Photo Credit: oasis magazine

Something has shifted in Nigerian cities. If you’re paying attention, you’ll notice it on Saturday mornings when groups of young people gather in matching colours, phones strapped to their arms, ready to clock miles together. You’ll see it in the Strava notifications flooding your timeline, in conversations that now include phrases like “personal best” and “5K splits.” Running, once the domain of hardcore fitness enthusiasts and professional athletes, has become the new cool among Nigerian youths.

For the last couple of years, the gym has been the go-to for fitness. Strength training mainly builds muscle and metabolic health, whilst running focuses on cardiovascular endurance. Ideally, you’d do both. But with gym subscription fees climbing higher and higher, many young Nigerians are choosing the more accessible option: running. You don’t need a monthly membership. Just your trainers and the willingness to show up. The barrier to entry is low, the rewards are high.

The run club phenomenon has taken hold across the country. Every weekend, groups convene at designated meeting points, ready to run together. Beyond the fitness sessions, they’re social events with networking opportunities and therapy sessions disguised as cardio. The energy is infectious. There’s laughter, banter, encouragement, and a shared understanding that everyone started somewhere. No one cares if you’re doing 3K or 10K. The point is that you showed up. Friendships form. Business connections happen. Run clubs have become communities where people find genuine connection in cities that can feel isolating despite their density.

And then there’s Strava. The app has become ubiquitous among young Nigerians. It’s about community validation, seeing your friends hit their goals, and the friendly competition on segment leaderboards. You finish a run, upload it, and within minutes, people are cheering you on. It’s turned running into a social experience even when you’re running alone.

Beyond the social aspect, Nigerian youths are discovering that running offers mental clarity. In a country where economic pressure is relentless, and anxiety about the future is constant, running has become a moving meditation. It’s time away from screens, from the endless scroll of bad news. Just you, your thoughts, your breath, music or a podcast, and the rhythm of your feet.

People talk about “runner’s high,” but many are finding something more sustainable: routine, discipline, and proof that you can set a goal and achieve it. In a society where so much feels out of your control, running gives you agency. You decide how far, how fast, when to push and when to ease off.

The Access Bank Lagos City Marathon, taking place this weekend, is a perfect example of how running has grown. What was once a niche event now attracts young Nigerians who register months in advance, train for it, and treat it as a must-do on their calendars. It’s become a cultural marker, a flex to say “I ran the Lagos Marathon.”

What’s particularly refreshing about running culture is how it’s redefining what “fitness goals” look like for young Nigerians. Aesthetics do not really matter; it’s about starting and finishing. There’s nowhere to hide, because the distance is straightforward and you know when you’re up for it and when you’re not.

Running has also become a way to reclaim public spaces. Nigerian cities aren’t exactly designed for pedestrians, let alone runners. But the running community is out there anyway, navigating traffic, finding routes, creating maps, making the city theirs in a way it wasn’t before. It’s a quiet form of activism, a statement that says: we belong here, we’re using these streets, and we’re building community in the gaps.

As more young Nigerians lace up their trainers and hit the road, they’re chasing fitness, clarity, community, and control in a country that often offers none of those things. Running has become the new cool, not because it’s trendy, but because it works. It offers something real in a time when so much feels performative.

So if you see groups of young people running through your neighbourhood on Saturday mornings, it might be your cue to join in, because it’s a movement, and it’s only getting started.