Wearables and Readiness Metrics vs. Reality
- John Winston
- 2 hours ago
- 5 min read
There are mornings when the numbers look perfect. HRV is up, resting heart rate is low, sleep and stages are beautifully split, yet our body feels flat, heavy, or oddly resistant to effort. Other days then flip the experience entirely, where our wearable flags poor readiness, recovery scores dip, sleep is abysmal, yet we feel light, responsive, and recharged.
This mismatch isn’t a failure of technology or self-awareness. It’s a feature of how biological systems communicate. Readiness is not a single signal like we’re sometimes led to believe; it’s an emergent state. When internal systems are out of sync, data and lived experience don’t always speak the same language.

What are wearables usually measuring?
Much of the stats we see from watches, rings, and other smart health devices capture pieces of physiology, not the whole organism. Most readiness metrics are built from autonomic markers, including heart rate variability, resting heart rate, sleep duration, sleep staging, and sometimes respiration or skin temperature. These signals are valuable because they reflect how the nervous system has been regulating load over time. They are sensitive to training stress, illness, sleep disruption, and cumulative fatigue.
With that said, sensitivity is not the same as completeness. These metrics lean heavily toward cardiovascular and autonomic recovery. They don’t directly measure tissue integrity, neurochemical state, emotional load, or meaning even though each of these pieces play major roles in the health equation. We can appear recovered in one domain while still carrying unresolved strain in another, and unfortunately, physical metrics only tell us so much.
Why can we feel so “off” even if the metrics look great?
Even if our stats look solid, they don’t fully account for how readiness is layered, and not all layers recover on the same timeline.
Autonomic recovery often happens faster than structural or cognitive recovery. Heart rate variability may rebound within a night or two, while connective tissue, immune signaling, or neurotransmitter balance may lag behind. The numbers claim that the system is calm, but parts of the system are still recalibrating.
This is common after travel, emotionally charged weeks, or blocks of sustained cognitive demand. The nervous system may downshift out of acute stress quickly, while the subjective sense of effort remains elevated. The body isn’t necessarily confused. It’s just prioritizing protection until all signals align.
Why can we feel great even when biometrics say “low readiness”?
Motivation and context can temporarily mask physiological strain. Readiness scores are backward-looking. They reflect how the system handled load yesterday, not how meaning, novelty, or motivation might mobilize energy today. Dopaminergic drive, social context, and perceived purpose can all elevate performance despite incomplete recovery on paper.
This doesn’t mean the data is wrong. It means that our system might be borrowing. High readiness feelings on low-readiness days are often fueled by arousal rather than restoration. The body can do this occasionally, and does it well, but the cost might show up later if we don’t recover properly, not on the day we see our metrics.
The difference between capacity and willingness
Feeling ready doesn’t always mean being resourced. Capacity refers to what tissues, metabolism, mental state, and neural circuits can sustainably support. Willingness reflects motivation, arousal, and intent. They often align, but not always. When they diverge, confusion sets in.
Athletes might recognize this when a warm-up feels effortless, but performance fades quickly. Non-athletes may feel it when focus is sharp early in the day, then collapses by mid-afternoon. In both cases, willingness outpaces capacity. The system allows it at the moment but calls in the debt much earlier than we may have hoped.
Emotional load rarely shows up in biometrics
Our sense of meaning can alter physiology without always altering baseline signals. Interpersonal stress, uncertainty, grief, or prolonged vigilance can elevate perceived effort without dramatically shifting heart rate, sleep duration, or other observable metrics. The nervous system stays subtly guarded. Muscles carry tone. Attention narrows. Movement loses fluidity.
These states are metabolically expensive but not always noticeable. A wearable may miss them entirely, while our body feels unmistakably different and heavy. This can be seen as another dataset operating in parallel that just isn’t being measured, not our intuition overriding the metrics we’re used to.
When should data lead, and when should sensation lead?
Neither should dominate because agreement matters more than authority. When metrics and sensation align, both good or both poor, the signal is clear. When they diverge, the most informative move is to be curious about the discrepancy rather than force ourselves one way or the other. Conflicts point to unresolved load somewhere in the system. It’s then our decision if we want to investigate it.
If numbers are good but the body resists, the signal is often incomplete recovery. If numbers are poor but the body feels elastic, the signal is often borrowed energy. Neither is “wrong.” Each is just describing a different layer of readiness.
Training, work, and the cost of misinterpretation
Problems arise when one signal is consistently ignored. Chronic overreliance on data can train us to distrust lived experience. Chronic dismissal of data can normalize running on debt. Both patterns increase injury risk, burnout, and emotional volatility over time.
Our nervous system learns from repetition, and if it repeatedly sees effort without restoration, it adapts defensively. If it repeatedly sees restoration without challenge, capacity plateaus. Interpreting our readiness is less about precision and more about pattern recognition across weeks, not days.
Readiness as a conversation, not a verdict
The body is rarely issuing commands. Often, it’s offering highly valuable information.
The most resilient performers, including athletes and non-athletes alike, treat readiness as dialogue. Data provides context, sensation provides reference points, and performance decisions emerge from their overlap.
This framing removes moral weight and decision fatigue. A low score isn’t a failure, and a heavy body isn’t a flaw. Both are adaptive signals shaped by load, history, and environment. The system is always doing its best to keep itself intact. It might serve us better to see readiness as coherence between systems, not just raw energy to be exploited.
True readiness feels less like hype and more like clarity, where our movement feels coordinated, attention feels available, and effort scales predictably with demand. When readiness is present, the system isn’t forcing output; it’s allowing it.
Biometrics can point toward this state. Sensation can confirm it. When they disagree, the goal isn’t to pick sides but to notice what hasn’t fully resolved yet. That awareness, over time, is what builds sustainable capacity.
References
McEwen, B. S., & Gianaros, P. J. (2011). Stress- and allostasis-induced brain plasticity. Annual Review of Medicine, 62, 431–445.
Marcora, S. M., Staiano, W., & Manning, V. (2009). Mental fatigue impairs physical performance. Medicine & Science in Sports & Exercise, 41(4), 857–864.
Meeusen, R., et al. (2013). Prevention, diagnosis, and treatment of the overtraining syndrome. European Journal of Sport Science, 13(1), 1–24.
Halson, S. L. (2014). Monitoring training load to understand fatigue in athletes. Sports Medicine, 44(S2), 139–147.
Sapolsky, R. M. (2004). Why Zebras Don’t Get Ulcers. Henry Holt and Company.





