Open a run. Below the map, the green speed curve now carries amber bands: those are your stops. And as you move the cursor across it, the line underneath starts with the time it was.

Why you could not see them

They were already there. They were simply invisible, for a purely geometric reason: the bottom axis is distance, and a stopped team covers none of it.

Take the real run that prompted this work: 20.47 km, two stops — seven minutes to water the dogs, half an hour to fix a tyre. On the distance axis, that half hour occupies a hundred and sixty metres. Less than one percent of the chart's width. A pencil stroke.

And that stroke was exactly as thick as a thirty-second stop's.

What changes

A band's width now comes from its duration. A long stop is a wide band; a short one stays a discreet mark. The band widens with duration, and it is capped: even an hour-long stop will not bury your curve, because the chart's subject is still your speed. That cap is not decoration — without it, a long pause would cover kilometres where nothing of the sort happened.

The pieces of one stop are now one stop. Stop detection sometimes chops a single pause into dozens of fragments — thirty-seven, on our half-hour tyre repair. Drawn as they are, that is an unreadable hatched zone. Two fragments less than fifty metres apart are now a single stop on screen.

Hovering tells the time. The readout line said "3.5 km · 132 m · 18.5 km/h". It now begins with "10:12". That is what was missing to connect what you see to what you remember: the tyre stop, that was around ten past ten.

The stops list too, and an admission

Below the chart, the stops list merges the same way. It used to show one line per fragment — on the run used as an example here, forty-seven lines, most of them three seconds long. It now shows six, and the total is unchanged: merging does not make time spent stopped disappear.

And the admission, because it is better said than discovered: until today, those stops did not appear at all for most of you. Stop times are recorded on your phone's clock, and the page that places them was computed on a server set to a different one. The check meant to guarantee an honest placement therefore refused to place — silently, folding the stops into a list with no kilometre. That was the case for everyone outside the Greenwich timezone, since August. It is fixed.

What it does not do — and this is not "not yet"

It changes nothing about what is recorded. Merging fragments is a drawing rule, and it lives on screen only. Your runs keep their stops exactly as they were measured, one by one. Export your kennel and you will find every one of them.

The axis is still distance. This is not a time chart, and it will not become one here. A band's position still says where you stopped; its width, and only its width, says for how long. The two are not read on the same ruler, and it is better to know that than to guess it.

It does not fix stop detection. That is a neighbouring job, and a separate one. There are still cases where a real stop is only partly recognised — typically when the GPS receiver flickers a residual speed while the team is not moving at all. If a band looks shorter than your memory of it, the drawing is not lying: what was recognised is.

It exposes nothing new. Your stops were already shown, in the thin strip under the curve, and visible to the same people as before. Nothing becomes public because it is drawn better.

Two decisions taken against the obvious

A band no longer measures the stop's distance exactly. The obvious said otherwise, and that was the original choice: a band as wide as the distance covered, so near zero when standing still — "and that is the information", the note said. True, and unusable: that information is invisible. We preferred a band that tells the truth about time over one rigorously exact about a distance that is zero. The boundaries themselves stay honest: what changed is the minimum painted, not the place.

The time is always shown on a 24-hour clock. A training log is kept that way. Letting the reader's machine decide would have given some people "10:12 AM" — and made the whole thing untestable along the way.

One detail for the record-keepers: the time shown is in your own timezone, computed from the exact instant you pressed START. On older runs, recorded before that instant was kept, the cursor shows elapsed time since the start — "+1:15" — rather than staying silent.