Those of us who struggle with our fitness would ideally love a dedicated personal trainer to steer us back to vigour and vitality, someone who monitors us carefully and motivates us with an enthusiastic fist-bump. But busy schedules and conflicting priorities can get in the way, and even the friendliest gym environment can feel intimidating from time to time. Bedroom mirrors, by contrast, don’t usually put the fear of God into us. One equipped with an AI-powered personal trainer can turn out to be rather alluring.

Some fitness mirrors come with bulky stands that make them the focal point of a room, but this one, by a brand called Magic, presents as a rather modest wall-hanger. When you’re about five feet away, an almost invisibly embedded camera identifies the frame of your body and starts to track the movement of your limbs and torso. Then it’s time to start your routine, guided by a trainer who, despite being AI-powered and pre-recorded, has vivid awareness of how well you’re doing, because the sensors capture the critical information: how high you’re lifting dumbbells, how far apart your feet are and so on. Your reps are counted, the quality of your technique recorded, your burned calories registered. If you’re toting an Apple Watch or Fitbit, that data can be factored in.

It’s more nuanced and personal than Peloton could ever be

Your choice of trainers includes former England cricket captain Sir Alastair Cook, Strictly Come Dancing’s Katya Jones and Team GB’s Asha Philip, Celia Quansah and Desirèe Henry. There are currently about 120 AI-tracked exercises, dozens of one-off classes of 15, 30 or 45 minutes, and new content gets added over-the-air every week. And there are no ongoing subscription fees. (The Pro version also comes with a dumbbell set and a folding incline bench.)

Magic has been described as “Black Mirror meets Peloton”, but that does it a disservice; it has none of the sinister qualities of Black Mirror, and is more nuanced and personal than Peloton could ever be. And unlike an exercise bike, rower or treadmill, it’s guaranteed never to become an expensive clothes hanger. Magic Pro, £1,999

Type in heavenly peace

The sound made by keyboards has become almost fetishised. Enthusiasts avidly pursue the perfect “clack” or “thock” (yes, that’s a thing) and they’re catered for by countless companies who sell a jaw-dropping selection of key switches, keycaps, O-rings and lubricants. The Trezo, however, recognises that the din can be maddening for people sitting nearby, and is an attempt at producing as quiet a keyboard and mouse as possible. The mouse has a near-silent click that you feel but barely hear, while the 110-key keyboard is pleasingly demure, comfortable under the wrists and fingers, compatible with Mac and PC and (as they don’t say on the box but really should) library-quiet. Trezo keyboard and mouse, £34.99, trust.com

Juice without tears

Juicers are bought with the best of intentions, but the tedium of prepping and cleaning can often see them shoved into dusty cupboards. Initially, there’s nothing to suggest that the REVO830 will be any different, with a load of parts that scream “maintenance”. Once assembled, however, it’s a joy to use and a cinch to clean. You can lob whole fruit and veg into the feeding tubes, with juice emerging from one chute and pulp from another. Most parts can be rinsed clean, and the one that needs proper scrubbing – the strainer – comes with a rotating brush that removes stubborn pith in seconds. Minimal faff, maximum juice. Kuvings REVO830 cold press juicer, £549, ukjuicers.com

Language bot, je t’aime

Given the rapid advances in natural language processing, it makes perfect sense that AI should be used to help us learn the languages that computers have been quietly mastering by themselves. The language-learning app Memrise now has a feature called Membot that can hold up one end of a realistic conversation. You can either type out or speak your replies (your words are transcribed on screen), and Membot will remain patient while you try to remember the imperfect subjunctive. It’s also very helpful, discreetly correcting spelling and word order. Pick from a multitude of role-play scenarios (including “say I love you without saying ‘I love you’” – and you’re off. Memrise, £6.99 a month, £24.99 a year

A notebook you’ll never fill up

It was a wrench when I stopped using pens and notebooks a few years back and went “full keyboard”, but had Rocketbook been around then I may not have bothered. The Pro version is vegan-leather bound and comes with 20 double-sided sheets of synthetic paper and a Pilot FriXion pen. Sketch or write to your heart’s delight, then use the free Rocketbook app on your phone to scan the pages (just tap and point) and beam them to cloud-based services or email. Written notes can be auto-transcribed, and it dealt well with my idiosyncratic writing style. The synthetic paper could hardly be described as tactile, but crucially, when you’re done, you just wipe with a damp cloth and start over. Rocketbook Pro, from £60

This story originally appeared on: Financial Times - Author:Rhodri Marsden

Swytch has been around for a little while, but its most recent iteration has seen a number of improvements, the most significant being its ridiculously small power pack. It gives a 10-mile radius on one charge, weighs just 700g and can fit into a (big) pocket. That’s partly down to smaller cells packing a bigger punch, and partly down to the motor controller being moved from the battery itself to the handlebar mount. But in any case, the weight the Swytch kit adds to your bike is minimal in comparison to some of the hulking ebikes on the market.

Part of the deal, however, is that you have to assemble it yourself. If you’re not adept at cycle maintenance this can feel daunting, particularly when you open the box to find several smaller boxes, a wheel and a 52-page manual. I confess that I baulked and sought assistance from my local repair shop, Braintree Bike Repairs. But while I was grateful for Matt’s help with moving the tyre and inner tube to the motor wheel, the whole process was comparable to (or easier than) assembling flat-pack furniture. “You could do this in your kitchen in an hour,” said Matt. “It’s idiot-proof. Everything’s labelled and colour-coded. You can’t put it together wrong.”

This story originally appeared on: Financial Times - Author:Rhodri Marsden

If the watch wants to communicate with you, it vibrates twice. That’s all

But while data might be stressful, that doesn’t mean it’s not useful. The underside of Nowatch contains sensors that capture heart rate, temperature, step count and electrodermal activity (EDA), which are sent to an app on your smartphone. You can monitor those metrics individually if you wish, but the idea is to combine them to build up a daily picture of your stress levels. The EDA sensors, included in partnership with healthcare-brand Philips, are crucial – they measure changes in the amount you sweat, which they believe to be a reliable stress indicator. 

Interaction with the watch is absurdly simple. There is one button, and if you want to note a moment when you’re feeling particularly blissed out (or tormented), you push it. The app records this, and later you can label that moment (calm, stressed, energised, etc) to help train the algorithm. If the watch wants to communicate with you, it vibrates twice. That’s all. In doing so, it reminds you to consider yourself and be in the present. You can set these vibrations to occur randomly a handful of times a day, and they will gradually become more driven by the wearer’s physiology. The app then offers a range of mindfulness techniques to help those stresses subside.

This story originally appeared on: Financial Times - Author:Rhodri Marsden