
I can tell exactly how unhinged you are as a runner in about 10 seconds.
Not your pace. Not your gear and def not how you’re breathing during easy or hard runs.
I can tell from Your Strava profile.
Specifically — whether you have one. And if you do, what you’ve done to it. Because what you’ve done to it tells me everything.
There are five types of Strava users. Each one a little more unhinged than the last. And you probably can’t tell which one you are anymore.


The last sane person in the room.
This person runs. Goes home. Eats something. Lives their life. Absolutely , blissfully at peace.
They don’t log it. Don’t title it. Don’t check who else ran the same stretch of road this morning. They just ran. Now they’re done. They feel good about it.
There is a 50% chance they don’t even have a smart watch but if they do, they hit start, stop, see the time and distance and keep going on with their day.
We should be studying these people like endangered wildlife. David Attenborough narrating over them making breakfast after a 60 min run, completely unbothered. “And here, remarkably, the runner does not open an app.”
Someone mentioned Strava at a race once. This person said “oh is that the app where people get mad about hills?” — smiled politely and went back to eating their banana. No follow up questions. No download. Just a banana and a normal Saturday.
The transition moment to level 2? Someone sends them a Strava link to a new longrun route they’ve never done. They click it. They see the “create an account” button. They create the account… and…
Four minutes later they’re on Strava. That was the last time they ate after a run without checking if someone they’ve never met ran the same route faster. Congrats. Welcome to the illness.

Every single activity is called “Morning Run.”
Not “Morning Run — felt strong.” Not “Easy 8 with bad decisions.” It’s just like… Morning Run. Every time like a government form.
Maybe six followers. Three are people they ran in a race group for a local half marathon (who they don’t know) and one is their partner who made an account once and never opened it again.
Someone commented a lightning bolt on their Tuesday run and they genuinely didn’t know what it meant. They thought it was an ad. They kept scrolling. This person is fine. This person is going to be okay.
They’re technically on Strava the same way people are technically in a fantasy football league they joined in 2019 and have never once checked. The account exists. Nobody is home.
The transition moment they title a run with something throwaway like “legs felt okay today.” Three times the kudos they’ve ever gotten. Someone comments “great effort!”
Science moment – Brain imaging research actually shows this is a legit thing called social validation. It fires the same reward circuitry as something that is genuinely good happening to you. Crazy thing is that your nervous system can’t tell the difference. Three kudos on a Tuesday jog and something in your brain quietly goes yes.
And this is where things get interesting. And by interesting I mean kinda concerning.

Now we’re a “real” Strava user.
Every run has a title and instead of putting the info in the description they character load the title.
Vo2uesday 12×400 @current fitness ft. humidity.”
“Easy recovery run that was neither easy nor recovery.”
“Off road Sunday runday Longy trying to stay in high zone 1 low zone 2 and walked the hills .”
These aren’t run titles. These are journal entries. This person is processing their situationship, their achilles, and their general dissatisfaction with Tuesday through the Strava activity feed. And honestly? It’s working for them. Cheaper than therapy, better cardio than therapy and you get fewer side effects than therapy. For real for real, this is the healthiest coping mechanism in this whole post.
They’ve explained what a segment is to a non-runner friend and how you can virtually compete with people asynchronously on their fav routes.
The friend nodded. Said “oh that’s cool.” Has thought about it zero times since. This is what a healthy relationship with running looks like from the outside. Study it.
But this person is still having fun and Still loves running. The app is enhancing the experience, not replacing it. They’re competing against themselves. Watching the trend line go the right direction.
This is the sweet spot.
And before you start optimizing anything else, here’s how to use Strava in a way that actually makes you faster.
“The healthiest runners aren’t the most obsessed. They’re the most consistent.”
Achievement psychology research is very clear here because people who chase their own past performance improve more consistently than people chasing others. The leaderboard isn’t just distracting it’s actually pointing you at the wrong target.
Runners who get faster year over year aren’t checking who’s above them on the segment. They’re checking whether they’re better than they were 90 days ago. That’s the whole game.
Here something for you to do right now:
Go to your profile, hit training log, pick a month from 90 days ago and look at it. That’s your competition. Not the person who stole your segment… you.
Use Strava like a logbook and not a scoreboard.
Stay at level 3. And I know that’s not satisfying if you’re already level 4 or 5 — but that’s also exactly why you’re level 4 or 5.
“Levels four and five are just elaborate ways of burning out while feeling productive, not actually getting better at running.”

At level 4 you’re now paying for strava Premium, 30 Min Post-Run Analysis
Eighty dollars a year — Gone.
Not for coaching. Not for a training plan. For the ability to stare at a fitness and freshness graph after a Tuesday easy run and feel productive.
Your relative effort aka Suffer score (shouts to the old school strava users that remember this) says 78. They screenshot it. Send it to someone. That someone does not care. This level 4 person cares way too much.
Relative effort said “hard” after a workout they already knew was hard because they were there for it. But seeing it confirmed by the app and now Strava Ai… Validated.
Told their partner. Partner said “mmm” without looking up from their phone. This was the correct response.
They love looking at their Weekly training , fitness freshness and form chart going back 2 years. Can’t explain what it means in practical terms. But they Find it deeply comforting to look at. Like a lava lamp but for anxiety.
And then — unironically, without a trace of self-awareness — they’ve pulled up their smart watch vo2 max estimate and compared it to Kipchoge. They did not find this discouraging. They found it motivating. That’s the part that should concern all of us.
Kipchoge’s VO2 max was measured in a lab. By scientists. After years of being one of the greatest runners in human history. Yours was estimated by a wristband using your heart rate (optical watch based which is notoriously inaccurate), and during a jog where you definitely stopped at a few red lights. These are not the same test. And yet.
If you’re level 4 please instate this five minute rule. Five minutes post-run, check what you want, then close the app. You’re done. Go eat something and do some down regulation breathing or something.
And then one Tuesday, a notification. Someone ran their segment. Faster by four seconds. Someone they don’t know, someone who probably doesn’t even know the segment exists. And that’s it. That’s the whole origin story for a Level 5 Strava User.

These people actually scare me and I know two of them personally.
Not because they’re fast. Because of the justification. The straight-faced, totally reasonable-sounding justification for completely unhinged behavior.
“I just want to see what I’m capable of on that segment.” Bruh… You drove 20 minutes to a parking lot at 5:30am on a day off. We are well past capability testing.
They have a ranked list of local KOMs sorted by how stealable they are. Number of attempts, recent activity, margin to beat. This is not a metaphor. I have met this person. I have seen the spreadsheet and I swear it had conditional formatting.
They rest for three days — no running, early bedtimes, optimized nutrition — for a 400 meter (.25 mile) hill that 14 people have ever run. Three did it by accident because Strava detected their commute. This person does not care a crown is the crown.
These people are not training. They’re in a territorial dispute with strangers who don’t know they’re in a dispute.
I will never be level 5. I’m saying that on camera because I genuinely need the accountability. These people got there one completely reasonable decision at a time and that’s the scariest part.
So what level should you actually be?
Stay at level 3.
Whatever you do today has to leave enough in the tank for tomorrow, next week, the month after. The runners who keep improving aren’t the ones who went deepest into the data or hunted the most segments. They’re the ones who kept showing up. Consistently. For a long time. Level 3 lets you do that. Levels 4 and 5 are just elaborate ways of burning out while feeling productive.
Use the app. Enjoy the app. Title your runs something weird or quirky or whatever, check your segments, compete with yourself from 90 days ago. That’s the healthy move.
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