Forgot to mention in yesterday's post that not only did I take the plunge and buy a stationary bike this weekend, I've also committed myself to being a "real" runner by closing my eyes, handing over my VISA card to be swiped, and purchasing a Garmin Forerunner 405.
Unfortunately, as I learned upon coming home and taking my shiny new Garmin out of the box, I'm not smart enough to own and/or operate a Garmin. Given that a recent review in Runner's World describes the watch as perfect for the "technology challenged," I'm not sure what this says about me. All I know is that I'm going to need to hunt down some 7-year-old computer genius to tell me how to work this thing.
A Garmin, at it's most basic, is a watch. It tracks your time, distance, pace, and calories burned. The old ones used to be the size of small television monitors but this newest version is more manageable. I bought one because this summer's training program is all about pace. I need to know if I'm running fast enough, too slow (ha - not likely), what mile I'm at, etc. It uses satellite to track distance. It's fun to watch runners start their watch before a run by lifting their left wrist high in the air, as if the extra two feet is going to connect them faster to the linkup. (I mock now but soon I will be one of them.)
The Garmin tricks you into buying it by showing only a friendly watch in the packaging. Then when you get it home and open the box, about ten little hooks and plug-ins, and computer chips and whatnot tumble to the floor for your cats to play with. I'm pretty sure a $50 piece of my watch was swatted under the couch early on. Blair saw the look of panic on my face and took over charging the watch for me. Now I have to read the 45-page instruction manual and make it work.
Do you know what a bezel is? Neither do I, but apparently it controls the operation of the entire watch. There is also a wireless sync involved, so that after a run all you have to do is walk by your computer and your run statistics are automatically downloaded into your computer. Some call it advanced technology... I say it's creepy.
I think I'll plan a romantic dinner tonight... candles, soft music... and then instead of reading poetry aloud to my beloved, I'll whisper words such as "GPS-enabled," Virtual Partner pace," and "USB ANT Stick" in the hopes he'll be able to explain to me just what the heck I'm talking about.