I love trail running. Most of the time. 90%. Maybe 85. It's a fun and varied form of exercise that gets me out of the house and into nature. But sometimes I hate it. like 15% of the time. Maybe 20.
I hate blisters and joint pain, I hate it when hikers try to talk to me, and I hate getting sunburned and windburned at the same time. Trail running is great until is isn't, at which point it becomes a dirty, strenuous mess of an activity.
So, against my editor's wishes, here are 10 things I detest about my favourite sport, starting with...
1. Ankle pain
Trail running hurts. Specifically: it hurts your ankles. Uneven terrain is hazardous, but it is worth saying that it does promote stronger ankles and more core work. In general, trail running is a full-body workout, unlike road running, and this is what we’d usually call a ‘benefit’, in the trail vs tarmac debate. But, some days, I just don’t want to work my ankles to oblivion.
Sometimes I want to be on a nice, predictable surface where I can think about literally anything other than foot placement. Especially when I'm already tired, I don’t want to be calculating my next step like I’m trying to disarm a claymore with long Covid brain fog. I want to zone out and listen to my bean-based podcast. Is that too much to ask?
2. Routes with no flat sections
Oh great, a nice loop through the woods – "moderate effort," said Komoot. "Some hills," it promised. What it delivered was a never-ending sequence of vertical climbs and ankle-destroying descents, with just enough flat to lull me into a false sense of security before slapping me with another 20% gradient like a stair climber machine that's gained sentience and hates me.
Some running apps have elevation charts, but they’re deceptive. Little squiggly lines that look manageable until you’re actually there, crying on the fourth false summit. I don't mind hills, I really don’t, but I’d at least like to be warned. Tell me when the route is secretly a fell race in disguise. I’ll still do it. I’ll just pack energy bars and make peace with my knees first.
3. Approaching walkers from behind and trying not to scare them
It is a near-impossible task to overtake walkers without making them jump. I do my best. I slow down. I shuffle loudly. I start fake-coughing from 10 metres back. I scream things like "HELLO, BADGER!" But walkers are somehow chronically deaf. Nothing gets through until you zip past and startle them half to death.
Which, I'll admit, is a scary experience. If I were walking in the woods and a big sweaty stranger suddenly appeared at my shoulder, I’d dive out of the way and go right for the knife I don't own.
But when you’re on the receiving end of the shocked gasp, the wide eyes, the little laugh that’s clearly covering mortal panic, you feel like a real nuisance. A wet, colourful, well-meaning nuisance who just wants to overtake without causing a scene.
4. Existential dread
Y'know that feeling when you see the exact same tree multiple times on a woodland run, and you get convinced you're living in a simulation or video game where the developers are reusing assets to pad out the level out? Like, copying and pasting trees to fill a forest on a deadline. It’s the same dread you get whenever you're on one of those roundabouts above an A road and see the same burger van in the same lay-by.
A kind of déjà vu that spikes your anxiety and makes you feel worthless because your subjective experience isn’t even worth the extra power or man hours or whatever it might take to properly convince you that your reality is, in fact, real. It’s an awful, Lovecraftian insult, the implication that you're not even worth populating a single forest with individual trees for. Just a little, insignificant, inconsequential bit of code. Isn't that such an annoying feeling?
5. Litter bugs
Here’s a radical idea: take your rubbish with you! Revolutionary, I know. It seriously sucks to see so many trails tarnished by gel wrappers, plastic bottles, sandwich bags, socks for some reason. Why so many socks?
I get that accidents happen. Maybe the wind took it. Maybe it fell out of a pocket. Fine. But if you’re deliberately dropping stuff like Hansel and Gretel if all they had were nutrition products, then I will personally chase you down with a compostable spork. Trail running is muddy, chaotic, and sometimes painful, but it shouldn't be trashy.
6. Actual bugs
Horseflies, midges, ants, ticks. I’ve been bitten by more flying things than you've had hot dinners. At this point I think I’m 12% venom. You start a summer run feeling fresh and free and finish it looking like you lost a fight in a wasp nest.
Some people wear insect repellent. I, however, usually forget and then spend the rest of the day trying not to scratch my new army of raised red bumps. It's awful. Is this one my fault? Maybe, but I'm not pulling that thread.
7. The ravenous rest of the day
post-run hunger, especially in the morning, is real and it is monstrous. You get home from what you thought was gonna be a good, healthy bit of exercise, only to be overcome with a desire to eat WAY more calories than your run could have possibly burned.
And I'm weak, understand? Maybe you can resist that feeling, or just eat something healthy, but I can't. When the hunger comes for me, I go full flesh-craving zombie. I beg myself not to put chicken dippers in the air fryer, yet there I go again, reaching for the freezer, an unstoppable force.
8. Running gear (specifically: finding it)
I am always losing something. Socks, shoes, soft flasks, my literally high-visibility hydration vest – gone. In the shadow realm. Half my pre-run energy goes into hunting for that one pair of shorts with the zipped back pocket because why the hell do almost all running shorts have no god damn pockets!?
Trail running gear is brilliant when you have it. But between washing it, drying it, storing it, and trying to remember which jacket still has half a bag of Starmix in the chest pocket, it becomes a logistical nightmare. I just want to run, but I'm bound by my job to be constantly testing gear, so, keep your eyes peeled for another running belt review next week.
9. The very existence of Strava and everyone on it
Congrats on your 5K, Graham. Really. Love that for you. Enjoy your little orange crown and your GPS-art that looks like a... well. Whatever you might call that. I'll admit here that I'm a slow, slow runner. I like trail running for the exploring and variation, and the fact that there's far less emphasis on pace. But Strava doesn't know that. My road running friends don't think like I do.
It's not fun getting a notification saying I'm the, like, 80th fastest person to run this random bridleway! And don't get me started on how much excuse-making we all seem to be doing these days. Is every run a low-tempo recovery run? Or are you hiding from the truth? TELL ME, GRAHAM.
10. The benefits
And finally, the worst thing about trail running: the heck-darn benefits. I hate how smug I feel after a run. I hate the sense of clarity, the improved mood, the casual leg tone. I hate that my anxiety simmers down, that I sleep better, that no matter how my day has gone, I can disappear into myself for an hour and just flow, reset, and get home feeling a bit better.
I started running because I lied in my interview for this job when they asked if I'd be up for spearheading the new trail running section. I scoffed at my peers as they slowly fell in love with exercise. But now, I’m the guy who wakes up early to jog through foggy fields and catch the sunrise. It's disgusting. Trail running is awful. I recommend it to everyone.
Run 1000 Miles
Every year, we host our annual Run 1000 Miles Challenge. It's one of our favourite ways to get people on the trails, and signing up gives you access to lots of benefits, including 15% off of all running gear at SportsShoes!
So, for any of you who haven't already signed up to run 1000 miles this year, go for it and start your trail running journey. Then, don't forget to use your new discount on a pair of tough trail running shoes to take your running off-road for good.
About the author
Milo Wilson is our trail running writer at LFTO who tends to exaggerate when telling certain origin stories. He's been a full-time member of the team since May 2023 and loves nothing more than trashing pairs of trail running shoes in the Surrey Hills whenever he's not at his desk.