will immediately turn it into a multi‑API, OAuth‑refreshing, Google‑Apps‑Script‑powered, domain‑hopping, spreadsheet‑layered contraption involving two AI models, four sheets, and a data architecture diagram that looks like a subway map.
This is the story of Mr. T’s Fitness Tracker — the page, the pipeline, the chaos, and the weirdly personal satisfaction of shipping something that absolutely should not exist and yet very much does.
