Today I ran through the new neighborhood. My objective: Scope out a 10-mile loop for my upcoming shadow Tar Heel 10-Miler. Sounds good, right? (Unless you’re not a runner. If you’re not a runner, it probably sounds nuts).

I left the house, Galaxy strapped to my arm and no headphones in my ears (to be safe). I make it three-quarters of a mile into the run/walk interval (we have HILLS in the new ‘hood, like big-mother hills), and I realize I’m wearing the wrong shoes. I was wearing my Brooks P4s, not my Hoka Bondis. I always run on the road in my Hokas. OK, not a prob, I’ll do more of the slower run, I thought. Both have the same drop. I also mentally cursed the stupid iHome arm band because it is ripped and scratchy on my arm.

Then the tunes drop. No Rhapsody. And because I had updated the Galaxy, my music  was magically deleted from the device and my SD card (insert swearing). I don’t know about you, but music makes running feel less like a chore. Well, good music makes it fun.

And then the Garmin died. This is my second Garmin. Second death. It’s a great watch for telling time. Period.

I had two choices: enjoy the natural sounds and run, or go home pissed off. I went with No. 1. As I ran around the pond, I heard the Canada geese hiss their displeasure at my proximity to their grazing. I heard the grind and clank of a riding lawnmower, the chirps of  birds, the clank of a dog’s tags as he barked in what I hope was a greeting, and the planes roaring overhead. It wasn’t terrible. But it made me appreciate my music.