Gwen. Your feet conquer forests and cityscapes alike. Your average run distance is approximately 7.45645 miles. You are white Usain Bolt.

We love you.

When your limber legs kiss the pavement, you are no longer a woman. No longer a Procurement & Process Strategist at Salesforce. No longer a cruise ship DJ’s ex-girlfriend banned from Jamba Juice. You are a runner. A fighter. And you’re skinny. So skinny when you run. The skinniest. You could vanish in a slight breeze. But you mustn’t. There’s a run to log, Gwen. Strava or it didn’t happen, Gwen.

You know they whisper contemptuously at your Instagram stories? They’re jealous. They gasp at how you ran for an hour and twenty six minutes at 6:14 P.M. on Tuesday. “She didn’t take any breaks?” they exclaim, bitter and enthralled. You didn’t. Not you. Not Gwen. They’re wondering if it’s a new personal record. But you’re coy, Gwen. You simply type “kinda getting a hang of this running thing” and it just fucking works. Bashful. Mysterious. Sexy. Skinny. Gwen.

As you pillage a fresh trail, drink its intoxicating rush, you don’t even think about Dereck. He’s probably back from his cruise, but what do you care? That’s right, you don’t. Just because Strava’s Friends Feature allows users to connect, follow, and engage with others to build a fitness community, doesn’t mean you need to use it! But you can view details like their map, pace, and distance with one seamless click of a button. The app’s minimalist interface does make it titillatingly user-friendly, doesn’t it?

Huh. That’s weird. His Strava Heatmap indicates he’s been running locally. You used to have to drag him to runs. You thought it’d be like a fun couples thing. But he was so ridiculously resistant ‘cause everything with him just had to be a fucking fight–

That’s okay. Just hydrate yourself with your Owala FreeSip Twist bottle! A fitting, glorious trophy from the Strava x Owala sponsored challenge. That you bodied. Bodied, Gwen. Just another reward for all that sweet, sweet running. Yeah, take a sip. Shake it off, Gwen. You feel so good. You run so fast and just so much.

Ding. Strava notification, yay! Let’s see which pathetic loser uploaded a puny sub-five mile “run.” Oh. Dereck. It probably wouldn’t hurt to click on the Strava Labs Flyby Tool to locate nearby riders or runners. And do a brisk jog to his location. You wouldn’t want to lose your daily Strava streak, would you? It’s not stalking, it’s Strava! And you’re Gwen.

Oh holy shit you’re in Strava zone 5 now, aren’t you, Gwen? You’re at that seductive 90-100% heart rate, utilizing an intense, anaerobic effort useful for boosting VO2 max and speed? You know it should only be used sparingly. You know it’s unsuitable for daily training. But you’re bad. You’re at the intersection of perspiration and inspiration. You were never gonna do a brisk fucking jog! You’re Gwen. You’re skinny. You’re in the top 2% of Strava Activity Frequency in your zip code.

You stretch when you see Dereck. Of course you do! You’re a badass with a cool down routine and a runner’s high that makes you want to ruin his life… and yours. Whoa.

Suddenly, you want to kiss him as he spins tracks for that Jamaican Cruise. Suddenly, it’s lonely procuring and strategizing Salesforce processes alone. Suddenly, with him, you just feel it: Hoka shoes on top of each other, happily ever after.

But he’s met someone. And you’re in Strava zone 5 again, now for all the wrong reasons. He says they’ve been going to Jamba Juice a lot. Which is totally fine even though it’s the one thing you can’t do. But you know what you can do, Gwen? Run.

And so you do. Goodbye Dereck. And go, Gwen, go! Run. But when you log this one, tears streaming down your skinny, skinny face, remember: we love you.

We at Strava see you, Gwen.