For a sport that attracts the sort of people who like running long distances on their own, ultrarunning can be noisy.
It’s brilliant that there are so many podcasts, films, events, festivals, race expos, and start-line parties, but for many athletes, that’s not why they first got into the sport. The electric atmosphere is a lot of fun, but what if you’re of a quieter disposition?
Katie Schide claiming her second UTMB win in three years at the 2024 edition. Schide says she is introverted and loves running alone despite being a public figure in the sport. Photo: iRunFar/Meghan Hicks
I began asking questions about my place in the sport as an introvert at the start line of the Lavaredo Ultra Trail by UTMB 120k last year. I had heard about the start line being a circus, a high-energy mass of spectators, despite the 11 p.m. start time, but it was all louder and brighter than I had imagined. My background is in local trail races where I live in the U.K., where runners vaguely shuffle their feet around, making jokes about the weather until someone says, “Go,” so this was quite a shock to the system.
There were commentators on the speaker system, loud music, drinking, dancing, hugging, and laughing. Everyone was pumped and ready to go out into the night. Don’t get me wrong, I love a good party, just not before I run 120 kilometers. I sat meekly on a bench with my bags, trying to find a calm place within, feeling increasingly drained.
The author (right), closer to her comfort zone, during the 2023 Centurion Running Thames Path 100 Mile. Photo courtesy of Lydia Thomson.
I can’t remember exactly where or when I first heard elite ultrarunner Katie Schide talk about being an introvert, but she has been unashamedly vocal. Her quiet power has seen her rise to podium positions and course records, including most recently at the 2024 UTMB, which she won in course record time. I also understand that Jon Albon, a British elite ultrarunner and obstacle racer, has introverted tendencies despite becoming a public figure through his top performances in multiple sports disciplines.
I have been comforted and inspired by how these athletes carry themselves through their races, holding their own space beside the roaring cheers from spectators, turning hours of training alone into another race win. Neither gets swept up in the hype and instead — yes, quietly — gets on with it. For me, these athletes have made it ok to approach racing in a softer but no less steely way.
In this article, we share what we’ve learned from Schide and Albon and explore the power and place of introverts in ultrarunning.
Challenges for Introverts in the Noise of Race Day
So, what does it mean to be an introvert? A straightforward explanation is in the book “Quiet,” by Susan Cain (1), a book that was hugely important for Schide’s understanding of her place in the world. Cain writes, “Introverts recharge their batteries by being alone; extroverts need to recharge when they don’t socialize enough.” Basically, if you’re an introvert, a long run on your own in the woods will be absolute heaven. If you’re an extrovert, meeting up with friends to pass the miles in some company will be ideal. This is an over-simplification, and of course, it depends on circumstances and even mood, but that’s the basic premise.
It can present a bit of a dichotomy for endurance athletes who spend a lot of time training alone but do so to compete at massive events with thousands of other people. This is the case for Schide, and I talked with her about it. She was at home in her life of relative solitude with her partner and fellow athlete Germain Grangier in a village in France with a population of about 50 people.
She says, “There’s part of me that’s like Yeah, of course I want to be at the biggest events, that’s where you can get the most out of yourself, but you also have to be able to manage the part of it than can be overwhelming and exhausting.” Schide is convinced that most endurance athletes deal with this to some degree. As she points out, “If you love trail running and are dedicated to it, it means you enjoy spending a lot of time alone because you have to spend a lot of time alone.”
Katie Schide in a quieter place, on a backpacking trip on the Long Trail in Vermont. Photo courtesy of Katie Schide.
I also chatted with Albon, who greets me on the day we speak with a cheery “Hello!” from his home in Norway, where he lives with his wife, ultrarunner Henriette Albon. Albon is a little more ambiguous about his place on the spectrum between introvert and extrovert. He describes his predilections as tendencies, the traits of having been a shy child. He also reflects on the start line atmosphere: “I am normally standing on the side, not that excited, not wanting to stand at the front and lap it up. I don’t thrive off everyone cheering and trying to give you that energy. I just want to get into the run. I internalize it I guess, I don’t thrive off the energy from other people.”
Both describe classic introvert traits, and it seems like a lot to overcome for the beginning of the race when you need all your energy reserves intact. For a true introvert, it could potentially be quite a hindrance. Schide says, “In some ways, we’re pretty lucky, elite athletes, because we can show up 15 minutes before the start and just slip into the front.” She sympathizes with the runners who are not elite, who often have to get to the start lines of the bigger races early, sometimes waiting over an hour to get moving.
Albon has a similar outlook: “I’m sure my introverted symptoms would be going through the roof if I had to do that these days.” This is reassuring to hear. If you’re standing there, overwhelmed while everyone else is clapping, it’s easy to feel like you’re the only one finding it all a bit much. You’re clapping along, too, because you are honestly excited, but it distracts from the gentler focus you would normally proceed with.
Jon Albon ski training at home in Norway. Photo: Petter Engdahl
I ask Schide how she copes with it nowadays. She says, “I’ve gotten used to it. My least favorite part of every race is the first hour to two hours. Because it’s just too much. There are too many people, you’re next to people, it’s too loud. But I like after one or two hours when things settle out, there’s more space, all the hype is kinda’ done.” However, she astutely reflects that the hype also makes racing special — otherwise, you might as well be gathering for a training run.
Strength in Solitude
When we’re into the race in earnest, the power of the introvert can come into its own. You are in your head, and this is when the reversion to solitude — to your most natural state — can come to the fore. For the elite runners, things start to spread out much sooner than for the rest of the field. The start lines of races like Lavaredo are a mass of frustrated over-takers, grunts, and misplaced poles — all fighting for a clear path up a narrow trail for hours after the fireworks have gone off. It’s exciting, we’re all in it together, and there can be a lovely camaraderie. But as Cain observes in “Quiet,” “Introverts and extroverts differ in the level of outside stimulation they need to function well.” Midpack to back-of-pack introverts may struggle to find their inner balance in those hours after the race start when many other high energy runners still surround them.
After that point, as the gaps widen, most of us can just slide into obscurity. For the professional athletes, however, the focus is still on them. Schide describes how this used to feel in previous years of racing: “I felt a lot of pressure, like, every time I see someone, I have to be smiling so that they like me. I kind of got over that in the last couple of years. I don’t have to smile unless I want to. I was losing some energy because I was always thinking, Oh, there’s a person, I’m thinking about that person, How do I please them?”
She felt that this was silly because the race was something she had signed up for that was just for her. “At some point I stopped caring too much about what other people thought of me while I was racing and owned just being myself 100%, and it gave me a bit more freedom to race how I wanted to.” Now, Schide’s insular racing style is praised as “authentic.”
Katie Schide running her own race at the 2024 UTMB, on her way to setting a new course record. Photo: UTMB
It’s an encouraging tale. Particularly for women, the urge to people-please can additionally sit high in the mix, even when you’re at the dribbling end of a 100-mile race. It can be tough if you don’t actively draw energy from interacting with people around you.
But as Albon points out, it’s a bit of a double-edged sword: “I do feel like some people are very affected by the energy of the race, and that can be a blessing and a curse … You can either get all this energy from the people, or just completely revert, and it can drag you down. I’ve seen athletes DNF [did not finish] because they just can’t deal with being seen to be weak when normally they’re the happy, bubbly one.”
Albon finds it beneficial that he’s not as affected by the crowds — like Schide, he can stay in his little bubble. “You do get a kick of adrenaline, I’m not saying it doesn’t have any effect at all, but I think for some other people it can dictate how well the race is even going to go.”
Jon Albon looking calm on his way to winning the 2023 CCC. Photo: UTMB
The Introvert’s Place in the Running Community
The running community can be an enormous source of support in this sport — crewing each other’s races, training together, and being there for a fellow runner when they’re injured or when a race doesn’t go their way. But if that’s not what you want the community for, or you already have that support from other people, what is your place in it?
As Susan Cain states, “Today we make room for a remarkably narrow range of personality styles. We’re told that to be great is to be bold, to be happy is to be sociable. We see ourselves as a nation of extroverts — which means we’ve lost sight of who we really are.”
Schide leaves no ambiguity as to where she stands on this. “I don’t like group runs, I don’t like social runs. I’m happy to do it when I have to be in a place and there’s three of my friends and we’re like, ‘Oh let’s all go for a run!’ And I’m like, ‘Cool, that’s fun.’ But I don’t want to do it every day. I’m not there for the community run. I think those things are cool, but that’s not why I enjoy the sport.”
Schide is quite strident about this, as am I in our conversation. We both feel it should be completely ok to prefer to run alone and not to want to chat. Realizing that this unlocks your strength in the sport could be the greatest possible key to thriving in training. Schide says, “When I see a super long run on my training log, I’m like, I can’t wait to spend seven hours by myself on this run, it’s gonna’ be so great. I didn’t realize not everyone is excited about that? And it’s a benefit I have. It’s something I thrive off.”
Albon agrees, “That is a good thing about being a little bit introverted: the fact that you don’t mind going out and being alone because that’s where you thrive.” I ask Schide whether she trains with her partner Grangier, an elite ultrarunner. “Sometimes, but generally, we train alone,” she says. “And I find when I run with people — even if it’s Germain — you’re not totally in your own space because you’re always aware of the other person.”
Katie Schide running with Germain Grangier near Fort Collins, Colorado. Photo: Aaron Colussi
She has put into words so simply and neatly the slight disjointedness I feel when running with others. Sometimes, that’s a benefit — running alongside someone can distract you from the seething fatigue in your legs. And undoubtedly, it is nice to run with friends — with someone whose company you enjoy. Albon points out that if you have a pacer in a race, it’s nice to see a friendly face, and they can keep you running at the right pace when you’re tired and don’t realize that you’re running so much slower than you were.
Albon trains with others occasionally, and there are set athletes in Norway with whom he sometimes plans workouts, including Kilian Jornet. “But very often, I’m training alone.” He says. “I think that’s the best way you can control your training and maybe the most enjoyable.” His pet peeve is when your running partner treats the workout as more of a competition. “Especially in trail running when you want to get this flow feeling as much and as often as possible, and if you’re with someone else and they’re stressing to try and see whether they’re fitter than you, you lose the tranquility and flow feeling.”
No doubt, there are plenty of athletes around you on race day doing just that, sapping the flow feeling. So, we’re back at that dichotomy: if you prefer to run alone, why would you go to a race with thousands of other competitors? For Albon, it’s a means to an end. He and his wife Henriette mainly race because they enjoy the training. He says, “As long as I enjoy myself in the training I am really happy. When it comes to the race, the pressure, the people, it’s all just a bit much.”
Schide, however, really loves racing. She has been doing local cross-country races over the winter and says, “It’s funny because it’s so human-intensive, people surround you, but I love this feeling of racing with other people and taking the energy of everyone … I try to think of it like sucking in energy and it being a one-way road, I can only take in energy, I don’t give my energy to anyone. It’s only for me.” I think this gives some indication as to why she’s such a fierce competitor.
Albon is magnificently fierce, too, but talks more about racing with his heart on his sleeve: “Running these long races is an emotional thing. You are quite vulnerable. And you’re running up to the aid station, and you almost start crying because you have so many emotions going, and then you see your wife … And then quite often I manage to turn that around and think, No, you might think everything’s over, and you might think it’s the worst possible position to be in, and you’re not winning … but you’re going to fight.”
Jon Albon at the finish of the 2025 Transgrancanaria, where he placed second. Photo: World Trail Majors
Although it’s from different angles, there it is: the intrinsically motivated athlete. Running alone just doesn’t bring the same fire. You can only fight for a win if it’s against another human being.
It is worth noting that neither Schide nor Albon is truly alone. They both live with partners who not only directly understand the sport at an elite level but also understand them as individuals. In both cases, it is like living with an extension of themselves. They can move in independent circles, respecting each other’s time, space, and needs.
When I spoke to Schide, she and Grangier had both been skiing that day but had gone out separately. As Schide says, “We just know when each other needs space because we both need it, so it’s not something we ever have to explain.” Likewise, despite Albon shunning the more conventional qualities of a community, my heart melts a little when he glances up from the digital interview on his laptop to his wife and says, “We’ve got a nice relationship where we have each other, so I guess that’s my little community.”
It’s just a quieter, more introverted community.
Albon is really funny. Schide is really funny. Schide has a dry outlook that has me crumpled over with laughter. I agreed wholeheartedly when she says, “I think there are more people who like the sport because they’re alone, but we’re not the people who loudly tell everybody, “I LOVE THIS SPORT BECAUSE I’M ALONE. ALL THE TIME!” Albon’s thoughtfulness is balanced by delightful silliness. “Trail running is romanticized a lot. We’re told we’re not meant to train properly, we’re meant to just go and move in the mountains, we’re meant to be at one with nature and flowing along, we’re meant to be smiling and wear flowers in our hair, and it’s not like that.”
For a couple of people not up for chatting during races, they’re depriving fellow competitors of some solid laughs. But if we’ve learned anything here, you don’t have to please all the people all the time. And you don’t have to wear flowers in your hair.
For many, time spent alone is part of the appeal of training for ultrarunning. Photo: iRunFar/Eszter Horanyi
The Power of the Introvert
I feel like I’m just scratching the surface of the power of the introvert in this sport. Of course, there’s no correct answer, and neither is one personality type better than the other. If we’ve gained any wisdom from the popularization of such categorizations, it’s that there are benefits to both in multiple contexts. We’re all on the spectrum somewhere. But it’s clear from chatting to Jon Albon and Katie Schide, that at the sport’s core, it does lend itself to the sort of mind that is happiest feeding off its own energy.
The community is amazing, and community is what makes the races feel special and the sport feel like the best sport in the world. I just want to make a bit of noise for the quieter souls. If you’re excited about a long run on your own, there’s no shame in embracing that. It may just be to your advantage.
Before the start of the Lavaredo 120k last year, I finally found a quiet place around the back of the expo where workers were taking the tents apart. The only noise was the occasional drill removing a screw. Likeminded runners had settled themselves on some upturned benches and tables, all sat a few meters apart, taking time with closed eyes and soft breath to focus the best way they knew how. I joined them. Everything started to settle and still. Someone sneezed, and I said, “Bless you,” and that’s as exciting as it got. I’m doing the race again this year, and I’ll be heading straight for that quiet place. Because it takes all sorts to run these races, and I’ll enjoy the fireworks in my low key way.
Call for Comments
- Are you an introvert? Did any of this resonate with you?
- If time alone is one of your reasons for running, how do you navigate some of our sport’s louder or more people-y parts?
References
- Susan Cain, “Quiet: The Power of Introverts in a World That Can’t Stop Talking” (2013) Penguin Random House.
