Get ready for a personal fitness party on your wrist.
Words :: Rudy Jenkins
A few years back, my husband received a Garmin (a fēnix 7X Sapphire Solar) and proudly wowed us with its functions. It was a gift from his employer, a guy who knew my husband needed to get his arse into shape and thought a fancy gadget would be the perfect prod.
It worked, and that gift caused a veritable explosion of lifestyle changes still reverberating in our household. It went a bit like this: Husband joins the gym, quickly becomes a member of the fitness community there. Husband buys a Garmin for me, following the lead of his boss. My Garmin (an Instinct 2S Solar) encourages me to do more, and I start running.
Then I can’t stop running. I run on the trails. I run on the road, on the treadmill. I start canicrossing with my dogs. I strength train to run farther and faster. I crosstrain in the pool. My daughter catches the bug and starts setting her alarm for pre-breakfast trail runs. I upgrade my Garmin, passing on the Instinct to my son (I offered it to my daughter first, promise), who also heads into the woods. Where his girlfriend joins him, just a step behind.
We’re now—a fitness family? How did this happen?
A Garmin, that’s what happened.
My current edition is a fēnix 8 43 mm AMOLED, and it may as well be welded to my wrist. I take it off only to shower and charge—the latter is required about once a week (the former is a multiple-times-per-day affair; no one warned me about this part of being fit). It’s part of me now. The Instinct was a great introduction—I learned how to use the functions, got comfortable with the system. But, as a person of a certain age, I require reading glasses for most type—and that included my fairly small and low-contrast Instinct face. Until I strapped on this fēnix 8, I was pretty much blindly fumbling, relying on the Connect app for information.
I’m not a techy person. I cannot rattle off the hardware and software features of the device. (If you’re researching sportwatches and need to know this stuff, DC Rainmaker is your guy.) I don’t know the relative battery life of one Garmin vs another, nor the ins and outs of their interface redesign. I don’t even know how to utilize many of the running metrics I’m presented with after every workout—at least not yet (vertical ratio, anyone?). What I do know is this watch is intuitive as hell. Everything is where it should be, easily accessible with a quick tap, swipe or push of a button. And somehow it makes training even more fun.
We’re now—a fitness family? How did this happen? A Garmin, that’s what happened.
External feedback is apparently my thing—or maybe I just like flashy moving images. Because the encouragement I receive post-run has me waiting, phone set to record, every time I have a great workout. Got a PB on that 10K? Triple your step count today? Run farther than you’ve ever run? My eyes are glued to the watch face after hitting “save”—because that animated haptic party is worth 10 puppy videos of dopamine hits.
I rely on detailed training plans for my slow-but-steady progress as a runner. But I also schedule upcoming races in the Connect app and let the Garmin Run Coach set up a training plan for me—because no one, not even me, knows my fitness level and abilities better than this system that has tracked every workout I’ve completed over 18 months. More often than not, when I have an easy 8 km run on my static plan, Garmin’s suggested workout for the day will be identical. And when my plan dictates a speed workout, my watch will suggest the same, with the segments preprogrammed and waiting for me. It’s fluid, continually being tweaked based on my current levels.
Built into those Connect training plans are strength workouts, specific to you and your sport. And they’re animated. What the hell? This is ingenious. Who wouldn’t want to follow these illustrations?
If I need it, the Connect app and web portal are fast and logical—I can quickly set up my own workouts just minutes before I head out the door. When other systems make me want to throw something in frustration, this one is a seamless no-brainer.
I chose this particular model after comparing options from the Garmin fleet of sportwatches: I needed the running-specific functions. I needed the smaller size for my smaller wrist. And I really wanted—no, needed—the litany of activities available: Strength training? Check. Lap swimming? Check. Backcountry skiing? Check. Snowshoeing? Check. Paddleboarding? Check. Golf? Ha! Gotcha. (But it’s there, and apparently very well done, for you weirdos.)
A colour AMOLED display is necessary for these eyes. And, as someone who gets lost in their own backyard, I tossed the navigation system in the needed column, as well. The fēnix 8 checked all the boxes, and after I unboxed it I never looked back.
The only wish-list items for me are the ability to tell Garmin you’re injured (do you know a runner who hasn’t experienced an overuse injury?) and a canicross activity option—because when my huskies pull me nearly twice as fast as I regularly run, the metrics get really confused.
Garmin will continue to introduce new and improved watches; that’s how technology works. But the fēnix 8 43 mm AMOLED is, for me, the ultimate. I do believe you’d have to pry the thing from my cold, dead wrist before I agree to upgrade. (Okay, maybe for a canicross option. Just maybe.)
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