When I began running cross-country in high school nearly 15 years ago, gear requirements were limited to shoes from the local retailer and comfortable sporting clothes. A stopwatch was not mandatory for all, as long as someone in your pace group had a way of keeping time. Often, this meant whoever remembered to throw a classic Timex in their backpack would call out when it was time to turn around on an out-and-back route, be “on” or “off” for intervals, and when we’d hit the split (run the targeted time for a given distance).
After joining the varsity squad, I was introduced to a new-to-me piece of timekeeping tech: the Garmin Forerunner 305. The watch offered the ability to track distance, pace and calories burned while also storing past performances for review and comparison. It was bulky on our tiny wrists, and we’d trade off who wore it for the day. Yet, despite some fancy features our coach was excited about, we used it just like a normal watch. At the end of our runs, whoever had the watch would simply hand it to our coach so he could click through our splits. So, I have no digital log to reflect on, no exact splits to measure my progress from, but my memories of running with my team and challenging our bodies are some of my fondest. High school cross-country was key in developing my love for running.
There are parallels for purely recreational runners too: During the running booms in the 70s and 80s, and well before smartwatches, many—mostly white and affluent—people in the U.S. took to running (or “jogging”), heading out in their heavy cotton getups and doing a few loops around the neighborhood. Now, recreational running has diversified to a degree and the tech has advanced significantly. Runners of various abilities and backgrounds often rely on high-tech devices to provide feedback on their marathon training progress or display pace and cadence during neighborhood jaunts. We runners have become so reliant on these devices that we can feel almost naked without them.
On top of that, within the last decade or so, this data has become another piece of content to be shared. Popular fitness apps do double duty, both gathering stats and broadcasting them to friends and strangers. While social platforms can build a community for some, they can add the pressure of creating public vulnerability out of what was once a personal pursuit. As an adult using these platforms, I’ve felt that my runs have become data-driven events that are supposed to be tracked, liked and commented on by my peers.
Despite having been a runner for more than half of my life, the activity doesn’t always come easily to me. I still often struggle to get out the door, approach a start line confidently or stop comparing myself to other runners. And I’ve found that uploading my runs for even more eyes doesn’t calm my self-deprecating thoughts. For that reason, I’ll often leave my data private, which has helped me realize that running just for me is worth more than a few approval notifications.
Still, running is not only a way for me to find individual enjoyment—it’s also social. Races are an opportunity to test my mental and physical strength as well as a place to connect with friends and be a part of something larger. And when I think of running in this more connective sense, I realize that my watch stats are not markers of success.
To test this enlightened perspective, I’ve taken on a challenge. Over the past month, I’ve put myself in scenarios where my run tech was minimal, or even nonexistent, in an effort to rediscover the simple joys of running free. Can I connect more with the activity and those I share it with when I ditch my smartwatch, or is it an essential, practical piece of tech I need to learn to live with?
Here’s what I experienced:
Kicking Off the Experiment: Easy and Free
It’s the first truly sunny day after a Portland, Oregon, winter, and the warmth on my skin is a welcome feeling. I decide this will be the perfect first day to test my ability to run completely without a watch. While I don’t need data on a recovery day, per se, I’ve certainly developed a habit of checking my pace to ensure I’m not dragging, or confirming that I run exactly the prescribed time or distance. I have an easy 25-minute run on my calendar and I take off, excitedly, down the street. “Looking good!” my neighbor exclaims as I run by. “Feeling good!” I reply with a grin. And I am feeling good: Regardless of how long or how far I’ll go, the focus of the day is to recover, move my body and step away from my screen for a bit of time outdoors. Did I run for exactly 25 minutes? I can’t tell you. But what I do know is that running without a watch allowed me to enjoy not only the miles but the moment.
I ask my running coach, Mario Fraioli, what he believes the immediate benefits of this kind of tetherless running are and, apparently, we’re aligned. “Running without a watch brings with it an immediate sense of freedom,” he says. “There’s nothing to quantify your experience in real time, so it helps you to detach from ‘playing to the numbers,’ whether it’s trying to hit a specific pace, lock into a particular heart rate range, maintain power, et cetera.” He even recommends athletes occasionally go without a watch to “break-free from this type-A mindset and be more present, better tune in with [their] bodies and, ultimately, have more fun.”
A Little Compromise: Hitting the Splits
I imagine many runners would be willing to ditch their smartwatch on an easy day, so I decide to test whether I’m able to embrace a similar sense of freedom during a harder effort. Even so, as my husband and I pull up to the track full of run clubs and workout groups on a Saturday morning, I exclaim, “I forgot my watch!” before remembering that I’m supposed to attempt a workout without anything on my wrist. My husband ends up taking my splits because, with a race on the calendar, I don’t want to put in work on the track and walk away simply hoping I nailed it.
Despite not running a pure experiment on the track, I realize I can still explore running my workout without constantly checking my watch. I can also test “running by feel,” since by relying on someone else to call out splits, I’ll only learn every so often if I’m pacing myself correctly. For the first time in several years, my experience on the track may not be so closely tied to the numbers.
“When we become too reliant on the watch, we tie our definition of ‘success’ to a number—be it a finish time, average pace, heart-rate value—and often fail to recognize other things that may have went well during the run that can’t be quantified: how you actually felt, beautiful [sights] and what’s happening around you,” says Fraioli, who’s coached both amateur and elite runners for over 18 years. “We also tend not to notice if we’re going too hard, or maybe even not hard enough sometimes, because we’re aiming for a number rather than actually listening to our bodies and adjusting accordingly.”
My workout on tap is 1 x 1600 meters in 6 minutes and 10 seconds, followed by 8 x 200 meters progressing from 40 seconds down to 37. I line up and wait for the cue to begin from my husband-slash-timekeeper. Toeing the line, it’s as if I’m transported back 15 years, about to fly through watchless reps with my high school teammates. Yet, running solo without a watch is quite different than running with a cohort chasing similar goals. Alas, I’ll have to lead this workout alone. I take off and tell myself to tap into the feeling of a six-minute mile.
My laps are a bit inconsistent, but thanks to the 400-meter splits called out as I cross the line, my timing is pretty spot-on and I finish in 6:07. But the 1600 isn’t the part of the workout I’m nervous about. Two hundred meters is half a lap on the track, short enough that one should probably not have to check their watch while running. But over the many years of solo track workouts, I’ve gotten into the habit of checking my 100-meter split, thus relying too much on my watch, rather than how my body feels, as a measure of success. I run either 37 seconds or 38 seconds for all eight 200m reps, which irritates me. I could’ve used that 100-meter smartwatch check-in to nail the precise cutdown Fraioli prescribed. (As Coach pointed out before, runners are known for their type-A tendencies.) I know I should pull back just a hair, but instead allow this workout to be a sign that I’m fitter than we suspected.
In an effort to turn the frustration of imperfectly measured reps into fun—and put my original hypothesis about finding freedom from technology to the test—I lean into the watch-free zone and let loose on the last one. Racing my husband to the line, I find myself grinning like a kid sprinting across the playground. The time couldn’t have mattered less, though I’m comforted to learn it’s by far my quickest rep.
Technological Time Travel: Taking the Timex
These days, it seems a GPS running watch can offer you the world on your wrist. Beyond the basics of pace and heart rate, it can tell you the estimated power of your stride, lead you back to your starting point if you get turned around, and even sync tunes to play through your Bluetooth headphones. But it can as easily become another distraction. In an effort to minimize screen time while still tracking the essentials of duration or splits, the Timex Ironman 30-Lap has been my go-to running watch for minimizing screen time while still tracking the essentials, like durations and splits. It doesn’t have any “smart” features—no GPS, thus no ability to calculate pace, no pulse oximeter and no notifications or reminders. It’s a bread-and-butter selection for when you want to disconnect while ensuring you still get in your minutes or return home by a certain time. The digital watch features a 100-hour time recorder with 30-lap memory, is water resistant to 100 meters if you decide to take a dip post run, and even offers alarm and time-zone functions. At $60, it’s a relatively small investment in getting a step closer to freedom of your own.
Finding My “Why”
A watch is a tool, and like any tool, it should be used towards a goal set by its user. The original wristwatch was designed as a fashion accessory for women. It was only when pocket watches became inconvenient for men on the battlefield that wristwatches became utilized for precise timing. The watch has continued to evolve, now giving us extremely precise data. And for many of us, strapping a top-of-the-line gadget on our wrist and pushing start signifies a transition from running for fun to putting in work.
What about the majority of us, who don’t run professionally? How do we know where to draw the line between unlocking our joy and discovering our potential? Fraioli cautions, “When running ceases to become fun, or starts to feel like a job, that’s usually a sign that we need to step back, stop quantifying the experience and refocus on what it is we enjoy about running in the first place.” At the end of the day, our outlook is what determines how we process the copious amounts of data our smartwatches offer to us, for better or sometimes for worse.
Running is as often a mental exercise as it is a physical one, requiring us to dig a bit deeper to understand how our mindset affects how we feel in our bodies. While my experience running without a smartwatch allowed me both a sense of freedom and an ability to tap into unlocked potential, it wasn’t simply relinquishing my device that got me here. Through ongoing conversations with my coach and a good deal of self-reflection, I will continue to explore the reasons I get out the door.
So, before you completely ditch your watch, try to better understand your “why.” While you may still decide to adorn yourself with the latest technology in search of a personal record, you could also find that a simple Timex or a bare wrist will serve you just as well in pursuit of a genuinely personal best.