Running with others is great. Motivational. Social. Inspiring, even.
But also… exhausting.
Sometimes, you don’t want chat. You don’t want pace negotiations. You don’t want to pretend you’re not dying while your overly peppy friend explains their new protein regime in graphic detail.
Sometimes, you just want to leg it, alone, unbothered, mildly antisocial, and loving it.
Here’s why solo runs are not just valid, but deeply, spiritually satisfying. The natural yin to someone else's sweaty, talkative yang.
1. You Set the Pace (Even If That Pace Is “Walking a Bit”)
When you run alone, nobody cares if you slow down. Or stop. Or have a small existential breakdown at the top of the hill.
There’s no pressure to match anyone’s stride, no accidental tempo pace because they “just feel good today,” and no pretending your lungs aren’t on fire when you're actually dying inside.
You go your pace. You stop when you like. You run your run, not theirs.
It’s your kingdom of effort. You’re the queen. Or king. Or weird, sweaty court jester. Whatever works.
2. No One Talks to You
This is underrated. There’s a certain joy in leaving the house knowing that no one is going to tell you about their work problems, their cat’s medical history, or what they’re doing for “recovery” this week (spoiler: it’s yoga and smugness).
You can go full introvert mode. No eye contact. No words. Just you, your thoughts, and possibly the internal scream of your calves during hill reps.
Want to run in silence? Do it. Want to listen to a podcast about 18th century murders while climbing a hill in the rain? Nobody’s stopping you.
3. The Route Is Yours
Run through a field. Down an alley. Up the same road three times because you’re weirdly into loops.
No debates about which way to go. No compromising with someone who “doesn’t like trails”. You can turn around halfway through, run to a petrol station for a Lucozade, or finish outside a chipper and no one will ask questions.
The freedom is intoxicating. Especially when you’re prone to last minute route changes based on vibes, weather, or the sudden realisation you can’t be arsed.
4. It’s Basically Free Therapy
Running alone is where the good overthinking happens. Your brain unpacks things while your legs do their job. Arguments get rehearsed. Life plans get made. Petty grudges resurface for no reason.
You’ll solve problems. You’ll relive cringey moments from five years ago. You’ll have full blown imaginary conversations with people you’ve ghosted. It’s glorious.
Also, there’s something oddly powerful about shouting “COME ON” at yourself in the middle of nowhere with no one watching. Try it. You’ll feel insane. But better.
5. You Can Be as Weird as You Want
Sing along to your music. Pull faces mid sprint. Practise your sprint finish down a residential street like you’ve just won Dublin Marathon. Who’s judging? No one. Because you’re alone. And it’s brilliant.
Eat jelly babies with no explanation. Wear mismatched gear. Take mid run selfies and pretend they’re candid. Stop and stretch in ways that would get you banned from a yoga class.
Solo runs are pure, unfiltered you. Glorious, sweaty, slightly unhinged you.
Final Word
Running alone isn’t antisocial, it’s liberating. It’s where the madness bubbles up, the thoughts get untangled, and the pace finally matches your mood instead of someone else’s ego.
Yes, a running buddy can keep you accountable. But running solo? That’s where you find the weird magic. The kind that says I don’t need to be fast, or chatty, or presentable. I just need to run.
And if you end up talking to yourself halfway through? That’s between you and your imaginary therapist.