Last Christmas I got a GPS running watch. It could do it all: measure heart rate, pace, average speed, cumulative distance ... quite impressive. So impressive it sat in the box three months before I had the nerve to read the instructions.

No, it wasn't because the user manual was thicker than a Brides magazine in June (but close). And no, it wasn't because I possess the technological dexterity of a paper clip (although I do). It collected dust for 41 runs because I was scared. Scared of what I might learn from it: that I'm not as fast as I used to be.

Since high school, I had guesstimated my running distances using pace as a guide. This method proved fairly accurate as measured by my car odometer - for runs that paralleled roads. Unfortunately, the baseline I used was set 25 years ago.

What my mind (but not body) had forgotten is that while a certain pace feels the same as it did two decades ago, it may not actually be the same. Moreover, I was miles removed from the mapped courses of my youth, and now ran on bucolic (but not easily-measured) bike paths. Was I really running as far and as fast as I thought?

Eventually the guilt of having an unused high-tech gadget got to me, especially since it was a gift. I also grew tired of friends and family asking about the watch, only to hear me invent different reasons why it still sat in the box - "Oh, I don't monitor my training during the winter" ...

"The satellites are down till the summer solstice" ... "I've given up running." Each excuse was lamer than the one before.

It got to a point I was risking receiving any future running-related gifts from relatives. I had to act. So I pulled the watch and GPS unit out of the box and read the manual, read the manual, then then read the manual again.

The more I read, the more excited I got. Split times, tempo training, max heart-rate monitoring were now all within my grasp. My fear of learning something about my training gave way to the potential of learning something about my training.

Giddily I strapped on the device for its maiden voyage, and waited as the watch and petite-sized GPS unit snugly strapped to an elastic belt around my waist synced with the satellite orbiting somewhere above my West Bloomfield, Mich. home. With the blinking green light from the unit signaling all was a-go, I strode off, eagerly eyeing the watch's face, nearly tripping as I drifted off the sidewalk onto the lawn.

The watch's face counted up and down and around a variety of numbers - I felt like NASA ground control. For the next 35 minutes the nearly-instantaneous pace calculation settled on a range of numbers, sometimes excitingly-familiar numbers; sometimes sadly strange ones. In the end I learned one thing, the thing I feared: I am slower than I used to be.

The good news is now I can easily call on this cool new toy to provide precise pace, speed and distance - all the things a serious runner needs to know. And for that reason, sometimes I leave it home. MR