Product Review: Milestone Pod

I am why I can’t have nice things and other thoughts from briefly operating a Milestone Pod.

It doesn’t matter what it is, if it has a seal or a tab or zipper, I will open it.  This generally applies to food products since I exist in a state of perpetual snackishness, though it does not often discriminate (with the possible exception of mail and/or gifts that are not expressly addressed to me.) I open boxes of cereal I don’t intend to eat, simply because they are closed (my subconscious is somehow be offended by this?) remote controls, machinery, and usually anything that has a compartment.

This quirky character flaw is on overdrive the day Milestone Pod arrives in my mailbox. In moments,  my compulsive opening skills are extracting the device from its packaging, and after a bit of struggle, I find the method to open its battery compartment. This part was a little tricky, but my brain had already spun itself up on stubbornness and would not be troubled to read instructions – I open things like it’s my JOB Milestone Pod! You will not beat me!

Momentarily, I have succeeded in opening the quarter-sized gadget to reveal the battery chamber, and the satisfaction is real. I slip in the watch battery and, after a few tries, replace the housing.  A green light blips on and I let out some sort of gleeful squawk. I am also, yes, easily entertained.

I download the app to my phone (this time I have resigned myself to reading instructions, as it is not tremendously clear what it is I should do after green light appears.) The download is quick, the interface clean, and I am eager to take it on its maiden voyage. Looping the rubber case through my shoelaces, I then pop the pod into its snug little rubber cradle and turn on my phone’s Bluetooth syncing to start my run.

This is the last thought I give to the new little running gadget, and I am out the door. About ¾ mile out, I pause to look down at my shoe.  I had noticed neither presence nor absence of the pod on my shoe at all since I set out, but in a glance I know it’s missing.  The rubber portion is there, flopping about without the machinery it is meant to keep safe. My heart sinks, and I start searching the ground behind me without luck.  I haven’t gone far, I reason, and turn around to recover territory previously trod where the abandoned pod must have come loose.

Don’t worry! I convince myself as footsteps lead into themselves, eyes frantically scanning the ground, It’s got to be around here somewhere, you can just pick up where you left off once you find it.  In a few more paces, I do find it.  My feet stop cold in the middle of a cross street.  My heart sinks even lower as I assess the almost unrecognizable bits of it strewn over the street.  I identify the battery, still in tact, and try to collect the larger pieces, my head knowing it’s no good while my heart is rejecting the reality in front of me.

I think I laugh to myself at the disappointing luck of it, stooping there in the early morning in the intersection of quiet neighborhood street, which has now become the final resting place of the pod. There is almost no traffic, let alone this early, evidenced by my lingering in the intersection, scooting blue and grey pieces of milestone pod around on the asphalt like I’m willing them to spontaneously reconfigure. They do not.  I manage to convince myself to keep running, mind and body’s commitment to the endeavor sorely compromised.

For the brief time I spent with it, I liked this product tremendously. Not only did it satisfy my urge to open things, it simply and easily tracked the miles to my shoes – solving a problem I’d been neither motivated, nor apparently capable, of solving without it.

You were a courageous co-pilot, Milestone Pod, even if our time together was regrettably short and almost (but not even really close to) humorously tragic.


  •   User-friendly (both the hardware and the app)
  •   Simple design (ditto)
  •   Simple, efficient method to track mileage on a pair of shoes
  •   It looks pretty cool (trust me on this)


  • Inadvertent operator error, leading to untimely demise of product followed by extreme guilt and shame

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