The running world can be a wild place. One minute, you're celebrating a hard-earned finish, and the next, someone online is telling you it doesn't really count.
"That PR doesn’t matter—it was a downhill course." "Oh, you walked? That’s not real running." "Revel races shouldn’t qualify for Boston."
Sound familiar? If you've been in this space long enough, you’ve heard the chorus. And maybe, like me, you’ve started wondering: Where is this energy coming from?
Let’s talk about it. Because it’s not just about pace, courses, or race strategy. At the heart of these comments is something deeper: ego. And just as importantly, a lack of empathy.
Ego shows up when someone feels their achievement is diminished by someone else's success. It's not just pride—it’s insecurity wrapped in superiority. Ego says: If you didn't suffer the way I did, your win doesn't count.
But empathy? Empathy would pause before jumping to judgment. Empathy understands that different paths can still lead to the same finish line. That a course can be downhill and still demand grit. That a walk break doesn’t erase the effort. That someone’s personal best doesn’t have to fit neatly into your own belief system for it to matter.
Ego without empathy is what turns a sport into a hierarchy. It’s how we get gatekeeping. It’s how the same people who shout about physics and purity are the ones who shrink the sport into something only a select few get to feel proud of.
And let’s be honest: gatekeeping shows up most loudly when women, especially women coaches, speak with authority. I’ve seen it. I’ve lived it. You push back, and suddenly your credentials are questioned, your tone is policed, your name appears in quotes.
This isn’t just about race courses—it’s about who gets to define what "real" running is. And more often than not, it’s folks with the loudest egos and the smallest capacity for empathy.
Running isn’t a zero-sum game. Someone else's success doesn't take anything away from yours. And the more we make space for different kinds of runners, different goals, different victories—the stronger our community becomes.
So let’s be better. Let’s question the systems that tell us there's only one right way to earn pride. Let’s notice when elitism starts creeping into our language. And let’s choose connection over correction.
Because when we lead with empathy, the gates don’t just stay open—they disappear.
I'd love to hear from you: have you experienced elitism in the running world? How have you navigated it, and what do you wish more people understood?