Dear Phil (a.k.a Garmin 405),
We need to talk. For months we’ve been getting closer – and you have so many of the characteristics I cherish (in a watch).
You listen to me and my heart. You understand me. You communicate so well. All I have to do is look at you, and there you are – giving me feedback, letting me know where we’re at and how far we’ve been. I appreciate it all so much.
But lately you’ve been a jerk. A real jerk.
Here’s the situation. You never complain when I have to get up early for my pre-work runs. You never fail me on my long runs on the weekend. You are super on target most of the time. But then – then (!!) RACE DAY arrives. I assume, perhaps foolishly, that you will stick with me through the race as you have in my training runs. That doesn’t happen. You quit on me, Phil. And that makes me angry.
Do you have performance anxiety? Everyone gets nervous on race day, Phil. But you’re a Garmin 405 – the most sophisticated GPS/Heartrate Monitor on the market. You are the best and brightest watch out there – and yet you fail me.
No, no. I’m not going to argue with you. Just listen.
Lacamas Lake 4 Miler: Our first race together. I admit it was my fault. I forgot to start you. I was unfamiliar with your buttons and scroll screen and my hands were cold. I’m sorry. My mistake, but it put us off to a rocky start.
Gresham Jazz 1/2 Marathon: You quit on me after 1.4 miles. WTF, Phil?!! Where were you? One minute you were giving me my pace and heart rate, and the next minute you became a blank, quiet screen. So not cool.
Lithia Loop Trail Marathon: Mile 1, you were fine. I was fine. Mile two. You were cool. I was cool. Mile 3… I look down and you’re frozen, still showing me the data from 2.7 miles… again, what happened Phil? Where were you? Why always on race day?
Maybe it’s my fault. Maybe it’s user error and I’m pressing weird buttons or, I am forgetting to charge you like you should. Maybe it’s not you. Maybe it’s me.
Regardless, the California International Marathon is only 2 days away. Yes. Sunday. And so we need … I need to figure out a game plan. I can’t be worried about you during the race. I can’t be constantly checking to see if you’re on and with me.
Phil, what am I going to do with you? Either shape up, and do your part, or I’ll be using my backup watch to monitor my splits. I’d like for you to be there, but until you work out your performance issues, I’m afraid you’re going to have to sit this one out.
What can I say – you’re a jerk and I’m a superstitious runner.