I DIDN’T start running because I wanted to. I started because someone asked me if I do distance runs. Someone special. And I said no, straight up. My knees are weak. I can’t even run a kilometer without feeling like I’m about to collapse. Plus, I was in Manila at the time. (Saan naman ako tatakbo rito?) The streets were loud, the air was heavy, and the idea of running felt really far from romantic.
But that question stuck with me. He asked me late 2023. By January 2024, I was lacing up my shoes. I told myself it was going to suck – and it did. That first run humbled me real quick. I was out of breath, legs aching, ego bruised. But I showed up again. And again. And again.
Now? I can run 21 kilometers. A half-marathon. From struggling to run 3k without stopping to this? Wild. All it took was one step. One moment of just trying, even if I wasn’t sure why.
The process was brutal. Still is. But somewhere along the miles, I met a new version of myself. One that keeps going even when things hurt – on the road and in life. That version didn’t show up in a single run. She built herself through every early morning, every sore muscle, every bad day I still showed up anyway.
And I’m not alone.
When life gets loud, we run
It’s 5 AM in the city. Still dark. Most people are asleep or about to clock in for another draining day. But a quiet revolution is happening. People are running. In parks, around ovals, on cracked sidewalks and skyways. Some in full gear, others in oversized shirts and old rubber shoes. Headphones in. Eyes steady. Chests rising and falling in rhythm with their breath.
Running has become a language – a form of expression. A way to say, I’m tired but I’m trying. A way to scream without making noise. It’s no longer just a workout. It’s an escape. A therapy. A rebellion against burnout, heartbreak, deadlines, dead-ends. And it’s not just fitness junkies doing it. It’s students, moms, office workers, freelancers, titos and titas. Even kids.
Filipinos are running. Some to feel something. Others to feel nothing. Either way, we run.
Take Pam, 23, a distance runner based in Camarines Sur, for instance. What began as a spontaneous decision to break in a new pair of shoes eventually unlocked a whole new lifestyle.
“May sapatos ka na. E di ipangtakbo mo na,” she recalled. From jogs after work to signing up for races and even landing on fifth place on a race, she found herself hooked. “Para akong naka-unlock ng new way of achieving the self-love that I’ve been trying to figure out for years.”
A teacher by profession, Pam finds herself bringing her passion for running into the classroom, too. “Sobrang OA na kasi pati examples ko sa klase tungkol sa running na,” she admitted, laughing. “My health improved and started normalizing. Pati mental health ko, kasi ayun. It quiets my mind,” she added.
Jorland, 22, a distance runner based in Metro Manila, had his own turning point. “I started running last July 2024. Nung una, I did it solely to spend more time na kasama siya, but eventually, I liked how it helped me lose weight and relieve my stress.”
He began his journey weighing 84kg, a drastic change from his 55kg weight the year before. The shock led him to take action – running regularly and staying on a calorie deficit. By December, he dropped down to 56kg.
It wasn’t easy. There were months he had to pause his routine due to academic pressure. But running, for him, became more than a tool for weight loss.
Eventually, what began with someone else transformed into something far more personal. “Running now holds deeper meaning. It became a journey of self-love and physical improvement,” he said.
Clout kicked it off, but clarity kept us going
Let’s be honest, some of us joined the bandwagon. We saw runners glowing on TikTok, posting sunrises and medal selfies and gear hauls. We got curious. And it’s not a crime to admit that part of us started for the aesthetic. The clean girlie runs. The minimalist Strava posts. The way a new pair of shoes can make you feel like your life’s in order.
But there comes a point when the clout wears off. And when it does, you’re left with the question: why am I still doing this?
That’s when it shifts. Suddenly, you’re not chasing likes or kudos on Strava. You’re chasing breath. Headspace. Discipline. Joy, even. You’re running not because people are watching, but because you can. Because you need to.
You find peace in the repetition, power in the discomfort, and real magic in the stillness between steps.
Running hurts – and heals
There’s no sugarcoating it: running is hard. Especially when you’re starting out. You’ll feel every step in your shins, your lungs, your pride. But you also start to notice small wins. You sleep better. You eat better. You handle stress a little differently. The fog in your head clears. Your patience stretches. And your heart? It gets stronger, in more ways than one.
Running becomes your moving meditation, your safe space, your ritual, and your way of checking in with yourself when the world feels too much. Some runs are ugly. Some are euphoric. Most are just okay. But every run counts. Every run carries us forward, even sometimes we don’t know where we’re going.
So, what are we really running toward?
We all start for different reasons. For me, it started with a simple question from someone else. For others, it’s health. Or heartbreak, or heartbreak disguised as health. Sometimes it’s because of loneliness. Sometimes it’s to feel alive. Or sometimes, it’s just spontaneous. But whatever pushed us to take that first step, the ones that follow – those are for us.
Running doesn’t demand perfection, just presence, effort, and the willingness to move, even when it’s hard.So whether you’re chasing clout, clarity, or just trying to outrun your thoughts for a while – that’s valid. That’s human. That’s the run!
And trust me – somewhere along the way, you’ll realize you’re not just running away from something.
You’re running toward yourself.
