So long, Strava

I exercise to escape, not connect. Which generally means the fewer people involved, the better. An empty lane in the swimming pool. An empty byway. Just me and the bike.

Because I do most of my activity – cycling, swimming, running, walking – alone, I don’t have large clubs of people to interact with on Strava. I’m just connected to a few friends I know in real life. And, for the most part, I’ve enjoyed seeing what they’re up to.

Sure, when someone runs a marathon or completes an Ironman, and all I’ve done that day is cycle to the shops, maybe I feel a little stab of inadequacy. But for me, the bigger problem comes from posting my own activities. Not because I crave kudos – I can live without that – but simply because sharing becomes an obligation.

I don’t need the app developers’ gamification tactics to make me do it; my head takes care of all that for them.

I’m an upholder, according to author Gretchen Rubin’s Four Tendencies framework (I thoroughly recommend Rubin’s writing, by the way). Upholders like me respond readily to outer and inner expectations, and I’m particularly driven to fulfil tasks I’ve set myself. If I write it on my to-do list, I have to do it. End of story.

That means I’m pretty susceptible to the idea that once I start posting activities to Strava, I have to keep going. I have to keep that streak alive. I don’t need the app developers’ gamification tactics to make me do it; my head takes care of all that for them.

Is this really such a problem? After all, I walk or cycle most days. So I usually have something to post. It’s not like I have to make a special trip out on my bike just to feed the algorithm. And I know I could configure Strava’s settings to automatically post my activities from my GPS devices to my timeline, saving me the hassle.

The obligation to post adds to the nagging digital noise that pollutes every corner of life.

Well, for one thing, automatically posting my location to Strava is a privacy nightmare, even with the start and end points of routes hidden. But that’s not the biggest issue. What bugs me most about Strava is that I find the obligation to post adds to the nagging digital noise that pollutes every corner of life.

WhatsApp notifications for groups I can’t avoid (school parents, kids’ activities). Multiple emails about every online order. Thanks for ordering. It’s on its way. It’s left the warehouse. It’s out for delivery. It’s been delivered. Give us a review. And then on top of all that, Strava is nagging me to feed its algorithm.

All this is the antithesis of the quietness I’m looking for when I head out on my bike or on foot. It’s the opposite of how Rónán Hession’s characters live their lives in this novel Leonard and Hungry Paul. I loved this book. It’s a beautiful, gentle and funny celebration of lives lived quietly amid a world that overlooks the potential of peaceful people.

Hungry Paul doesn’t have a mobile phone, so is always on time to meet his friend Leonard. He makes a plan and sticks to it. No last-minute excuses or messages. No changing of arrangements. And, although it’s not mentioned explicitly, no Strava. It wouldn’t be his or Leonard’s style anyway:

Their friendship was not just one of convenience between two quiet, solitary men with few other options, it was a pact. A pact to resist the vortex of busyness and insensitivity that had engulfed the rest of the world. It was a pact of simplicity, which stood against the forces of competitiveness and noise. 

Well, I’ve also taken a stand against the forces of competitiveness and noise: I’ve deleted Strava.

During the last couple of months, I’ve found my time extremely limited. Long days away from home with lots on my mind. Something had to give. And in the end, it was Strava. I stopped posting activities, and I didn’t miss it much. So, after a while, I deleted the app from my phone.

An ephemeral, unrecorded walk or bike ride is a rather beautiful thing.

I’ll continue to use technology to help me. Acquiring a watch that counts lengths of the pool has transformed my swimming experience by allowing my mind to wander. I feel free in the water. And I’d be lost, quite literally, without a Garmin mounted on my bike. But I won’t let that technology create extra work or persuade me that everything has to be logged.

An ephemeral, unrecorded walk or bike ride is a rather beautiful thing. A day spent moving through the landscape without leaving a trace. Not even a digital one. Without Strava, nobody will see exactly which track I walked or rode. My route, my time, my pace, my elevation gain, my heart rate. The data won’t exist, nagging me to post it.

Instead, I’ll focus on sträva – the Swedish word for striving that inspired the fitness app’s name. I’ll strive to make time in my day and space in my head to ride a bike, or go for a walk. I might take time to write about my journeys, if I wish. I’ll post the stories and photos here. On my own website. On my own terms.