I'm hooked on Strava and I don't care who knows about it

This article is part of a series called ‘A love letter to…’, where Cycling Weekly writers pour praise on their favourite aspects of cycling. The below content is unfiltered, authentic and has not been paid for.

I’ve noticed a trend these days of people distancing themselves from social media. “X is a cesspit,” one friend recently told me, deploring his feed’s shift to extreme, offensive views. Meta, the owner of Instagram and Facebook, has come under scrutiny too, last week apologising for subjecting users to videos of violence and gore. And though I’ve never dabbled in TikTok, people I know who use it say it’s taking hours out of their day – hours dedicated to watching horses have their hooves cleaned, for example – time they’d have rather spent elsewhere.

Look, I’m all for taking a step back from social media. But there’s one app I refuse to live without: it’s orange, exercise-based, and I’ve recently moved it to the prized ‘dock’ position at the bottom of my phone screen, meaning it’s never out of my sight. I’m talking about Strava, of course, an app to which I think I might be addicted, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

I’ll tell you what I like about Strava. While other social media sites are plagued with hostile content, Strava is an oasis of good vibes. I tap into its warm, orange glow, and discover my friend’s 65-year-old mother has been out for a “sunny jog”, a 6km canter through the countryside. How wonderful, I smile. My kudos to you, Sue.

I scroll down a little more. An ex-colleague has been out on a 70km cycling loop – he found it tough, he writes, but he had a jolly good time. I then dig further, and lose myself searching through people’s profiles. I stumble across an old school acquaintance, who’s now an avid cyclist, and is training for an Ironman. It turns out he comfortably averages over 30km/h on the bike. I’m pleased for him, if a little jealous.

When I click off Strava, I tend to leave feeling inspired, which I can’t say for many apps on my phone.

The difference, I think, is that while other social media platforms show a radical portrait of life, a scene of excesses and extremes, Strava is rooted to the real world. These are people I know, looking to improve their wellbeing, and smelling the roses as they do so. I’m always happy to commend them for it.

I’ll admit, it’s nice when they commend me as well, but I don’t obsess over the kudos. Instead, as I wait to get my breath back after a ride or run, I spend 10 minutes or so poring over the data of my activity. I look at my heart rate, my splits, power and speed. This practice has brought me in tune with my body, teaching me more about myself than any GCSE Biology textbook ever did, although that’s perhaps a reflection on my teenage attention span.

It's not just the data that's got me hooked. When I go abroad, I use the maps tool to find routes in places I've never explored. These are curated from the app's 135 million users (Strava prefers to call them "athletes"), and I'm often spoiled for choice for paths to follow. Last year, for example, I tested a route out in France's Vosges mountains, and it ended up being one of the best bike rides I've ever had. My dad couldn't believe I'd found it so easily.

Some turn their noses up at Strava. You might even be one of them. They say comparing yourself to others is unhealthy, as is the constant pursuit of personal bests, and dopamine-seeking boost of kudos. I care very little for those things. But if I did, I’d encourage the naysayers to mind their own business.

I will say one bad thing about Strava, though. A few years ago at the Tour de France Femmes avec Zwift, I was given a free pair of Strava-branded sliders – one-strapped flip flops – and they rubbed so badly they drew blood on the tops of my feet. I didn’t press any charges, but I’ve since thrown the sliders out. Stick to making exercise apps, Strava, I think you’ve got a knack for it.