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The culture of running today – from the clubs to the fitness apps – has finally merged inclusivity and competition in a way that resonates with our psychology like never before.KYLIE COOPER/The New York Times News Service

I’ve been a runner for more than 15 years, and for much of that time, it wasn’t trendy at all. Now, I almost feel like an original Star Wars fan – my nerdish hobby has become a global phenomenon.

To some extent, I predicted running would take off after pandemic closures forced people out of gyms. But I never expected that lockdowns would spawn the biggest running boom in history: Subscriptions to the fitness app Strava are through the roof. The London, Chicago and New York marathons all broke attendance records in 2024. Tinder has even co-hosted run clubs for singles.

Why does seemingly everyone want to run?

I am convinced that it’s about more than running’s cheap and accessible nature; it’s because the culture of running today – from the clubs to the fitness apps – has finally merged inclusivity and competition in a way that resonates with our psychology like never before.

Here is what I mean. The recent history of running is an ideological pendulum. The 1970s saw a huge road running boom, concentrated in the United States and personified by skinny, mustachioed white men in short shorts.

Running was somewhat exclusive: Women were barely allowed to run marathons and major events were designed for serious runners only, with minimal medical aid stations – which meant no run-walking marathons, slow jogging for charity or – obviously – influencing one’s way into a free race entry. Some old-timers will lament the bygone simplicity of the era, but it kept way too many people out of the sport.

Then came the pendulum’s counter-swing in the early 21st century, bolstered by the coming of age of millennials who valued participation over winning. Led by a generation of people who grew up winning medals for just about anything, millennials de-emphasized competition in sport as a whole, which led to the rise of non-competitive fitness classes like Zumba, no-score soccer games and “colour runs,” events that made a point to not time their participants and instead douse them with coloured powder just for fun.

All of this led to the average finish times in traditional road races slowing down by tens of minutes throughout the 2010s.

The movement away from fast running was not all bad: It paved the way for the realization that a highly competitive environment might be intimidating to people who aren’t interested in racing times, potentially pushing them out. But ultimately, registration numbers for races in the 2010s went into freefall. It turned out this inclusion model didn’t do so well for retention.

But recently, the pendulum found its way back toward the middle. Today, people are giving up the colour runs for traditional ones, and are racing more than in previous years. Marathons have become so popular since the pandemic that the World Marathon Majors has added a new race to its circuit for the first time in 12 years, and people are running so much faster worldwide that the Boston Marathon sped up its qualifying times by several minutes.

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Marathons have become so popular since the pandemic that the World Marathon Majors has added a new race to its circuit for the first time in 12 years.PETER CZIBORRA/Reuters

So what happened? More people than ever – of all backgrounds and speeds – felt welcomed into the sport through the 2010s, and gradually became enthralled enough with its competitive nature to stick around.

Part of the recent appeal is technological. The last few years saw the rise of carbon-plated running shoes, which drastically improving race times, smart watches that provide every statistic imaginable and the gradual transformation of Strava into a social-media platform.

You’ll also find more targeted tech toward beginners in particular. Chase the Pace events, timed 5K races on the track with hundreds of participants running behind pacers at multiple speeds, are booming in popularity. And this year, the shoe company On released a racing shoe for beginners, with all the bounciness of an elite racing shoe, but with support to correct the common inefficiencies of a newbie.

All of this ignites a desire that is deeply human: to compete with others and, more importantly, with ourselves.

That said, trying to square the comfort of inclusivity with the thrill of competition can be challenging. Take what’s happening at Parkrun: a U.K.-based racing circuit that hosts free 5K community events around the world. Last year, they took down the course records page from their website in the spirit of reducing emphasis on results and to create a more “inclusive” environment.

The deletion upset its user base and more than 26,000 people signed a petition to bring back the stats. In February of this year, the company announced it will once again post them.

Striving for both inclusivity and competition may be uncomfortable but finding a good middle is worth the fight.

Clubs that champion competition over everything are excluding the majority of runners and often descend into hostile hellscapes. Clubs that champion inclusivity at the expense of challenging oneself are disrespecting and patronizing their members.

What’s the lesson here? It’s a myth that most runners do not care to get faster. It’s an even more damaging myth that we should exclude the competitive spirit from our athletic pursuits. Running has stayed popular because it encourages people to seek better of themselves.

And across speeds, ages and identity groups, that deeply resonates.

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