Strava Local Legends Reward Consistency, Not Speed. So Why Separate Them by Gender?

Some runners always need a race on their calendar to help structure their training.I, too, tend to languish when I don’t have a running goal. But I don’t need a race to give me purpose, because I’ve got Strava segments.Sure, I’ve done my share of segment hunting. (For those who aren’t addicted to Strava like me, this involves planning your workout around getting on the leaderboard of a segment, which means you have one of the top 10 fastest times.) But my preferred Strava achievement is one that’s less about speed and more about pure dedication: The Local Legend, or the “laurel crown” that goes to the runner who has run a segment the most times in the past 90 days.There’s a sense of pride that comes with knowing that I own the segments on my home turf in my neighborhood, and I keep close watch on them to make sure no one surpasses me. I also get a sick pleasure from snagging a Local Legend when I’m traveling and come across a neglected segment (and I’m very much not above repeating a segment a few extra times to make it happen). There’s also the thrill of receiving the email notification that you’ve become a Local Legend—and knowing that someone else has received notice that they’ve been dethroned.But whereas it makes sense to me that segment leaderboards are organized by gender (in addition to an all-time leaderboard for all athletes), the way the app handles Local Legends has always puzzled me. There’s the outright Local Legend, who has run the segment more times than any other athlete. I’ve got some of those in my Strava trophy case, but for others, I’ve only achieved the status of women’s Local Legend, an accolade that does not have an equivalent for men.If women get to have their own Local Legend status, why not men, too? And why do Local Legends need to be gendered at all?I asked Strava for some insight on this, and they shared this comment: “The original goal for the Local Legends feature was to enable a new type of segment competition to support a growing population of users. We're continuing to assess our segment leaderboards as user needs shift.”While their response doesn’t illuminate much, it does suggest that there may have been good intentions around giving women our own Local Legend status. Perhaps it was seen as a way of better including women, or celebrating women’s achievements.To me, it feels a bit condescending. It also feels wholly unnecessary, considering racking up Local Legends is more about how much you run than how fast you run, and some data in the running industry suggests that women are running even more than men. For instance, the majority of participants in road running events are women, as they have been for many years now. From a volume perspective, women are keeping up with men: Just look at the recent instances of women winning ultramarathons outright, or data that suggests that the performance gap between men and women gets smaller as races get longer.But maybe it’s not that simple—maybe there are ways that men could have an advantage. According to Running USA’s 2025 Global Runner Survey, more men (30.1 percent) identify as "competitive" than women (16.3 percent) when it comes to running, which could make them more likely to want to chase down something like a Local Legend. Men do more solo running (80.4 percent) than women (70.5 percent), which likely lends itself better to maintaining a Local Legend than running with a group or club, which women are more likely to do. While women are more than capable of running longer distances, they’re more likely to prefer 10Ks and half marathons, whereas more men (19.19 percent) report that the marathon is their favorite distance, as opposed to only 12.6 percent of women.There’s also what’s known as the free-time gender gap, in which women have an average of 13 percent less leisure time than men for activities like running thanks to the unequal burden of household work, childcare, and caring for aging parents. Plus, faster runners can rack up mileage more easily, which could give men an edge when it comes to Local Legends.Maybe all that adds up to mean that—at least in Strava’s eyes—a women’s Local Legend still makes sense? While I find it condescending, I imagine other women value that feature, and I don’t want to advocate for taking away anyone’s achievements. (I also imagine that Strava wants to avoid the angry emails that could result from such a decision.)Perhaps the easiest solution would be to give men their own Local Legend status, too. But I can’t help but think about the ways in which adding more gendered categories to Strava takes away a rare opportunity for athletes to compete on a playing field where your gender and your speed aren’t so relevant. (For nonbinary runners who often must race in a division that doesn’t actually align with how they identify, a competition that’s truly free of gender categories could be particularly meaningful.)For now, even though half of the Local Legends in my trophy case feel like consolation prizes, I’ll still be admiring them, chasing down more, and feeling extra proud when I know that a man has been notified that I’ve taken his laurel crown.Lauren Wingenroth is a freelance writer covering fitness, running, sports, the performing arts, and more. A former editor of Dance Magazine, her work has appeared in The New York Times, GQ, Outside, SELF, PS, ESPN, Well+ Good, Playbill, American Theater, and other outlets. She is a graduate of Barnard College, Columbia University, a marathoner, and a North Carolinian.