To keep this space safe for real athletes (and not bots with bad intentions), checkout now requires an account login. It’s quick, free, and helps keep your data secure.
To keep this space safe for real athletes (and not bots with bad intentions), checkout now requires an account login. It’s quick, free, and helps keep your data secure.
Cart 0

The Cost of Cheap Training: Where the App vs Coach Narrative Falls Apart

accessible run training adaptive running apps vs coaches cost of running injuries generalized running plans injured runners training plans injury prevention for runners prehab for runners run training for masters runners Runna app injuries running apps vs coaches running without a coach strength training for runners tendon rehab running

A systems-aware look at apps, coaching, and injury prevention

There’s a familiar storyline floating around running spaces lately, and once you notice it, it’s hard to unsee.

Running apps are more accessible.
Coaches are expensive.
Most people can’t afford coaches.
Therefore, apps are the equitable solution.

It sounds compassionate. It sounds systems-aware. It sounds like advocacy.

It’s also wildly incomplete.

Not because accessibility doesn’t matter. It absolutely does. But because this version of the argument treats access like a single checkbox instead of a layered, messy reality. And in doing so, it quietly shifts risk onto the very runners it claims to support.

This framing shows up a lot in conversations around apps like Runna, which are often positioned as the reasonable, inclusive alternative to coaching.

So let’s slow this down and actually look at where this narrative falls short.

Affordability Is Not the Same Thing as Access

Yes, cost matters. Money is a barrier. Full stop.

But access isn’t just the price you pay to get started. It’s whether a training approach still works when life inevitably shows up uninvited. It’s whether the plan adapts to aging tissue, hormonal shifts, past injuries, inconsistent sleep, stress, grief, underfueling, or the fact that bodies don’t behave like spreadsheets.

Apps assume a lot.

They assume you have a smartphone and reliable data.
They assume baseline health literacy.
They assume your body responds predictably to load.
They assume you can self-assess pain versus discomfort without panic or denial.
They assume you know how to adjust when something feels off.

Those assumptions aren’t neutral. They’re design choices.

Calling something “more accessible” without naming those assumptions just narrows the definition of access until it fits the argument.

Blaming the Healthcare System Doesn’t Remove Training Responsibility

A common response to injury concerns is that the real issue isn’t apps or coaches, it’s lack of access to healthcare and physical therapy.

That part is true. The healthcare system is a massive barrier, especially for underrepresented communities where preventative care, follow-up, and being taken seriously are never guaranteed.

But here’s where the logic quietly collapses.

If access to PT is limited or prohibitively expensive, front-end training decisions matter more, not less.

When the safety net is thin, the margin for error shrinks. The cost of a misstep increases. Generalized programming stops being “good enough” and starts being a gamble.

The runners least able to afford PT are often the same ones least served by one-size-fits-all training. Pretending those things aren’t connected is optimistic at best.

Coaches Aren’t the Villain in This Story

Is “just hire a coach” a lazy answer sometimes? Yes. No argument there.

But jumping from “coaching costs money” to “coaching is elitist” erases a huge part of the landscape. Many coaches already work to reduce barriers through group coaching, sliding scales, lower-touch plans, one-time consults, and free education.

That’s not elitism. That’s harm reduction.

These options exist because not everyone has access to PT, sports medicine, or an ideal recovery environment. They help runners adjust earlier, recognize warning signs sooner, and avoid the familiar cycle of ignoring issues until they explode.

Flattening all coaches into a single inaccessible category doesn’t make running more inclusive. It just makes the narrative simpler.

Apps Aren’t Evil, They’re Just Not Magic

This isn’t an app versus coach manifesto.

Apps can absolutely be useful tools for some runners, at some stages, for some goals. Structure has value. Guidance matters.

The problem is when apps are framed as inherently equitable while the risks they offload onto the user go unexamined.

When injuries happen, the app doesn’t absorb the cost.
The runner does.

Financially. Physically. Emotionally.

PT appointments they can’t afford. Time off work they can’t take. Confidence that doesn’t come back easily. A body that no longer feels trustworthy.

If we’re serious about accessibility, those downstream costs have to be part of the conversation.

Lived Experience Changes How You Define “Access”

As someone who is Indigenous and underrepresented in multiple ways, I don’t get to think about access in abstract terms. I’ve seen what happens when healthcare is delayed, dismissed, or unavailable. I’ve lived in the gap between “this would be ideal” and “this is what’s actually possible.”

That perspective changes the math.

Accessibility isn’t just about what someone can afford this month. It’s about what helps them stay healthy, supported, and moving long enough to matter.

So What Does a Better Conversation Look Like?

Not coach versus app.
Not moral superiority disguised as equity.
Not flattening complexity so it fits in a caption.

A better conversation asks better questions.

Who is this accessible for?
Who absorbs the risk when things go wrong?
What support exists before injury, not just after?
What assumptions are baked into the solution?

Because equity deserves more than a cheaper subscription and a good marketing story.

It deserves nuance, honesty, and solutions that don’t quietly hand the bill to the runner when the system inevitably fails them.

If You’ve Been Burned by One-Size-Fits-All Training, Start Here

If you landed here because a generalized plan left you injured, frustrated, or questioning your body, you’re not broken. You were under-supported.

Not everyone needs full one-on-one coaching, and not everyone can afford it. That doesn’t mean your only option is to keep rolling the dice with generic programming.

There are cost-effective ways to add context, reduce risk, and rebuild confidence.

Here are lower-barrier options I use as harm reduction for runners coming off app-based injuries:

Speed Play
A flexible run training plan that teaches effort awareness and adaptability instead of blind compliance. Especially helpful if you’ve been stuck in the “just follow the plan harder” loop.

Superset Strength
Runner-specific strength training focused on durability, tissue tolerance, and real-world carryover. Not influencer lifts. Not random circuits. Just smart, progressive work that supports your running.

Mini Tendon Guides (Prehab + Rehab)
Short, targeted guides to help you understand what’s happening when tendons get cranky and how to load them appropriately instead of panicking or resting forever.

These options aren’t a replacement for healthcare, and they’re not a substitute for individualized coaching when that level of support is needed. They’re a way to reduce risk, build awareness, and stay in the sport when access to higher-level care isn’t guaranteed.

And when you’re ready for deeper support, coaching becomes a next step, not a moral obligation.

Because accessibility isn’t about choosing the cheapest option.
It’s about choosing something that won’t quietly cost you more later.


Older Post Newer Post


Leave a comment