I have always thought of myself as an active person. Hiking, skiing, ice hockey, ping pong, tennis, wilderness canoeing – you name it and I was game. From my tiny years when playing tackle football meant throwing myself around someone’s legs and hanging on as I was dragged the length of the field to the present day when more dignified activities like pickleball reign, action and sports have been a consistent, and nontrivial, part of my self-image.

And then I got a Fitbit. The first few days were great plain fun. I loved watching the fireworks when I achieved the recommended 10,000 steps. I found pleasure in the flights, miles, calories burned, and active minutes that accrued. I bounced out of my chair when buzzed to ensure I hit the hourly minimum throughout the day.

About a week in, on a work-filled, rainy Sunday, I pretty much forgot about the Fitbit. I ignored the hourly buzz. I just plugged away to get everything finished.

At the end of the day, I was horrified to see I was nowhere near 10,000 steps. I hadn’t even hit 3,000! I missed the hourly minimum hour after hour. The number of calories I burned was pitiful. I may as well forget about eating unless I wanted to gain weight. I was officially sedentary!

But that was less than half of my horror. The real problem was my realization that days like this probably weren’t especially rare! Between heavy work days and bad weather, dare I say 3,000-step days might be closer to normal than the active days? It was a terrible thought. It shook my core – the very image of who I thought I was.

My personal narrative–the default image reflected in answers to questions about myself and the story I tell myself– included being an active person. The Fitbit data proved me wrong. I was out of sync with who I thought I was. The data made that perfectly clear.

We change over time. And that is a good thing. So it is not uncommon for self-images to diverge from reality. But that is definitely not a good thing! When the story you tell yourself, and that informs your responses to others, doesn’t match the real world, trouble brews.

Picture the aging, sagging athlete who talks about physical activity and accomplishments as if an offer to replace Tom Brady is imminent. Are you impressed? Or are you embarrassed and feeling pity? Is this a leader you would follow with enthusiasm?

How about the boss who speaks with pride about his generosity, but then never gives to the United Way, picks up the tab in a restaurant, or, most generous of all, contributes time to help someone out?

Or the one who preaches family values and work/life balance, but frequently makes demands that keep employees at work through the dinner hour?

Our personal narratives are important. They inform our behavior. They give us strength, pride, and conviction.

When our personal narratives are in sync with reality, credibility follows. Our behavior echoes our words. Respect and trust are natural consequences.

When out of sync with reality, we look lost, disingenuous, foolish, or downright dishonest.

And when we recognize the discontinuity, as I did upon seeing the Fitbit data, we feel like imposters. It’s not a good feeling!

Congruence between the stories we tell and believe about ourselves and the behaviors we exhibit to the world is important. It is a huge part of being authentic.

It is especially important for people who want to be good, strong, effective leaders. Authentic leaders come out way ahead.

If you discover a gap, as I did, be thankful for that clarity! Because clarity creates options. In this situation, you have three options:

1. Revise your self-image and accept who you really are.

For me, that would require acknowledging my active persona as a thing of the past. Walking away from being active would also mean accepting the inevitability of weight gain, an outcome I would have to own as entirely of my own making.

2. Ignore reality and fool yourself.

I could redefine ‘active’ or tell myself the Fitbit was wrong. I could dismiss the 10,000 step recommendation as baloney. I could also just ignore my Fitbit on sedentary days. I could even leave it in a drawer and take it out only when I had big activities planned.

3. Change your behaviors.

To maintain a personal narrative as an active person, I would have to make some significant changes in my habits and daily routines. I needed to eliminate the vast majority of days with fewer than 10,000 steps and only a handful of active minutes.

The Fitbit changed my life. As suddenly as I recognized that I wasn’t as active as I thought, I knew I would never find out how sedentary I had actually been because I would never let it happen again. I chose option #3 at that moment. I promised myself right then and there that 10,000 was my daily minimum. That decision changed my life. I even moved to a new house. I walked away from car culture. I now live where I can walk to everything – groceries, my post office box, pickleball, hiking, restaurants, plays, concerts, and more. I believe that if I keep walking and playing, I will be able to keep walking and playing for many years to come. And now I can say with joy, pride, and confidence that I am indeed an active person.

Are you who you think you are? Where does your personal narrative diverge from reality? What are you doing that is out of sync with your self-image and the words you speak?

You may not know the answer. I wouldn’t without the help of my FitBit. But you can always ask for feedback from your peers, direct reports, and friends. It goes something like this: “What do I do that doesn’t ring true with what I say?”

The responses you receive could change your life. At the very least, they can make you a better, more authentic person and leader.

Ann Latham is an expert on the transformative power of strategic clarity and author of The Clarity Papers. Download a free copy of The Clarity Quiz Collection from her website.

This article first appeared on Forbes, May 10th, 2018