"Running Isn't My Hobby. It's My Medicine."
I didn't have time to run, let alone do strength work.
Two years of injuries changed my mind.
When you go from barely running 1km to comfortably finishing 10km, there's a moment where you think: "I'm actually a runner now."
Around that time, I stumbled across a term on YouTube: strength training for runners.
My immediate reaction?
"By the time I get dressed, run 10km, and get home, an hour and a half is gone. And now I'm supposed to do strength work on top of that? I barely have time to run."
Just like that, strength training disappeared from my routine.
Looking back, the injuries didn't appear out of nowhere.
When 10km was my regular distance, I was brimming with confidence — a tadpole who thought he was a shark. One beautiful day, I decided to try 20km. It felt like pushing my limits. My knee buckled almost immediately.
Back then I was running solo, so I had no real ambition. I rested without much worry.
The real trouble started when I joined a running club.
Running alone, I thought I was decent. At the club, I realized I was the slowest one there. Every group session humbled me. I watched in awe as experienced runners made it look effortless.
I worked my way through a half marathon, then a 32km race. Eight months after joining, I lined up for my first full marathon — chasing a sub-4 finish.
"Why would anyone get injured just from running?" I used to wonder. I genuinely couldn't understand it. Then I became that person.
I tried running right after the injury. Couldn't make it 300 meters without limping. Tried again at 5km, then 10km — limping every time. It took five months before I could manage 15km again.
During that stretch, I thought about quitting running altogether. Every kind of doubt crept in.
A year later, I attempted a 100km ultra. Four more months of suffering followed.
For nearly two years, the cycle repeated: injury, recovery, another injury.
Did I think about strength training during any of that?
Not once.
This year, I changed my approach.
In April, I ran a full marathon with one goal: finish without getting hurt. I crossed the line at 4:24. It was the first time since my injuries that I completed a marathon unscathed.
Then came the Cheongnamdae 100km ultra. Brutal — but I finished without injury.
The finish itself felt good. But what felt even better was lacing up a few days later and running like it was any normal day.
Being able to run again within days of a race — I used to take that for granted. After two years of not having it, I realized how extraordinary it actually is.
Once I started running injury-free, the ambition came creeping back.
Sub-4 marathon felt like the floor now — I wanted 3:30. I wanted to finish my next ultra without as much suffering. I wanted to get into trail running.
But every time the ambition rose, so did the fear.
I watch club members whose performance is skyrocketing, and I quietly worry for them. But I can't exactly walk up to someone who's fully committed and say, "Be careful." Not everyone gets injured. It feels wrong to be the negative voice.
So I talk to myself instead.
"Hwayoung — watch yourself when the hunger kicks in. One injury means months off the road. Your fitness goes backward. Your head goes backward. Be careful when the ambition rises."
Then a thought hit me.
Is being careful actually enough? Maybe what I need isn't caution — maybe I need to build a body that doesn't break.
And just like that, strength training resurfaced. The same thing I'd dismissed on YouTube years ago.
As I started researching again, one thing that had always confused me finally clicked. Not all running-adjacent exercises serve the same purpose.
| 🏃 Running Drills | 🛡️ Strength Training |
|---|---|
| In a word"Movement practice to run better" | In a word"Muscle work to run longer without injury" |
| PurposeForm, rhythm, footstrike, efficiency | PurposeStrength, stability, endurance under fatigue |
| ExamplesSkips, bounding, running ABCs | Key areasKnees, hips, core, ankles |
| OutcomeBetter running form, faster times | OutcomeInjury prevention, fatigue resistance |
Drills always looked cooler to me. They felt more like "real runner" stuff, and they seemed directly connected to performance.
But after repeating the injury cycle, I finally understood why experienced runners kept talking about strength training.
Drills are for running better.
Strength work is for running longer.
What I needed wasn't to run better. It was to keep running at all.
I got lucky.
In our running club, I've noticed a pattern. Members improve rapidly after joining — and then, right around the point where running becomes almost addictive, injuries start showing up.
Right at that inflection point, our club president suggested we start doing drills together. Last Sunday, I tried it for the first time.
It was more strength work than drill work, honestly. A hundred reps of each exercise. My legs were shaking before we even started running.
Two, three days later, the soreness still hadn't faded.
"I thought my legs were strong from all those years of running. But if I'm this sore, there must have been a lot of weak spots I didn't know about."
"Maybe those weak spots are exactly why I kept getting injured."
I'll be honest. For years, my thinking went like this:
"Why spend 30 minutes on strength work when I could run another 5km instead?"
"Stretching? I don't even have time to run."
It took two years of injuries to bring me back here.
All those things experienced runners kept saying — do your drills, do your strength work — I treated it like advice meant for someone else. I know better now.
The thing I should have prioritized over running itself.
I think it might just be a body that can show up again tomorrow.