Alright 610, you little heathen, you better be ready to put your dukes up and defend because I am going to have my way with you, and I promise you, when I am done, you will be worse for wear than Edward Norton in Fight Club. And don’t be thinking your good looks will be saving you this time. Nope, that card’s run dry.
Oh sure, there was a time when you had glamoured me with your blue-strapped beauty, slim, sultry curves, and modern sophistication. A time when I gladly turned my back on my loyal, but weathered and somewhat unrefined, 305 in favour of you. YOU were my apple.
And every day since I’ve been paying the ultimate price.
You are a turtle, a slug, a sloth; you take forever connecting to the satellites, and I know you’re doing it on purpose, dawdling to my breaking point, laughing as I frantically jump around doing the satellite dance. I thought I could get around it, outsmart you if you will, I thought I could run while waiting for the satellites to connect, but no, you couldn’t let me have that either, could you? Nope. Totally messing with my pace stats, and if I’m on the trails, completely stalling out, not connecting at all. Jerk face.
But we don’t stop there, do we? Nah, that would be too easy.
You like to screw with my programs too, making me think their set up properly, only to completely mess up mid run. Or, how about that overbearing pull of yours, keeping my fingers clear away from the lap button when I should be lapping. Or the way you shrink your screen to a dot, blurring the numbers, only when I’m running, and especially at night. And what the heck is up with that back light of yours anyway, seriously, how on earth is anyone, even someone with bionic eyes, supposed to read tha screen with a half a milli-second of light whilst in the pitch black darkness? Jerk face.
And then there was that last run of ours. You know the one. The one where I had everything perfectly programmed. The one where I had made sure to turn you on for the drive out to the starting location to ensure we’d capture those satellites in good time. The one where I couldn’t be blamed for a thing. The one where everything was perfect – except you.
The one where your screen completely froze two seconds before starting the run. I couldn’t turn you on. I couldn’t turn you off. Nothing. And when you did finally turn on well into the run, you were not budging to give me those satellites. I had nothing. For the entire run!
That was the ultimate jerk face. Time for a serious Garmin beat down!
YESTERDAY’S NO-GARMIN RUN:
8:45 a.m. BG before: 11.6
Temp. basal: none
Carbs: none (b/c of BG)
Time: 90 minutes (75′ easy pace; 15′ 5km goal pace)
Distance: Approximately 15 km
Average pace: ?
Average cadence: ?
Fuel: @30 minutes BG: 4.8 (turned pump off) 2 shot blocks and 1.5 4oz bottles homemade sports drink from 30′-75′
11 a.m. BG after: 9.6
Temp. basal: +100% 2 hours