Since getting my Fitbit in 2020, we’ve been best friends – something that has made me feel like I am at least trying to improve my health. So when I got my hands on the most popular smart ring on the market, the Oura Ring Gen 3, to test out, I was sceptical. Could it live up to the device that only leaves my wrist once a week (to charge)?
The Oura Ring was first released in 2015 by the Finnish company Oura Health, billed as a smart tracker disguised as jewellery. It offered an alternative to the clunky watches with sometimes huge screens, and was the first smart ring on the market.
Since then, sales – and those of the smart ring market in general – have ballooned. According to Global Market Insights, smart ring sales topped £159m in 2023 and are predicted to reach nearly £1bn in 2032. Celebrity endorsement has undoubtedly helped: the titanium-coated tracker has been spotted on actress Jennifer Aniston, some of England’s male football team, Kim Kardashian and Prince Harry.
If it’s good enough for them, it is for me – although, tracking health like a celebrity doesn’t come cheap. I was surprised when I had to sign up for a £5.99 monthly subscription to access all my data in Oura’s accompanying app. Considering the ring alone costs over double my Fitbit Versa 2 at £349 it seemed excessive.
The Oura ring I’m testing out is one of the newer models, released in 2021 – their latest is to be released this month. At first glance it’s bigger than I thought. Unlike the other gold rings I wear it’s double the thickness – my mum compared it to a knuckle duster.
Like my FitBit, the Oura tracks sleep, activity and heart rate; it can also keep tabs on my stress levels, menstrual cycle and temperature. It does so from my finger – preferably the index – which is supposedly more accurate than the wrist given the higher perfusion index (a measurement of how well blood is circulating in a specific area of the body) in our fingers. The data is all sent to the Oura app via Bluetooth.
The app itself has four measures of wellness: sleep, activity, resilience and readiness, and can be personalised for your own health goals. Mine were my usual 10,000 steps, eight hours of good sleep and mild weight loss. For some of them I had to wear the ring for a week to get accurate readings but when I did I could see why this little circular piece of titanium is so beloved.
When it came to sleep, the data was in-depth, but easy to understand, and quickly available within a few seconds of updating the app in the morning. With it came a “readiness score” out of 100 informing me how well rested I was and how my body would cope for the day. As I’d spent an insufficient time in a deep sleep state, my score was low at 67.
“If you’re feeling low on energy, take it easy for the rest of the day,” mine read after sleeping for just over six hours but being in bed for seven.
The daily stress measurement is also useful: when it peaked, usually in the morning, the ring would politely remind me to give myself a few minutes to recharge and unwind. As a hyper-achiever who feels like a failure when I don’t hit 10,000 steps a day or do at least one workout, it was a nice reminder that my body also needs to relax, and that it’s OK to sit and unwind once in a while.
Each night the ring gave me my ideal bedtime (usually between 9.30 and 10.30pm) and reminded me to wind down an hour beforehand for better sleep quality. Heart health is another thing it measures, and according to Oura, my cardiovascular health sits at age 21 – a year younger than I am – which I’m extremely happy with.
For women, it’s also a godsend. Tracking my cycle couldn’t have been easier, and insights into my period came monthly. Older women have the option to track their menopause symptoms.
The best part, though, was having what felt like my own little GP on my finger. After my readiness score started declining and the accompanying text started sounding worried that my heart rate had been elevated for two days in a row, I came down with the flu. Now, due to my little gold companion, I see I was being warned that this could happen, and next time I’ll be aware and potentially able to stave off the next inevitable bout. I took “it easy” under the instructions of the app.
There are of course downsides. Wearing a ring is much easier to sleep and do life with than a clunky watch but as the Oura is quite thick and wide, I had to move it from my index finger to my fourth finger on my non-dominant hand so it stopped getting in the way. I’d love to see a more dainty design among their shape and material options.
I also had concerns about longevity. The Oura cannot be repaired and the battery cannot be replaced so when it eventually fails me I’ll have to spend £349 on another one. It’s ultimately disposable. Of course I’m not sure how long it’ll last – according to Oura it works at 80 per cent capacity after 500 full charging cycles. This is approximately seven years for me, as I charge it every five days, but by then I’d have amounted another £500 on the monthly subscription alone. And if I put on weight and needed a new size I’d also have to fork out again.
And, while Oura rings are among the highest rated in regards to sleep quality and have been found to have 99.9 per cent reliability compared to a medical-grade ECG for resting heart rate, when it came to my steps, it tracked around 1000-2000 more than my Fitbit. For now, I’ve chosen to give the ring the benefit of the doubt.
Neuroscientist Dr Nicola Avena, who specialises in food addiction, says obsessing over health trackers in general can be a problem though. “As we get more advanced with technology and we have the ability to measure things like the calories we burn or the steps we take, there’s a cost,” she tells i.
“For some individuals it can go from being a healthy type of behaviour to something that people can become obsessed with. It’s great to monitor health but if that’s causing anxiety and stress that is detrimental, it factors the other out.”
Despite the downsides, however, I can safely say I have been converted. I’ve officially ditched the FitBit, but I’ll keep in mind it doesn’t mean everything – and the statistics are helpful but can’t determine my life.