Why do We Run?

A lot of pondering and not a lot of firm answers...just like life

Recently, I went on a silly adventure run with two good friends. Brendan, from the 12 Hours of Drinking Horse day, and Wyatt. Wyatt and I met briefly at the local running store and reconnected through Substack. His posts helped me see that we shared a lot of similar ideas around running and he would be a great pacer for me at Cocodona. Boy, was I right! Wyatt is a 10/10 pacer and he got me through some incredibly tough moments. There is something about enduring together that cements deep friendships.

We wanted a long, fun run. We had a few options in mind, but early June in Montana meant we were more limited in available (non-snow covered) terrain to explore. We settled on a loop-y out and back over Mt. Ellis, as the wildflowers on the peak are always popping off this time of year. The route didn’t totally connect, but how bad could 1/2 mile of off trail be? (spoiler: not too bad! A pleasant surprise.) We were in for a day of ridge running, route finding, bushwhacking, and general shenanigans. With these two at my side, anything we came upon would be a blast.

The experience of this day is tricky to put into words. The flow state of deep conversation and moving through nature together is one of the many reasons I love running. Our conversation focused on just that: Why do we run? How do we show up in our runs? How do we share routes safely, explaining the risks in certain terrain, or keep some routes private to avoid more foot traffic in an ecosystem without being gatekeepers?

More questions than answers followed.

Does running have to be competitive? Does all training have to lead to a race? Does every long run need to become about chasing crowns or Fastest Known Times? Is there any space for validation around just running because we like to run?

How do we get (or do we need) validation for simply exploring nature on our own two feet? Does going out for a 7 hour, 24 mile day not matter because we aren’t chasing a specific goal? Does the sport of running only take seriously athletes who place well at premiere races, or clock impressive times, or set world records? What about runners who run a few times a week, but never lace up for a 5k? Are they not “runners” ?

Where is the value in just having fun, seeing what our bodies our capable of?

All 3 of us see tremendous value in running for running’s sake. But we struggled with the catch-22, capitalistic nature of it all. How do we share routes, or get big adventure days to be taken seriously without turning them into reels (or substack posts!)

How do we square the fact that we all want validation for doing hard stuff, when that validation often feels hollow? Does sharing the experience cheapen it?

But then back to—how do we get others excited about exploring trails with no real purpose? Or share new routes and loops we’ve created? Must we become influencers? Is constantly videoing us meandering through meadows and peeking over cliffs the only way to share our experience with the wider world? (I suppose yes, in practicality)

(pic, so you know it happened)

The athletes people follow (or sponsor) are generally training for a premiere event, be it a well known race or a competitive FKT. Which, let me state here, there is nothing wrong with either. Being competitive can be fun! Winning races feels awesome! But.. does this make our long adventure days less valuable because they are seen less?

Or us “lesser” athletes?

Wyatt is a phenomenal athlete. I thought Brendan was good at descending? Wyatt turned into a mountain goat before our eyes and skipped down the extremely steep and loose terrain before us. (I’ve renamed this type of running “not my favorite” to stop myself calling it “utterly terrifying” and hopefully, this helps me improve at it.) Brendan, a great runner in his own right, would follow down easily. I would take a deep breath and do my best to jog downwards at a slightly faster pace than walking.

So clearly, we are all good runners. And we all like to compete—I was competing to keep up with them! Which led us to share our struggles with getting wrapped up in competition.

How do we keep ourselves from getting overly competitive, putting too much pressure on ourselves, and losing out on the fun of running? How do we keep this feeling alive in the middle of an event?

Because we were having a blast! We were moving quickly? Not really. Did we care? Not one bit.

I love runs like these. Where it’s not about pace. Where we stop to examine mushrooms and pat moss or see if we can find double or triple Glacier Lily’s (they exist!) Where we talk deeply about what brought us out to the trails and if what we are doing has any value if it’s not valued by “others”.

For me, the answer is yes. I shared that taking up running helped me let go of a destructive eating habit, and that keeping up running has allowed me to process some tough times in my life. But I also relayed in the past few years running has begun to shift from a thing I enjoy doing,“I wonder how far I can actually run at one time?” to a thing I chase “How well can I place at this race?”

As I’ve stated: I’m working diligently on refocusing my thoughts and my goals towards, “I am out here to have fun and celebrate running. If I get a good result or a nice time, what a sweet bonus!” Otherwise, it’s already a win.

Having my goal for Cocodona be: I want to see what I am capable of made me RUN from Trinity Heights to the finish. Old Allison might have thought It doesn’t matter. I’m gonna finish and I’m hot and I’m tired and my feet hurt and no one is close to passing me and I’m not gonna break top 10 women and it doesn’t matter anymore because I didn’t hit my time goal and ok let’s just walk it in.” New (renewed?) Allison thought "I am still capable of hitting my goal. Am I gonna be proud of my effort if I just walk it in? No. Can I jog? Yes. I should be jogging. What am I capable of when I have nothing left? Let’s jog. Let’s run.”

The sharp end is getting sharper. I’m less likely to podium at races. Big course records are not in my grasp. Does it matter? If I give up racing or chasing FKTs am I still a runner?

Of course. Runners run. Whether it’s 1 day a week or 6 (please, take a rest day!) You are a runner. Whether you run in a local 5k and hit a sub 50 min PR or set a new course records in a 100 mile race, you are a runner.

There is tremendous value in running for runnings sake. There is validation in the ephemeral adventure runs with friends. Whether or not we have money and brands and social media followers to “prove it”, there is meaning in what we are doing.

Running is essential.

Brendan pointed out that it sometimes feels selfish to take the time to run, but if doesn’t run, he’s cranky. I like to say “It’s the microcosm of the macrocosm.” If going on a run makes you feel good and helps you show up in the world as a happier or better person, that isn’t selfish. That’s the currently popular “self care.”

This post is both a bit ramble-y and preachy. But that is a how our conversation went—circles around how to rectify our personal want for validation and our desire to just run and let that be enough. (Is it enough? Can we find a way to let it be enough?) How do you get credit for running a difficult route if you also don’t want to put it on FKT or Strava or Instagram? You don’t. Does that mean it doesn’t matter?

Adventure running. Running without a finish line, a time to beat, or a segment to PR. How do we share the value in this? Where do we get our validation from?

Ultimately, it must come from within ourselves. We must do it because we love it and makes us better people. We can share that in our writing, our photos, or silly Strava titles. In a world built on the social currency of being trendy, popular, or getting lots of “likes” on post—which I am definitely guilty of checking on sometimes!—it’s nice to remember there are other forms of currency. Friends. Sunlight. Laughter.

(adventure day!)

There is some hypocrisy inherent in this post. I want to share and have people see the value I gained from this time spent with friends. To have others see and recognize that wandering around in the mountains for hours is a completely valid and wonderful way to run. I feel that way, but knowing others agree makes it feel a little sweeter.

So…it’s tough. Why do we run? Would I still run if I didn’t have Strava? Yes. I didn’t have it when I started running. And now that I know what running can add to my life, I wouldn’t stop doing it simply because no one was giving me kudos.

Perhaps this is one of the biggest lessons running can teach us: Hard work has value because we feel it in ourselves. In the sore muscles and tired feet. We know we did something amazing for our bodies. Whether or not the clock, the algorithm, or the larger community sees it, we know it’s true. We are runners. And we are incredible.

What do you think? Why do you run? Where do you get your validation? Comment below, let’s keep this conversation going! I’d love to hear your thoughts :D