A Short History of Navigation, or Why My Garmin is Worth the Angst

Back in the days of antiquity--2002--when I was training for my first marathon, I was in the dark about a lot of things in the running world. GPS stood for Goin' Pretty Slow, and my pacing goals were threefold: walking, walking faster, and jogging. Distance was my only focus, and for that I used a marvelously simple device that was not troubled by a bezel, lost satellite reception, or hateful customer service reps. It was also decidedly feminine, bearing a not-too-subtle resemblance to a tampon.

A tampon with a notched metal wheel (ouch).

I used this pen to measure distance on a map. A paper one. Remember paper?

Then I learned about this place on the computer called the internets, where you can do all kinds of exciting things, like stalking people and stealing identities. It was a wonderland! My attempts to assume Gwyneth's identity were thwarted by realizing that a little know-how might allow me to steal someone's credit card number but not her gloriously long blond hair and goddess-like features. But I overcame this disappointment in the WWW when I found Map My Run, which I used for my second marathon, when again, I only cared about distance.


But what if I wanted to just head out into the great unknown and know precisely when to turn around for a 11.33-mile run? And what if I thought it might be fun to look at my wrist every 3 seconds to see how fast I was going and if that number in the hundredths place had switched over yet? This would really improve my enjoyment of running. Landscapes of fir trees, wildlife, and sky can get so banal. I needed data.

Yes, a GPS would be mine. Enter the Garmin 305, which I called Big Red, though it's far too complicated to explain why.


Red was a good solid friend, like the reliable one you screw over when someone more intriguing comes along.

And so I got a Garmin 405.

The best way I can describe my decision to trade in Big Red for the new model is to say that I'm in a relationship with this entity that drives me completely insane but who I cannot live without. Most of us have this person in our lives. My watch is this person. If Henry had a sibling, I imagine they'd have a similar relationship.

And so, four months after buying it, I will say that if there is no other option on the market that appeals to your needs, and the price tag isn't a deterrent, it's worth it. I haven't tried Nike +, and there are other foot pod options that might yield less frustrating runs than Garmin. Certainly less frustrating phone calls to customer service. But at this point, the 405 and I are in a mutually disrespectful, yet completely necessary, relationship.

If you look back at my post about calling Garmin, you'll see lots of comments expressing similar angst*. So when you buy one, you know what you might be getting into. That said, once I started wearing the sweat band under the watch, my problems went away. I still think a watch this expensive should not require a sweat band, but there it is.

Other cons:
* Second-to-second pacing is never reliable
* Bezel is affected by rain, and things go wonky from there
* Distance is usually slightly off (usually more than race distance)
* The thing is huge
* Battery doesn't last more than a day on a charge
* Can't sync it with a Mac

Some pros, versus the 305:
* Gets a satellite very fast
* Is more comfortable to a smaller wrist
* Doesn't look like a 1983 Casio calculator watch

So there's my review of the 405. Frankly, you might as well buy one, since the thing seems to be a better investment than the stock market. At least it always yields numbers above zero.

*it's also my in the top-3 for page views, falling behind by my ice bath and my top running songs. Apparently people still care what I think about music after my psycho Springsteen love fest in August. And everyone loves a good ice bath photo.