Why Do You Run?

At first glance? To pay for college.

But if that were the only reason, I would’ve quit a long time ago.

“Running sucks. It’s hard. It’s not enjoyable. Why would you willingly put yourself through that?”

I get that question all the time. And honestly, I get it. Running is not always comfortable. Sometimes it’s cold. Sometimes it gives you mushy socks. Sometimes it feels like your lungs and legs are on fire—just which one hurts most is the question of the day.

There’s no instant gratification—no scrolling, no autoplay, no algorithm feeding you what you want to see. It’s just you, your legs, and the endless stretch of road ahead.

But maybe that’s exactly why I love it.

Connection Without Interruption

Think about it—when was the last time you went three waking hours without checking your phone?

Really think about it. No notifications. No scrolling. No checking to see if someone liked your post or responded to your message.

It’s probably been a long time.

I won’t dive into the million psychological reasons why I’m “anti-phone” (we’d be here all day…if you know me, you know I can’t have a conversation without getting into dopamine 😉), but I will say this: the greatest thing about running is that you literally cannot run while staring at a screen.

You have to be present. Fully. Completely. And in a world where our attention is constantly being hijacked, that is rare.

Running forces connection.

I get to talk to people I’d never normally sit down with. Just last semester, I ran 75 minutes with someone I’d barely talked to beforehand—someone I probably wouldn’t have had a one-on-one conversation with otherwise. And it’s not just casual banter. Some of my deepest and most fruitful conversations have happened mid-run, when the miles strip away the small talk and leave behind something real. And what’s real is a newfound friendship. That 75 minute run fostered one of my greatest friendships today. 

And even if we had just sat down to talk instead of running, would the conversation have been the same? Probably not. At some point, someone’s phone would have buzzed. A ding. Just a quick glance, but a subconscious signal: you’re just not that important right now.

But on a run?

No distractions. No quick dopamine hits pulling us away from the moment. Just the rhythm of our breath, the sound of our footsteps, and whatever conversation we choose to fill the space with.

And something about running—maybe it’s the shared physical discomfort, the lack of eye contact, the sheer amount of time spent together, or some combination thereof—makes people open up in ways they never would otherwise.

Why Running Creates Real Conversations

It’s science.

1. Shared suffering builds bonds. Ever done hard quarter mile repeats with a friend? By the end, you’re both gasping, legs filled with lactic acid, fighting to stay upright. And according to Steve Magness—world-renowned exercise physiologist, Nike performance expert, and Rice alum (hoot-em, baby!)—that kind of shared suffering is a psychological shortcut to forming deep connections. You don’t just run next to each other; you struggle next to each other. And struggle has a way of breaking down walls, and building up connections. By the last rep, we weren’t talking—we were just gasping, hands on our knees, the only sound between us our ragged breaths. And yet, in that silence, something had shifted. A bond made not with words, but with burning lungs and legs that refused to quit.
2. No eye contact = more honesty. When you’re running, you’re not staring someone in the face. You’re looking at the road ahead, at the horizon, at anything but them. And weirdly, that makes people more willing to be vulnerable. It’s why deep conversations happen on long drives—staring at the blur of cars and the open road instead of each other. Running is the same way.
3. You run out of small talk. After 30 minutes, you’ve covered the basics—what classes you’re taking, what you did last weekend, how the body feels. After an hour? You have two choices: sit in silence or go deep. And silence on a long run is awkward AF, so you open up real quick.

But the best part?—by the time you’re an hour in, you’re too tired to filter yourself. You don’t have the energy to put up a front. You just talk. Honestly. Unfiltered. And that’s where the real connections happen. That’s why I believe my best friends are on the team. I’ve formed the strongest connections with them through deep long run talks where we just open up, and unbreakable bonds over our shared brutal workouts on the track. 

Learning From People Without Living Their Lives

Something I really value is learning from others—especially at a place like Rice, where people come from all over the world, each carrying perspectives shaped by experiences I’ll never have.

Talking to people gives you a shortcut to wisdom. Instead of living 5 million different lives to gain 5 million perspectives, you just listen. You absorb. You take in their 22 years of experiences in an hour-long run.

And sure, you can learn from others by just talking. You don’t have to run with them.

But let’s be real—how often do you pour your heart out to a stranger?

And when would someone actually listen?

How often do you, unprompted, share your past, your failures, your lessons learned, just because?

Probably not often.

But while running, it happens all the time.

It’s like magic.

The Real Reason I Run

Yes, I run for my scholarship. Yes, I run to compete. Yes, I run because, for some reason, I love the suffering.

But more than that, I run because it has the power to change you.

I run for the memories—the unbearable heat, the bone-chilling cold, the endless downpours, the mounting exhaustion, the triumphant wins, the crushing failures, and every moment in between.

I run for the people.

For the stories.

For the moments of honesty you can’t get in a world filled with distractions.

Running has taken everything from me and given me more in return.

And I wouldn’t have it any other way.