We both knew this day was coming. You’ll think it sounds trite, but it’s not you, it’s me. 
We’ve had an amazing run together – countless amazing runs in fact. Well, not countless. You counted them. 

But you no longer synch with my foot pod, and I miss knowing my cadence. 
You refuse to upload to Garmin Connect without coercion, and you know how I hate it when we fight. 
You keep crashing on race day, and I can’t cope with your unpredictability. 
I need to be sure all those miles will be logged and no PB will be missed. 
I felt I owed it to you for us to make it to Rome together. We’d been through so much to get there and we’ve both got the scars to prove it, me on my knees and you on your casing – forever marked with the traces of that pesky cobblestone by the Vatican and the tumble we took. 
Don’t worry, I’m not going to sell you. Your worth is beyond eBay. And I won’t give you away. Not even to my sister, who I know is desperate for a Garmin. She won’t love you like I love you, or know how to handle your quirks (besides, she’s getting a puppy in two weeks and I will not have you turned into a chew toy).
So it’s off to the spare tech drawer under the telly for you, beloved Forerunner 405. You can never be replaced, but it’s true I am now working with a younger model. 

Forerunner 225 has big beeps to fill. 
Thank you my friend, for every mile. 
Try not to think of this as a negative split. 

This post was inspired by the Everyday Inspiration prompts from Blogging University. If there’s a particular subject or format you would like to read more of, I’m looking for inspiration from you for future posts. Chuck me a comment or ping me a note via my Contact page.