You heard not a whimper from your’s truly on January 1st about taking ‘up’ anything new for 2024. This was an intentional casting aside of too many adult years spent setting myself – and my kids (so sorry) targets to achieve over the subsequent 12 months. This year, on a New Year’s Day run (start the year right, people), my friend asked me what I would be ‘letting go’ this January. I have been so preoccupied with taking new things ‘up’ that this was a novel and refreshing idea. I promptly decided to ditch worthy intentions; I returned home to write myself a list of things I would now be slacking off – namely: housework, trying to hold an intelligent conversation with the British Gas Chatbot and personal debt.

I cannot boast a totally rudderless start to the year however, for over the restive period I found myself persuaded to join Strava – technically this means that I have taken something new ‘up’ after all.

You will have inferred over the years that I am not the most tech savvy person. I use my very old Garmin to clock my running mileage but have never saved any of my runs. I track my progress only by scribbling my scraps of mileage into my 5 year diary each night (I do not know why I do this, perhaps it is a little Bridget Jonesish for I never tally the annual count at the end of 12 months or compare it to the previous year or even convert it to metric; I do run in Bridget Jonesesque big girl pants, but realise I am now oversharing).

My running partners all use Strava and have long challenged me about my non-engagement. I have argued that I have an obsessive personality and I do not want to get fixated on what I – or other people – are up to. I also realise that I probably squeeze too many runs into a week, and I do not want any followers to be thinking, ‘there she goes again, our sad snail, out there at 5.30 am, sorting her head out while the rest of us sensible mortals sleep’. In short, I like to run under the radar, I am not competitive with other people and I do not want to download another app.

However, over the Christmas break my son ups his training for his forthcoming London Marathon place (he is running for Life for a Cure – a brilliant charity) and we get chatting about how he is using Strava to plot his progress. I can see the logic in this and nod encouragingly. I then notice that my regular running partner often tags an extra loop on to the end of a run when I believe we have officially finished. I will be veering off to the Co-op to buy breakfast and he will be telling me, ‘I just need to round up my mileage, or my Manchester followers will start taking the mick’. This latter practice supports my argument that Strava will start playing mind games and make me obsess so I forget my conversation with Favourite Son and give an eye roll to the next person suggesting I join Strava.

At the end of the year, my running friend, courtesy of Strava, is able to tell me how many miles he has clocked up over the past 12 months and how much encouragement (sorry, ‘kudos’ in Strava lingo) that he has received from his followers to make this impressive total possible; he has run further than he has ever run before. At this point I very nearly consider diving into my diary to total up my annual mileage to see how we compare. Nearly.

I stick to my guns and tell Favourite Son that even if I do want to join this Strava love-in, I have no idea how to download a run on my Garmin or how to to synch this watch with Strava. This cuts no mustard; FS takes my phone and – within seconds – synchs my Garmin with the app in an idiot-proof fashion. Apparently all I now have to do is run. I realise that the take over of my rudimentary tech will translate as defeat, so I tell him that I may even let go of running in 2024. I tell him he may have wasted his time. I am too proud to look invested.

Favourite Son must also have been lobbying behind my back for friends then start mentioning Strava randomly, in non-running-related chatter. They start arguing that I would be foolish to miss an opportunity to connect with some of the lovely runners I have met recently at trail events. One friend gives me an example of a relative who had found romance via Strava. I rally with a story of infidelity evidenced by a partner from Strava without recourse to hiring a private detective, but admit privately that it would be nice to meet some like-minded people away from the world of Linked-in.

In a rash moment I sign up – to the free version, naturally – and sell my running soul.

I tell this story, not to advocate against or on behalf of Strava, but to note that sometimes I can be persuaded to do things differently. I decide to let go of my Strava prejudice but do put controls on my obsessive nature by electing to follow a couple of people only (5) and by ignoring the temptations of the ‘progress’ tab and the training log, relative effort and monthly fitness graphs that it is willing to provide.

I go for my first Strava run and receive a thumbs up or, ‘kudos’ before I have even hit the shower afterwards. Surprisingly, this feels uplifting.

I find that I start checking on my son’s marathon progress, noting that it is easier to check his Strava than to annoy him by repeatedly asking how his running is going. I can see from a distance that his training is going really well – although his Strava speeds throw me a little when he goes skiing for a week for I had not noticed that he had switched sport on his activity feed (note that I am picking up the lingo faster than I can run).

As you know, I am house sitting/squatting/sofa surfing at my friends’ house during the long wait to move into my cottage renovation (I am nearly there, but you will know definitively from my Strava routes when I eventually switch postcode) and, because of Strava, I soon find that I need to warn my landlords that when they return from South Africa they may get stopped in the street/need to take up running because Strava is now announcing that I am, ‘the new Local Legend in town!’ My running partner is not overjoyed when I share this news with him, for he is my current neighbour and apparently was the Local Running Legend until he persuaded me to join the Strava dark side; unlike me, he was too modest to share this accolade when the title was his . I tell him that if my landlords continue to shun a running shoe, once I move, his title will soon be reclaimed.

At the end of our run yesterday I found myself running to the end of the road and back to finish with a rounded total mileage on my Garmin. Luckily I find my running partner is doing exactly the same, but I note that Strava is already changing my behaviour. Later, I feel embarrassed when my run shows up on my feed, for I am showing an extra mile on our shared run and his Manchester crew have just given him ‘kudos’ for his lesser mileage – I have never met them, but I do not want them thinking that their pal runs with a charlatan; I quickly message my fellow runner to explain that I forgot to turn my watch off when I walked back from the shops and then decided that I did need to do some housework after our run. I am all for healthy competition, but not with my friends.

My behaviour yesterday makes me concerned enough to Google the signs of obsessive Strava practice. Apparently there are at least 22 of these; for the record, the ones I feel I may need to keep an eye on are:

• the first thing you do when you finish a run is whip out your phone
• you spend the majority of your run thinking what to call it
• you get uncontrollably upset if you forget to switch you tracker on
• you use the phrase ‘if it’s not on Strava it isn’t happening’

I think I will be safe on:

• you think yelling, ‘Strava’ is an acceptable excuse for overtaking someone. (I rarely overtake – Strava would have to be a miracle worker to motivate me to do so).
• You give ‘kudos’ to rivals you secretly despise (I have not yet started stalking other people on Strava; I love my 5 contacts)
• You prefer running by yourself so that no-one slows you down. As if.
• You once thought of using a car for a Strava segment (petrol prices are still high).

Although I resist drilling into any analysis of my fitness levels on the Strava app, I find myself a little jarred when I receive a message, ‘you are holding steady with your recent efforts’; this reads to me as, ‘slow and dependable,’ and I do not want this description to colour any other aspect of my life. Later yesterday my feed catchs up with itself and I receive a more encouraging email reading: ‘Nice One! You are still the Local Legend in your town!’ I then read the small print, ‘you have completed the most efforts on this segment over the last 90 days’. Again, at the risk of English Teacher semantics, ‘effort’ is not connoting the gazelle like sprinter I had hoped Strava may encourage.  I distract myself by looking at the calories burnt that morning (dangerous I know) and console myself with a large coffee and a huge piece of flapjack, realising that Strava may also prove to be counter-productive in this respect.

Today I had British Military Fit, and I forgot to tell you that the other thing I let go of this year is talking during these outdoor sessions. Not a whimper has been heard from me since January 1st. Over the last 14 years the instructor has barked repeatedly, ‘you would not allow a student to talk through your English lessons, so do not keep yabbering during my sessions’. On January 1st I decide to start demonstrating the military iron will he has ingrained in me over the years and decide not to talk in any of the sessions until the start of February. I can not find a way to track this silence on Strava but note that I am starting to unnerve my fellow bootcampers. Friday’s 6 am session took place without a word of banter (just low level burpee-induced groaning) and I feel this needs to be recorded in some way. I may need to design an app. When I can speak again I will ask one of the class if any of them wear a heart monitor so that we can take some comparative data and see if I am single-handedly encouraging them all to increase their fitness levels on account of my selfless silence. Until then, I am keeping schtum. I may set myself a late resolution for the new year and aim to be the Bristol Military Fit Local Legend. I certainly have my eyes set on ‘Member of the Month’ for sheer bloody mindedness. I might just check out my BMF competition on Strava…so much for letting go.