The Commodification of Community in Trail Running
The Commodification of Community in Trail Running
Trail running has long been a refuge—a place for self-discovery, resilience, and deep connection with both nature and like-minded individuals. For many, it has been their "Sunday service"—a time to process life, explore themselves, and work through challenges both mental and physical. Ultra endurance events, in particular, have served as a form of therapy for those navigating addiction, depression, grief, or simply trying to understand themselves for the first time in their adult lives. The many miles and hours spent on the trail offer an uninterrupted opportunity to look deep within, with only the terrain ahead and the vast presence of the mountains or desert to guide reflection. Hours of solitude—or shared struggle with others—force runners to go deeper than most ever will in their lifetime. That connection, that raw, unfiltered experience, is what makes our community so special. Meeting others who are also searching for answers, who understand the sacrifice and pain of running 50+ miles through the mountains not just for a medal, but for personal growth, is what binds us. This is why the commodification of the sport—or more so, the "selling" of the community—has had such a negative impact on trail running. It has shifted the focus from self-discovery and camaraderie to exclusivity and profit, changing how we see the sport and interact with each other.
The Problem: Turning Community into Commodity
The trail running community once thrived on raw experience—grueling training in the hardest conditions, battling physical obstacles, and pushing through the mental highs and lows that come with long hours on the trail. It was about discovering what we were made of, finding resilience in solitude, and bonding with others who understood that suffering can be transformative. But as the sport has gained mainstream popularity, corporations and race organizations have sought to monetize nearly every aspect of it, altering the fundamental ethos of the sport in several ways. As we, the people in this sport, get older and welcome newcomers, it's time to take a look at what we are really offering. Is it still what it once was? Are we handing off future generations the same wild, raw, confidence-building, nature-bonding experience that we started with? Or are we handing off just another thing to consume—a persona that can be purchased? From the outside looking in, it's easy to be lured in by the promise of a tight-knit group experiencing character-building, life-changing moments, like those we see at the finish of a 100-mile race where grown men cross the line in tears, finishing as a different person than they started. But are we truly welcoming them into that journey, or are we selling them an image with a hefty price tag—thousands of dollars in shoes, brand-name gear where a shirt alone costs $90, and race entries priced in the hundreds, plus the branded finisher swag to prove they were there? The question is, are we keeping the doors open for them to have the same experience we had, or are we now marketing the next "quick transformation"?”
1. The Price of Participation
Race entry fees have skyrocketed, with some premier ultras charging upwards of $400-$500 for a single event. While races require funding to cover permits, safety measures, and logistics, the real issue isn't just the cost—it's how these high-priced races are being marketed. Larger race companies, top athletes, and social media influencers portray these events as the pinnacle of trail running, pushing the idea that to truly be part of the community, you have to run these specific races. This creates an illusion of exclusivity, making it feel like the sport is something you have to buy into rather than simply enjoy. These races are advertised as the pinnacle of trail running, the events where 'real' runners gather, where all the elites attend. Of course, we all want a chance to run on the same trails as these elite athletes, to test ourselves on the same climbs and descents, to say we were there. We've been sold the idea that running these races earns us entry into a special, tight-knit community, that finishing them means we belong. And then, once we’re in, we get 'sold' the merch—because what’s the point of being part of the club if we can’t prove it? The shirt, the trucker hat, the branded jacket—they become status symbols, tangible proof that we were there, that we paid the price of acceptance. It’s no longer just about the miles we ran, but about the dollars we spent getting to the start line, and even more to walk away with something that says we were part of it. As race entry fees climb, these "must-do" races become less accessible, contradicting the very spirit of inclusion and adventure that drew so many to trail running in the first place.
2. Overpriced Gear and Footwear
A pair of trail running shoes now routinely costs over $180, with brands constantly rolling out limited editions and high-tech models that claim to offer game-changing improvements. While innovation has its place, the relentless push to upgrade fosters an artificial belief that better gear equals better performance. Just as prices climb, so does the speed at which trends roll out—making it nearly impossible to keep up. One season it’s carbon-plated shoes, the next it’s a 'must-have' minimal drop, then the latest proprietary foam that supposedly shaves minutes off your race time. The pressure to constantly upgrade sends the message that if you're not buying the latest version, you’re falling behind.
Basic gear that was once affordable—like moisture-wicking shirts and durable shorts—has now become premium-priced essentials. A simple running shirt can cost $90, a hydration vest easily exceeds $150, and even socks come with 'performance-enhancing' claims. Beyond the cost, the rapid turnover of 'must-have' trends forces runners into an endless cycle of upgrades. What was considered top-tier gear just a year ago is quickly replaced by the next expensive innovation, creating a manufactured sense of urgency to buy in or be left behind.
This shift marginalizes runners who can’t afford the latest gear, despite the fact that trail running has historically been about making do with what you have. The sport has never been about looking the part—it’s about getting out there, feeling the dirt under your feet, and running. By emphasizing gear over grit, we risk turning trail running into an exclusive club rather than an open invitation to explore the wild on foot.
3. The Sports Nutrition Industry’s Exclusivity Game
Once upon a time, trail runners fueled on peanut butter sandwiches, gummy bears, and flat cola. Now, sports nutrition brands aggressively market $5-per-gel super-carb formulas, positioning them as essential for peak performance. And fueling isn’t just about the brands anymore—it’s about the experience of buying them. Enter "The Need," the online supercenter for endurance nutrition. What was once a place to explore an array of nutrition options and get some helpful advice has morphed into a megastore of every brand imaginable, bombarding runners with daily emails about the latest ketone mix, electrolyte formula, mega-carb gel, recovery blend, or Jammin’ Jornet energy powder that is, of course, a "game changer."
I've heard the term "game changer" so much I'm dizzy, and let's not even get into how many times I've been asked to join a club, subscription, VIP list, or points builder. The messaging is clear: if you want to be part of the ‘real’ trail running community, you must buy in—literally. And then, buy in again next month. These products are often promoted through elite athletes on social media, subtly suggesting that using traditional, inexpensive nutrition makes one less of a ‘serious’ runner.
4. Social Media and the Elite Illusion
Instagram and other platforms have amplified the commercialization of trail running, turning elite sponsorships into aspirational content designed to drive sales. What used to be funny reels of people face-planting into creek crossings, getting lost and emerging from the woods hours later looking feral, or struggling to eat an entire burrito at an aid station have now turned into ads for carbon-plated trail shoes, $5-per-gel fueling plans, and "must-run" luxury races by the 10-second mark. Runners are bombarded with posts featuring sponsored athletes wearing the latest gear, using specific brands, and promoting high-cost races. This manufactured culture fosters a sense of inadequacy among everyday runners, as if their experiences on the trails are less legitimate without premium gear, nutrition, or race entries.
Reclaiming Trail Running’s True Spirit
The good news? The soul of trail running isn’t lost—it’s just being drowned out by the noise of marketing, branding, and 'must-have' everything. But we still have the power to steer the culture back toward what it has always been at its best: real, raw, and welcoming. Trail running has given many of us emotional healing, physical strength, deep friendships, and a sense of identity we didn’t know we needed. If we want that to remain accessible to the next wave of trail runners, we need to actively protect and nurture it.
Let’s change the narrative—not just resist commercialization, but actively promote what we want to see more of: shared miles, affordable races, dirtbag joy, and a community that’s rich in spirit, not in status symbols. And let’s protect the small race companies striving to keep that authenticity alive—those who put community first, keep costs manageable, and remember why we started running trails in the first place.
Take the free running groups all over our region. These aren’t advertised with slick social campaigns or elite sponsorships. They’re spread by word-of-mouth, held together by the kind of people who show up in all kinds of weather simply because they love the sport. Groups like TNT Run Club, which I lead, Vantucky Trail Runners, and RGC's weekly road runs all welcome runners of any pace or experience level. They’re about connection, not credentials.
And then there are the local race companies(like these in my area) still doing it right—companies like Bivouac, GoBeyond and Alpine Racing. Bivouac keeps race costs low, offers small fields with inclusive cutoff times, and still gives you the kind of race director who’ll high-five you across the finish line while the race director’s parents are cooking burgers for your post-race lunch. GoBeyond? You’ll be handed your finisher pint glass by the RD themselves and they will be there, all day, to greet each and every finisher who comes across that finish line whether your finish time was 5 hours or 12. These are races where you feel like a participant, not a customer. Companies like these give back to the trails with volunteer hours, community involvement, and events that are inclusive of every pace and every goal.
This is what preserving the soul of trail running looks like in practice: showing up, inviting others in, keeping it simple, and giving back.
Seek out and support local races, Fat Ass-style runs, and community-driven events that prioritize the experience over profit. Many of these races still exist, organized by runners for runners, often with affordable entry fees and a focus on inclusivity.
Embrace Simplicity in Nutrition and Gear
Trail running has never required a $200 pair of shoes or $5 energy gels. Gummy bears, bananas, PB&Js, and trail mix have fueled countless runners to the finish line. Instead of chasing the latest sports science trend, trust what works for you. Similarly, resist the pressure to constantly upgrade gear when your current setup works just fine.
Foster Community Outside of Corporate Influence
The best parts of trail running—group runs, post-run hangs, and shared adventure—don’t require a sponsor’s approval. Organize your own meetups, volunteer at races, or create inclusive spaces that emphasize shared experience over financial investment. Do your part to invite the runners, the walkers, the hikers, and the trail photo takers. We are all part of this community.
Speak Up About the Changing Culture
Brands and race organizations need feedback from the people they serve. If entry fees are getting out of hand, let them know. If marketing campaigns make trail running feel exclusive rather than welcoming, call it out. Speak up through volunteer work. If you're going to race, vote for local with your dollars. If you're not interested in spending money on racing, vote with your time. We shape the culture of our sport, and pushing for inclusivity over elitism can shift the tide.
Conclusion: Keep the Trails for Everyone
Trail running started as an open, welcoming, and inclusive sport. It was built on the backs of runners who wanted nothing more than to spend time in nature, push their limits, and share the journey with others. We don’t need expensive gear, luxury-priced races, or influencer-approved nutrition to be part of this community. By staying true to the roots of trail running, supporting grassroots efforts, and rejecting unnecessary commercialization, we can ensure that our sport remains what it was always meant to be: an accessible, joyful, and shared experience.
