All I wanted to know was, how fast I’m going, and how far? Not to be
obliged to run a particular route, just because it’s the one I’ve mapped
out in advance. To go where the fancy takes me, and to come back with
meaningful information that I can use as part of my training program.
So, I invested in the very simplest of the vast array of GPS-equipped fandangos
available at the moment, and took my first run with the infernal
contraption strapped to my wrist today. I’ve known of the existence of
these things for some time now, managing to ignore them in a contentedly
luddite fashion for just as long. I run to escape, not least from being
stuck in front of a computer for most of my working day. Why would I
want to allow technology to blunder rudely in upon my relaxation time?
Eventually, though, curiosity’s got the better of me. That, and the
promise of just heading out with no fixed plan and following my feet.
How marvelous, but also, how frightening? This thing knows exactly where I’ve been,
how long it’s taken me to get there, how fast I was going at which
point, my precise elevation above sea level at any given moment, and
what I'm thinking about at the time. Well, maybe not the last one, but
you get the picture. It could even tell me how fast my heart’s beating,
if I’d bought the necessary accessory (I probably will buy the
necessary accessory at some point). The amount of data that it captures
is quite astonishing, much more than I really need. Is it going to turn
my runs into techno-fests of number crunching? I don’t think so – I
reckon the attraction of the bells and whistles will wear off soon. Will
it reinvigorate my training, and help to get me out of bed on the cold,
dark winter mornings that are rapidly approaching? I think it might.
