The Day The Garmin Died

It happened a couple of weeks ago. By way of context, I am on instructions to run "sensibly" and listen to my body. I get it. I'm injured, and at some point I will reconcile this and blog about my experiences, patience and lack thereof. Later. But a horrific event happened. On my few recent runs, I have been going long and slow. Walking, listening to my body (which for the record says: GO!), taking pathways and trails. And not planning any runs, just going with the flow. I'm a saint. But karma was on to me. It was raining, I wanted to run, so I decided to do a short blowout - test the sea legs as it were. One of my favourite short run strategies to put some speed into my legs and have some fun goes like this: warm up, then alternate KM intervals - one at approximately 5K race pace, the other at "Hell Bent" pace. Right, as fast as I possibly can. But I was being sensible - so I took my run indoors to a track. Smart right? Remember karma. I do my warm up laps and press the magic button on my trusty Garmin watch. The comforting beep told me that the first kilometer was ahead to I stretched out my excited legs and hit the effort that felt right for 5K pace. It felt sublime. Freedom!!! Unless I am shooting for a specific time (I was into effort more this day - sensible, remember?) I try not to look at my watch. For workouts like this, stats aren't necessary. Beep. 1 KM done. GO. LIKE. STINK. LEGS!!! and they went. Pumping out, stride skimming the grounds, breath in perfect rhythm with movement. I kinda felt, actually I didn't feel anything other than movement and effort. My happy place. Beep! Aahhhh time to gear down. Find that other effort level. Keep strong and powerful, but in control of breath and body. And, well, I should check my watch. That last interval was the bomb. Felt superhuman. I could sneak a little look at interval time. Just a peek? Whaaaa? Stopping dead in the middle of the track, as though shot. No. Really? I so have no presumption that I am a fast runner, but after running so hard my veins were bulging and tracks had been worn into lane #4, I felt that the numbers on the watch were a little off. I stood in the middle of the track looking something like this...

Yes. My trusty Garmin had failed me. I know this because I tried and tested and stopped and started and cursed and shook it and yelled and moaned and cried.It was not working properly. I am very proud of my fellow exercisers that they had the self control to not call 911. It wasn't pretty and I ended up like this:

So here's the inspiring part about the whole run. I picked myself up, ran and enjoyed it, felt beautiful bliss and joy, achieved my fun run and all was well. Nope. I sulked off the track, pulled off my running shoes and slammed my poor Garmin watch into my gym bag with an intensity that I generally reserved for my efforts on a run or for warding off my husband on a Friday night. Screw you wonky GPS! Until the next day, when we tried again and enjoyed some quality time kissing and making up, and hitting the trails in perfect harmony. Right on time.