I guess my downward
spiral to addiction started like everyone else’s. Innocently curious. I
didn’t think it would happen to me. I looked on in pity – and almost
distaste – at those dependent. Those modern-day junkies. How it
controlled their every step. Ravaged their minds. I didn’t even want to
do it. The peer pressure just got too much. They made it sound so
fun and glamorous. “All the cool kids are doing it”: They said. I thought
I would just try it. Dabble a bit. Recreationally, I suppose. I even
did it privately, so no one could see what I was doing. But,
before long, it quickly enveloped my life and now I have to admit I have an
addiction. It started with the soft drugs, like Garmin Connect. Just
monitoring miles and occasional checking previously results for progress.
But now I’m an A-Class user. I’m addicted to Strava.
For
those of you who have not been drawn to the dark side, Strava was founded by
Michael Gainey in 2009 and allows members around the world to track their runs
and rides via mobile and GPS. Strava -
from the Swedish verb “to strive” – has been dubbed social fitness, as you can
connect and compete with other athletes. I’m not so sure about the
“camaraderie” it claims to evoke, but it dishes out gallons of motivation. There’s nowhere to hide or slightly
exaggerate the pace, time, elevation or mileage. Let’s be honest, we’ve all done it. It’s black
and white and totally transparent.
You’re forced to “prove it”.
Sounds
a bit OCD, right? Well, don’t judge me until you’ve tried it. I’m not a
speedster and I don’t obsess over stats, but it sucks you in with its special
little community feel and its nice Americanised dialogue that makes you feel so
warm and fuzzy inside.
If someone follows you, the message is “Whoa,
you're kind of a big deal. Mr/Ms ABC is now following you on Strava. Let's show him what you can do. Go get 'em”. Of course, evoking said camaraderie? Not likely.
You receive kudos –
which is similar to a Facebook “like”, but so much more – from your
followers. Kudos is my new favourite
thing. Strava sends the admiration with a “great job out there…keep it
up”. A big thumbs up from your running
companions – and competitors! – what’s not to love about it? Like a needy child
seeking approval and praise, I thrive on those digital pats on the back.
The leaderboards open
up a whole new level of a competition. And obsession. As well as potential overtraining
and injuries. Each club you join has its
own leaderboard, ranking athletes by mileage, time and climb. As an
ultra-runner, a distance board is like porn, but even I look at some people’s
training and think WTF? Why? Not you,
Paul. You need to up your game. I do have a bit of friendly rivalry with
mileage with my Centurion team mate, Paul, but that’s healthy. Unfortunately I will always win on the time
spent running leader board - and that’s not a good thing. Sonic won’t admit it, but he’s also thrown
down the mileage gauntlet. Either that
or he doesn’t like hanging out with me.
The key ingredient
in the fanatical cocktail that is Strava are the segments. The mini courses with invisible timing mats
that turn easy runs into eyeballs out.
Each segments has its own course records (CR) and a leaderboard. And if you don’t make the record, you’ve got
personal bests to beat. So even if
you’re not competing at the sharp end, every run is a race against yourself. I find myself uploading to Strava before I’ve
taken my shoes off to see if you’ve added to my virtual trophy case.
When I’m in segment
territory, there no messing about. One
morning I was jogging to work and wanted to have a crack at the “Great Western ShortRun”. I stopped at the lights and
removed my jacket. OK, I was already a
little warm. Then absolutely whored it
along the road…only to get to the end and realise I hadn’t started my GPS. Ahhh!
I had a concealed meltdown on the pavement, which may have looked like
some kind of fit. I’ve still not got
close to the CR.
Last week, I was
running through Glasgow’s west end when an elderly lady fell on the road. The knock-on
effect of an impatient twat who honked his horn, she panicked, tripped and
split her eye open. The wee soul was 96-years-old
and weighed less than a small child. Of
course I stopped to help and used my snotty hankies to hold the wound. After the ambulance appeared and she was in
the capable hands of the paramedics, I pushed on and restarted my Garmin. First thing was: “Feck, I was so on a PB on
that segment”. It crosses over three
sets of traffic lights. To have the
lights in my favour during rush hour was a massive thing. Too much?
You’re probably right. I mean, who
creates a segment that goes across three main roads in a city anyway?
I’ll admit that Strava
does make me act in inappropriate ways and do things that may some a little
crackers to the naked eye. Maybe it’s
the universal code for an endurance athlete’s apology. One morning, The GM and I were prancing about
on the Kilpatrick Hills, when a biker passed us. He ignored our friendly greetings and
continued on - hanging over the handlebars, panting and on the cusp of
combustion. How rude? As he reached the
brow of the hill he about turned and meandered down in a calmer manner. As he passed again, he smiled, rolled his
eyes and muttered: “Strava”. We
understood and all was forgiven.
I’m not so
forgiving when I receive the dreaded email with “Uh oh! Someone’s stole your CR”.
That’s never a good start to the
day. Frantically checking to see if said
thief did it on a bike and loaded it as a run. And if they did, I jump on that “flag” button
like a possessed vigilante protecting the food soldiers from those pesky two-wheeled
villains.
Like all records
though, they’re there to be broken. You
win some and you loss some, right? Wrong, you just set up your own
segments. I’ve set up a few on my usual
runs, under the pretence that I’ll use them to gauge where I’m at. We all know
it’s just feeding the addiction though.
It may be cheating a bit. But it really does unearth the real cheats. There’s a segment which I often frequent on my Monday lunch run, which has a local lady sitting in pole position with her run titled “Matt’s Half Marathon PB”. Yes, she wasn’t even wearing the GPS at the time.
It's game over if I've forgotten my watch, or worse it's out of battery. I mean, why even bother? I went out for my first speed session 10 days after the Lakeland 100. Stupid, I know. But I was gutted my watch ran out half way into the session. Granted, I wasn't exactly pulling up the trees, but how was I supposed to brag about my superhuman recovery? (Said with tongue firmly in cheek) Manual entries just don't cut it. You can't "prove it". While we're at it, neither does anything that's not running or biking. Especially skipping. I've seen it, no joke.
The best are those
who leave on their app or GPS in the car.
Check out this chap. He’s got the
CR on one of my local segments – courtesy of a 400+ mile “morning run” that covers
the length of Britain! The face has been covered to protect the not so innocent.
Love it or loathe
it, there’s no doubt that Strava provides masses of motivation. People try harder when they’re being
watched. It’s called social facilitation. How many times have you upped the pace or perfected your form
when you see another runner approaching? Well, Strava does that digitally and
relentlessly.
Although it is comical that everyone seems to do easy/steady/recovery runs, even though they probably vomited at the end.
Earlier this year,
I was toying with the idea of a coach.
Something to stop me plodding about aimlessly or focus on quality rather
than quantity. Now I’ve got my spark
back. I may end up on the scrapheap, but at least
there will be fire in my belly. Just
give me kudos when I bow out.