Chad asks a question: “Brolympus, what’s the deal with runners who, according to Strava, run over 40,000 meters in elevation gain in just over two weeks? I’m not sure how many Mt. Everests that is, but I’ll bet it’s a lot. Are these runners actually mountain goats or bighorn sheep with GPS devices attached to their little hooves?”
40,000 meters! That sure sounds like a lot! But remember that it is in metric, so no one really knows how high it is. I’m pretty sure it’s at least 500 feet, though. That’s taller than the Empire State Building! How do these people do it? I bet some of them live in the Empire State Building and just leave their GPSs on when they are in the elevator. If someone has months or weeks when they only climb, say, 500 meters, and then all the sudden they enter the Strava Climbing Challenge and rack up 40,000 meters, you might think they are cheating, but they probably just moved into the Empire State Building. The folks you really need to be suspicious of are the ones who live in the mountains, log crazy hilly miles every day, and pepper their feeds with pictures of spectacular mountain vistas. There’s got to be some funny business going on there!
Chad asks an important question: “Brolympus, what is the protocol for ‘liking’ others’ workouts on Strava? Should I only like the workouts of runners I know? Do I really have to review their workouts to ensure they merit a like? Or, should I just like any and every workout just because it’s the easiest thing to do?”
I’m not sure what you are implying here. Are you really suggesting that each and every kudo I get for a workout is not a heartfelt expression of admiration for my badassery? Kudos are the lifeblood of runners; they are what keep runners going, what motivate them to get out of bed each morning and strap their shoes on, day in and day out, in what would otherwise be a thankless journey of pain and exhaustion. Surely you don’t mean to imply that a kudo given is simply an absent click on a phone.
Implicit in every kudo you give is that you gave that workout nearly as much effort in consideration as the runner did in performing it. You must pore over every split, deliberate whether the cadence was adequate, ponder the mysteries of heart rate and VO2max. BLEED over your kudos, much like the runner bled during her run. Only then should you give a kudo.
Also every run that gets less than 10 kudos is a failure. The more the better!
Chad asks a question that has perplexed serious runners for generations: “After a workout, do I check in to Strava or Facebook first?” I’ve seen some tough questions in my day, but it doesn’t get any headier than this one. You might as well ask why the Sun rises in the West and sets in the East (or is it the other way around?). One is yin, the other is yang. One is carbs, the other is protein. One is Taco Bell, the other is Chipotle. They are both essential. So how to proceed? And whither Instagram, wherefore Pinterest? What does the fox say? Your run didn’t happen if it’s not on Strava, but your non-running friends might not find out about it if it’s not on Facebook.
After your run, dripping with sweat, you pull your phone from its protective ziploc, struggling to log in while the phone nearly slides through your slickened fingertips. Do you press the “Strava” button or the “Facebook” icon? Do you selfie before or after posting? Here lies the answer. Strava allows you to add the selfie after you post the run, but Facebook requires the photo in order to make it a part of the post. The proper sequence is this: Strava, Selfie, Facebook. Always.