The internets obsession with run clubs is ruining running

My wife and I ran a half-marathon in Brooklyn a couple of weeks ago. If you're a runner, it was us, along with probably half your timeline.

Carl Radke from Bravo's Summer House? Check. Sen. Chuck Schumer, for whatever reason? Check. White House stenographer and running influencer Kate Mackz? Check (and more on her later). This isn't entirely surprising, considering some 25,000 people showed up to jog 13.1 miles that Sunday. But it's a symptom of a bigger, more annoying problem.

Run clubs, running influencers, #RunTok, and the concept of running as a trend have gone too far. It's making running less enjoyable.

Am I an old man yelling at a cloud? No! I am an old man yelling at a group of 40 jabronis, dressed in sleek, moisture-wicking, wildly expensive gear. I'm yelling at that very same group, rumbling down the narrow Williamsburg bridge path, three-wide, impossibly jolly, barreling through the solitary walkers and joggers.

If you think I'm exaggerating, I'm not. These were the exact conditions of the training runs my wife and I took. No fewer than a half-dozen times were we entirely overwhelmed — like a picnic inundated with fit, person-sized gnats — by oversized run clubs. And if you think I'm airing a local, personal grievance in a national publication, well, you're only half correct. Because it is a personal grievance that ultimately gets at a wider trend.

First of all, I'm not the only one complaining about the overbearing NYC run clubs. A thread blew up on Reddit eight months ago debating the subject. And it's not just NYC. It's a hotly debated issue on runner forums, all over social media, in Australia, and pretty much everywhere, to some degree.

Now, to be clear, I love that people are running. I have been a runner my entire life. Not to brag (but to brag), I've done three marathons and ran a backyard half for Mashable during the COVID lockdown. My day doesn't feel complete without a jog, and it's cool that more people agree nowadays. What started for lots of people as a COVID-friendly hobby has become a wildly popular means for socializing. RunSignUp had 7.4 million race registrations in 2019. By 2024, that figure was 10.8 million. RunTok has racked up more than a billion views and attracted major brands like Nike and Brooks.

Run clubs themselves are not even the problem, not really. Neither is #RunTok nor running influencers. It's the confluence of those things that's turning running into a trend rather than a fun activity. It's the internet's obsession with too much of a good thing. It's the same disease that turns every Internet Thing into something with a massive, mobbed-out line. A 40-minute wait for a viral croissant is equivalent to the 40-person blob of runners swallowing the sidewalk.

It's great that people are turning to running, so much so that it's been called the "new group chat." It's awesome to see people hang out IRL while getting in a nice sweat. But a group chat with 40-some people is just as overbearing as a run club that size. We, as runners, have to practice etiquette.

My proposal? Ten people. A group of runners has no reason to be more than 10 people. That gives you plenty of runners to chat with and enough bodies to claim some space from cars and cyclists (don’t even get me started on car culture). But it limits your group so it's not hogging the street, sidewalk, or bike path. If your run club has more than 10 people show up that day? Sick! I'm so glad you're building a community. Split that community up into groups of 10, each running a different route. You can all end at the same park and chat after your respective jogs.

While I complain, it's also important to note that run clubs have become, in a good way, about much more than running. Some have morphed into matchmaking groups. Lots of run clubs, like Philly's Slow Girl Run Club, have made it a point to welcome in all kinds of folks and make the hobby more approachable. It's genuinely wonderful that you could meet your partner, find friends, get acclimated to a city, or build community via running.

But we should also be wary of anyone commoditizing running, which can include run clubs or the bandleaders therein. One of the things that makes running so beautiful is that anyone can do it. Sure, you can spend thousands of dollars on the latest shoes, gear, and gadgets. And you can also throw on a pair of sweats and hit the pavement. There is no entry fee for running. You don't need anyone to tell you how to do it; it's already coded within your DNA. And you certainly don't need an influencer like Mackz, a Brooklynite who'd lean on her audience's morals for views.

But I'd argue Mackz was already a symbol of where running went wrong before, you know, cheerfully selling out to the Trump administration by interviewing its press secretary while pretending to have the critical thinking skills of a goldfish. What started as a harmless schtick — she interviews people while running — quickly became a vehicle for celebrity worship and naked shilling. Her whole brand became using the trend of running to sell you on celebs Being Normal. The fun of RunTok, of runners finding community, is stripped for parts and presented for sale.

Sorry, but that sucks. And no, that doesn't directly relate to the hordes of runners in run clubs. But it's of the same ecosystem. To paraphrase reality TV, it's not running for the right reasons. Run clubs are great until you're doing a run club because doing a run club is what everyone's doing. Because here's a little secret: Jogging in a group of 40-some people cannot be fun for the runners. If you've ever done a race, you know this. The start of any running race is cramped and miserable. You jostle to find open paths and fret about turning an ankle. You're constantly either passing or getting passed. Packing a large group of runners onto the sidewalk, which, mind you, is still occupied by walkers, dogs, kids, and other runners, is basically recreating those circumstances.

Running should be meditative, and fun, and difficult, and hard on your knees, and rewarding, and the last thing you want to do after a long day, and the thing you're glad you did once you've done it. Running has been around since...well...since human beings have been around. We don't need to reinvent jogging — it doesn't need to be a trend or more than it is.

Running is putting one foot in front of the other and repeating for an indeterminate amount of time and distance. That's beautiful. It's between you and the ground and gravity, and it does not require dozens of comrades to bear witness.