I quit

Strava. I quit Strava. Jeez, dramatic, I know, but I have to grab your attention somehow.

For those of you who have resisted the sudden boom of runners on social media, Strava is an app that tracks your runs, including the route, mile times, and duration. Seems harmless enough, right? WRONG! 

When I started running back in April, it was just me, an Apple Watch, and the trainer I listened to. I was running intervals of walking/running, and even just breaking a sweat was a success in my mind. I was taking my progress slowly, following the Couch to 5k plan. I listened to a podcast by a British guy who talked the listener through each run with fun anecdotes and words of encouragement. I was just happy with each step on the sidewalk.

As my endurance improved, the distance I ran increased. One warm spring Saturday, Camille and I went on a run at Sloan’s Lake. Afterward, she said she’d tag me in Strava, which I didn’t have at the time, but that afternoon, I downloaded it. This was around the time I started running 1-2 miles non-stop, so it felt like the natural next step. Initially, I thoroughly enjoyed it. I was adding people from high school, friends in Colorado, and running influencers I liked. I enjoyed tracking my runs, seeing them all accumulate on the calendar, and feeling a sense of accomplishment. I loved seeing my miles get shorter, the distances I was running get longer, and physically capturing the progress I was making. 

I would get back to my apartment from a run, sweating, out of breath, and red-faced. I would immediately stop the tracking and log my run in Strava. Standing with shaky legs, I'd add a cute caption, include some photos I’d taken on the run, and even take a selfie or two. Hitting post, I’d get kudos on the uploads from some of my connections and feel a sense of pride. I’d scroll through my home page and send kudos to my connections. Woo-hoo! I was officially part of the running community! 

Then I started, as I often do, to compare myself to them. It didn’t matter if it was an old friend who had been running their whole life, a running influencer whose job is to post on Strava, or even people in my everyday circle. I would see their mile times, sometimes significantly faster than mine with their caption: Today’s run sucked, slow miles! There would be a damn awkward silence between me and the phone. If I had run some of these “slow” mile times, I’d probably have a stroke at 24. Every run became this weird addiction, competing with others on an app. When I’d see my run did better than somebody else’s, oh my god, I acted like I’d won a gold medal. When I’d finish a run and the mile was slower than usual (god forbid you run slower in 100-degree heat), I’d mentally beat myself up. 

This morning, I decided not to track my run and just go with the flow of my body. Run as far as I felt good, run as fast as I could tolerate, and enjoy my audiobook. A few times, my mind would wander from the mystery novel in my headphones (None of This is True by Lisa Jewell)(3/5)(would not recommend) and think about just how good it felt. It felt like when I started running, not worrying about anyone else but me, putting one foot in front of the other. I wouldn’t use this run to compete or scroll through to see if I was better than everyone else for running on a holiday. It’s all just some serious bullshit. If you're someone who enjoys using comparisons to push yourself, by all means, get this app. I’m not one to yuck another’s yum. However, this dish serves me a sour main course with a side of gloom. 

Even though the Apple Watch I use is an old hand-me-down and doesn’t track accurately, it’s all I need. I need to know relatively how far I’ve gone and make sure my heart rate doesn’t send me to an urgent care. I can honestly say that I’m more excited to go on runs now because, full-heartedly, I’ll be doing it for myself and only myself. I used to say I was going on this journey to better myself, while secretly scrolling through Strava and becoming bitter about not being able to run a half-marathon. I can’t say the running is for me, and then try to make the perfect post at 7:30 am in the summer sun, sweat dripping off my nose, and my heart rate at maximum capacity, all while still standing on the sidewalk. Just take off the headphones, listen to the morning doves, stretch out the hamstrings, say hi to dog walkers that pass by, and go upstairs. Finish the run like god intended and stop letting an app control me. 

P.S. Camille, don’t beat yourself up over introducing me to Strava. I would have gotten to it eventually, and you happen to have an extremely sensitive friend. xoxo