Why I’m Proud to Be an Average Runner
The Joy of Being Just Okay
We're Not Kilian
Unless you're setting course records like Courtney Dauwalter or your last name is Jornet, you're probably just like me: a regular person who loves running but won't be remembered in the history books of this sport.
And you know what? That's fantastic.
Nobody Cares
When I show up to a race, nobody's making predictions about my finish. There's no pressure to hit a certain time or place, not even in my age group. If I have a terrible day, no sponsors or fans are disappointed. If I skip a race entirely, the running world keeps spinning.
This might sound depressing, but it's actually liberating. I can race however I want, whenever I want, without anyone's expectations weighing me down.
Free To Fall Apart
Being average means I can fail as badly as I want, and nobody notices. I can blow up 10 miles into a marathon and spend the rest of the day walking and eating whatever food they're handing out at aid stations. I can DNF because my stomach feels weird, or because I'm just not feeling it that day.
Nobody's analyzing my training on Strava. My tempo pace might be someone else's easy run, or vice versa, and it doesn't matter to anyone.
Meaningless Metrics Club
Sure, I have an ITRA score and a UTMB index, along with all those other metrics that runners obsess over. However, they affect my real life about as much as knowing my sleep score when I wake up feeling rested.
The same goes for all these running rankings and points systems. They're interesting data points, maybe good for a quick ego boost or reality check, but they don't change how my legs feel hitting the ground or whether I'm enjoying myself out there.
Running However I Want
I can sign up for races on a whim. I might decide to try a track meet just to see what it feels like to be in pain for 10 minutes instead of four hours. I can wear whatever gear I find interesting, eat unusual combinations of food during long runs, and quit a race if I find myself on the most beautiful mountain ridge at dawn.
Every mistake becomes a funny story. Every weird experiment teaches me something. And there's always another race or adventure next month to try again.
Graceful Decay
My body isn't what it used to be. Things hurt more, recovery takes longer, and my PRs are probably behind me. But here's the thing: Nobody cares about my decline except me. I'm not disappointing a sponsor or letting down fans. I can slow down gracefully, and when I do have a surprisingly good day, it feels like a bonus instead of meeting expectations.
Ghosting the Sport
If I get injured, I rest until I'm better. If I'm burned out on training, I take time off. If I don't feel like racing for six months, I don't race. No explanations needed, no comebacks to announce on social media.
And when I'm ready to get back out there, the trails are still there. My running friends are still weird and wonderful. Nothing has changed, and everything is exactly as it should be.
Fierce Mediocrity
Let me be clear about something: Being an average runner doesn't mean I'm not ambitious. I am fiercely ambitious. I set goals that scare me. I consistently stick to my training plans. I wake up early for workouts and push through when my legs feel heavy.
When race day comes, I give everything I have. I fight for every second, dig deep when it hurts, and then deeper. I race like my life depends on it. I want to reach my goals just as badly as anyone else. I dream about breakthrough performances and train hard to make them happen.
But here's the thing: No matter how hard I train or how perfectly I execute my race, I'll still be just "some runner" finishing "some race" in "some time." Even my best performances will be thoroughly average in the grand scheme of the sport.
This apparent contradiction is truly wonderful.
Why Average is Actually Amazing
In a world that's obsessed with being the best, fastest, or strongest, I've found something better: The simple pleasure of showing up and doing something I love without needing to prove anything to anyone.
I run because it makes me feel good. I race because it's fun to challenge myself. I fail because that's part of trying. I succeed because I keep showing up.
Being an average runner means I get to focus on what actually matters: The feeling of moving through the world under my own power, the friends I've made along the way, the beautiful places I've seen, and the quiet satisfaction of doing something difficult just because I can.
That's not average at all. That's everything.
Everything Not Running
A few words about the Willpower Athletes, because we had a heartbreaking new addition this week (welcome, David!).
When I founded Willpower, ambassador programs were all the rage in the running scene. Virtually every brand was trying to copy the Asics Frontrunners. They were an army of good-looking runners with impressive social media followings who were willing to do almost anything for free stuff.
With Willpower, I didn't want to go down that path, even if this type of marketing seemed to pay off. Why? Read this.
Yet shortly after Willpower was founded, a group of runners who felt strongly connected to the brand and its values gathered around it and took on the name “Willpower Athletes.”
They wore the shirts around the world, gave me feedback on new products, registered for races under the team name “Willpower,” and told everyone who (didn't) ask about this cool new brand. What's the difference between this and an ambassador program? They were (and still are) all my closest friends.
Over the years, this group grew organically, albeit slowly. There are and have been many requests to join the Willpower Athletes. I often receive emails from runners listing their PBs and telling me which races they have already participated in. However, these have never been the criteria for Willpower Athletes. Nor is the number of followers someone has on Instagram or Strava. Strictly speaking, it's not even about being a runner (sad running gag: half of the Willpower Athletes are injured anyway). It's about friendship. You can't apply for friendship. It either happens or it doesn't. When it does, though, it lasts.
In any case, I'm glad the Willpower Athletes exist, and I'm even more glad that we are friends.
On Repeat
Dragged Under is one of the few newer punk bands that reminds me of my good old days. I grew up with melodic American punk rock and experienced its big commercial explosion in the early 1990s with bands like Offspring, Green Day, NOFX, Pennywise, and Rancid in the US, as well as Millencolin, No Fun At All, and Satanic Surfers in Europe.
As with almost all trends, it all petered out eventually. The bands sounded more and more arbitrary, and at some point, there were just too many of them. I lost interest and preferred listening to "Unknown Road" and "Stranger Than Fiction" for the 40,000th time rather than checking out new bands.
Every now and then, however, a band would come along and breathe new life into the style of that era. One example is Dragged Under from Seattle. They are super fresh, super lively, and super melodic. They have lots of modern influences that make them sound completely unique. Their debut album, “The World Is in Your Way”, in particular, is bursting with enthusiasm and energy.
"Hey Chelsea" is probably the band's best-known song and is definitely one of their greatest.
As a funny side note, this kind of DIY tour video was popular for a while because bands couldn't afford professional music videos. I think I shot at least 20 of these with my bands and posted them online. They've got charm!
"Every mistake becomes a funny story. Every weird experiment teaches me something." - Oooof - this resonates such much. It feels like such an important part of the journey that is "running"! Thanks for sharing,
Isn't Showing Up what counts at the end? It is everywhere even when you are amongst the 1% doing a specific thing, you want to be amongst the 0.1% but only a handful of people can be and we need to understand and I am also in the process to understand this thing fully.