FOR THE LOVE OF…..GARMIN

FOR THE LOVE OF…….GARMIN

Around 8 years ago, in the midst of a challenging Christmas season marked by a huge life change and the novelty of solo living, I decided to gift myself something special. I embarked on a quest for the perfect sport/smart watch, scouring reviews, seeking advice from friends, and ultimately settling on the Forerunner 735XT Garmin. Not only did it tick all the boxes, but it was also conveniently on sale for Black Friday, fitting snugly within my budget.

Excitedly, I strapped on my new Garmin, envisioning the colorful bands I could adorn it with to inject some fun into my workouts. With a quick exploration of its features, I located the start button, eager to ensure that every step and exertion would be meticulously tracked during my upcoming run. True to form, I skipped right past the instruction manual and setup guide, a habit of mine when confronted with new gadgets. Instead, I stuck to my tried-and-true method: fumbling around until frustration kicks in, then turning to Google for a quick fix.

The following day, as I embarked on my inaugural run with Garmin by my side, I returned home to scroll through the myriad of data displayed on its screen: run time, distance covered, calories burned, and even a minuscule map outlining my route. It was a moment of sheer exhilaration. In the days that followed, I continued to run and bike, dutifully recording every movement and scrutinizing the screen post-workout. Early on, each day, my watch would vibrate with a gentle reminder to “Get Moving,” to which I’d enthusiastically respond, “Yes!”.  It felt like Garmin and I were forging a close bond, on the brink of an intimate relationship.

However, the honeymoon phase was short-lived. One morning, I awoke feeling under the weather, confined to my bed with illness. Ordinarily, even in such circumstances, I’d muster the strength for some form of physical activity. But this time, I was incapacitated. As my watch vibrated with its customary prompt, “Let’s get moving,” I mustered a feeble “No, not today.” The following day, as my condition persisted, I braced myself for another unwelcome reminder from my watch. Sure enough, it chimed and vibrated, urging me to action once more. Annoyance began to simmer within me. Couldn’t it detect that I was unwell? Wasn’t this a “smart” watch, designed to be intuitive? To add insult to injury, a notification popped up, declaring that I had earned a badge – for being the most well-rested individual. The irony was not lost on me. Here I was, battling illness and striving to recuperate, only to be labeled as lazy by my trusted companion. It felt like a betrayal, a low blow delivered at a time when I was already feeling vulnerable.  As I lay there in bed, I thought it was time for drastic measures and I googled how to turn off the “get moving” alert. I swore that if it was up to me, I would never win that “Lazy” badge again. Looking back, those moments should have served as clear signs of the potentially toxic nature of our budding relationship.

As time passed, I delved deeper into the world of Garmin, eager to unlock its full potential. I turned to Google to learn how to download the Garmin app onto my phone and computer. With each new discovery, my fascination with my Garmin watch grew. I soon learned about the option to add workouts and courses, allowing me to explore new biking or running trails. Gradually, I began documenting my workouts in detail—recording not just the data but also how I felt during each session and even who accompanied me, besides Garmin, of course. As I compiled this information, my workouts felt more complete, and I could tangibly see my progress.

Despite my previous affinity for expensive daily wear watches, I found myself increasingly drawn to my Garmin, relegating my other timepieces to a drawer. I even opted to wear my Garmin on dressier occasions, counting steps even during formal events. My affection for my Garmin reached new heights, to the point where I allowed it to accompany me in the shower and even during sleep. However, the honeymoon phase was once again short-lived as Garmin and I disagreed over my sleep, or I should say lack of sleep. Despite restless nights, Garmin would often declare me well-rested, eagerly nudging me on to do harder and longer workouts even on the days I felt tired.  Once again I felt annoyed with my partner but I ignored the potential warning signs and just assumed that these were the quirks of being in a relationship.  

Last year I upgraded to the Fenix 7—a Garmin watch with a larger screen, longer battery life, and a plethora of new features. Once again, I found myself enamored with my new Garmin, eager to explore its capabilities. Amidst my scrolling, I stumbled upon daily running workouts tailored to improve my fitness level, a godsend as I transitioned from structured training set up by my trainer in Spain to solo workouts in the Midwest.

Now back in the US, I find my daily activity levels dwindling compared to my active lifestyle in Spain. The sedentary nature of American life, marked by driving instead of walking, posed a challenge. Because of this, my Garmin’s insistence on rest days irked me as I wanted as much activity as possible, especially on days when I felt invigorated and energized. Ignoring its warnings, I pushed through, only to be met with even more adamant directives to ¨Rest¨ eventually after not abiding by its wishes it finally told me ¨REST¨ in preparation for harder workouts to come. WHAT???? Was my Garmin now dictating my fitness regimen? Threatening me with harder workouts? I refused to succumb to its commands, adamant that my fitness journey would be dictated by me, not my watch.

Although my love for Garmin remains strong, I’ve decided to take a step back in our relationship. I now remove it on occasion, allowing myself moments of freedom from its constant monitoring. Last weekend, I retrieved my beloved automatic watch from the depths of a drawer and wore it proudly. This isn’t a breakup, but rather a conscious effort to reduce my reliance on Garmin. It’s become a close friend, a companion, but no longer a dictator of my every move. And I’m perfectly okay with that.