Thanks to social media, running has become more popular and accessible than ever before. Advice spreads easily, communities are formed, the jokey accounts give you a good laugh. Online discourse on the acceptability of wearing running vests (to carry items like gels, water and phones) regardless of distance or pace has exposed elitism in the running world and made it much more inclusive.
But with the social mediatisation of running have come the pitfalls of ads and paid partnerships from so-called runfluencers, which take away the simplicity and authenticity of running. By nature these give the impression that you need to buy more stuff to be a true runner, which is not at all the case.
It has led to the rise in popularity of run clubs, which, far from a ragged mix of people of all ages bonding over vomit-inducing intervals on the cinder track, seem to consist of perfectly-ponytailed sporty girls and godlike guys hitting on each other over high-knees and shiny coffee and pastries in the new gentrified café in Heaton afterwards. Whilst there’s nothing wrong social running, nor a post-run sweet treat, these clubs feel intimidating and more about appearance than substance. The joke goes that people are swapping dating apps for running clubs. But what if I’m here for fartlek, not flirting?
The pitfalls of ads and paid partnerships take away the simplicity and authenticity of running.
If you didn’t know any better, Instagram would have you believe aesthetics were central to being a runner. Posts upon posts of lululemon fit checks, flawless make-up and cool 0.5x selfies in running shades fill your feed. This can motivate you to get out the door, because everything’s more fun when you look and feel good. But it can also exclude you if you don’t look or feel the part.
Of course, runfluencer accounts only show the good parts: the pbs, fast workouts, flattering videos. As with all social media, they are highly curated and can lead to demoralising comparison. It isn’t just their runs, but their whole lifestyle that appears perfect: colour-popping smoothies, perfect porridge, seamless stretching, springing along pavements with glowing sunset views.
In reality, running is not always like this. Sometimes you scoff down a banana before dawn and sprint out the door without stretching only to be laid low with a stitch at mile five. Sometimes the gels leak all over your mouth and nose and hands à la candyfloss and you spend the rest of the run desperate to just wash your damn hands. Sometimes you have an ideal route in your head, you planned every stretch with care and can’t wait to head out, but you find your legs so heavy after 2km that it has to be relegated to an easy run. Sometimes your thighs have rubbed raw and your toe is suspiciously bloody, your nose is snot-crusted and your old race t-shirt is salty from sweat. Sometimes you’re so bored and music can’t solve it and counting the number of runners you see can’t solve it so you just have to suck it up and keep going.
Running is the joy going further and faster than you thought you could; running is the quiet satisfaction of having ran at all. Running is pure joy.
All this is to say that running is not aesthetic. You shouldn’t do it because you think you’ll look cool doing it. You should do it because it opens up a whole world inside of you. Running is soaring over pavements and asphalt and trails, running is fireworks of endorphins, running is flying. Running is being blown away by a whirlwind of shops and trees and buildings on a new route, running is the warmth and comfort of moving through the place you call home. Running is the joy going further and faster than you thought you could; running is the quiet satisfaction of having ran at all. Running is pure joy.
The runfluencer accounts don’t express this at all. I beg you to run and see for yourself.
Recommended reading: Philly Bowden’s and Allie Ostrander’s Instagram accounts.