The High Cost of Cancel Culture in Running

8/18/2026

What is cancel culture?

Cancel culture is a form of social ostracism in which individuals, groups, or institutions face public backlash—often online—because of behavior, statements, or values that others find objectionable. The response usually involves withdrawing support, calling for consequences, or pressuring employers, brands, or communities to distance themselves from the person or entity.

The Stories We Silence: A Look at Cancel Culture

As a race director in the trail and ultra world, I’ve watched our communities do incredible things. We lift each other up in the darkest miles, celebrate strangers like family, and build spaces where people feel seen in ways they never have before. But I’ve also watched something else take root something quieter, sharper, and far more damaging than any steep climb or brutal cutoff. Cancel culture has crept into our sport, and it’s reshaping the running world in ways we can’t afford to ignore.

Cancel Culture: Justice or Judgment?

Running communities are intimate by nature. We don’t just share miles; we share vulnerability, identity, and belonging. So when conflict hits, it doesn’t just bruise it breaks. And in local scenes across the country, cancellation rarely looks like the explosive online takedowns we associate with the term. It’s subtler: someone suddenly unwelcome at group runs, a volunteer who disappears because whispers replaced conversations, a leader quietly pushed out without explanation. It’s exile by silence.

Globally, the stakes get even higher. Athletes, race directors, influencers, and brands operate under a microscope. One misstep a clumsy post, a misunderstood comment, a past mistake resurfacing can ignite a firestorm. Sometimes that fire burns away real harm and forces overdue accountability. But other times, it scorches everything in sight, leaving no room for nuance, growth, or redemption. When leaders feel they must perform perfection instead of pursuing progress, the entire sport suffers.

How Cancel Culture Erodes Community Leadership

The impact on community growth is undeniable but the impact on community leaders is even more profound. Cancel culture doesn’t just shrink communities; it wears down the very people trying to build them. It scares off new runners who sense tension before they ever lace up. It fractures clubs, drains volunteer pools, and turns events into battlegrounds instead of celebrations. It forces leaders the same people pouring their time, energy, and personal lives into creating something meaningful into defensive postures instead of visionary ones.

What often gets overlooked is this: cancel culture hits leaders first and hardest. Race directors, coaches, and organizers become lightning rods for every rumor, misunderstanding, and he-said-she-said that spirals out of control. One whisper becomes a narrative. One disagreement becomes a faction. One boundary becomes an accusation. And suddenly the community you’ve spent years building is taking sides based on half-truths, screenshots, and social-media speculation.

People forget that leaders are human. They forget that we have families, jobs, and personal lives that get impacted when the online storm spills into the real world. They forget that setting boundaries isn’t cruelty it’s survival. They forget that community leadership is often unpaid, unseen, and thankless work. And they forget that the same leaders they’re quick to judge are the ones who have spent countless hours marking trails, securing permits, answering emails at midnight, and creating the very spaces people now feel entitled to tear apart.

Cancel culture throws all that work out the window. Years of trust, sweat, and service can be erased overnight by a rumor or a misinterpretation.

What remains are divisions — sides taken without research, without conversation, without curiosity. People boycott events they once loved because of something they heard third hand. They amplify drama instead of seeking clarity. They choose outrage over understanding.

But here’s the truth beneath the fire: cancel culture exists because people care. Runners want safe, inclusive spaces. They want harmful behavior addressed. They want leaders who listen. The challenge is ensuring that protection doesn’t become punishment without possibility.

If we want trail and ultra running to thrive not just survive, we need communities that balance accountability with compassion. Leaders must model transparency, conflict resolution, and forgiveness. Members must choose conversation over condemnation. And all of us must recognize that growth requires boundaries, yes, but also grace.

Trail running is about resilience. It’s about getting back up. It’s about forward motion. Our communities should reflect that. If we navigate conflict with intention instead of reaction, we won’t just avoid the damage of cancel culture we’ll build a sport that’s stronger, more connected, and far more capable of weathering whatever comes next.

A Call to Action for Every Runner

Before reacting, reposting, or choosing a side based on a screenshot or a whisper, we owe it to our community and to the people who build it to slow down. Think. Ask questions. Seek clarity. Remember that behind every race, every group run, every aid station, and every decision is a human being doing their best with limited time, limited resources, and a whole lot of heart.

If you care about this sport, protect it by refusing to fuel division. Strengthen it by choosing conversation over condemnation. And honor the people who lead, the race directors, organizers, volunteers, and coaches by giving them the same grace you’d want if the roles were reversed.

Trail and ultra running thrives when we show up for each other. Let’s show up with curiosity instead of assumptions, compassion instead of outrage, and integrity instead of impulse. The future of our sport depends on it.

In the end, the future of running won’t be shaped by who we cancel, but by who we choose to understand.

Sean Blanton

8/18/2026 07:02:52 pm

I can not love this more and agree with this more as a 2 time victim of cancel culture who has now won a lawsuit against someone responsible for spreading false rumors and statements about me!

Big MO

8/18/2026 09:49:06 pm

Why can’t we simply run, race, and enjoy the trails while treating everyone we encounter with respect—whether it’s another runner, a volunteer, a race director, or another trail user?

One of the things I’ve always appreciated about trail running is that the trail has a way of bringing people together. We don’t have to agree on politics, religion, or everything happening in the world to share a trail, encourage one another, and treat each other with kindness and respect.

If someone violates the rules or expectations of a group, then absolutely address it—but I believe it should be handled directly, fairly, and professionally with the people involved.

My concern with bringing divisive subjects into a group post like this is that, even when the intentions are good, it can create more division rather than less. I would hate to see that happen here.

We already have enough things in this world that separate us. Maybe the trail can continue to be one of those places where we leave some of that behind, respect our differences, and simply enjoy this sport and community that we all care about.

Ack

8/19/2026 08:45:52 am

I think this article asks an important question, but avoids an equally important one: At what point does “cancel culture” become accountability?

When one person has a falling out with you, that may be a misunderstanding.

When two people do, maybe it’s personalities.

But when, over many years, longtime members leave, volunteers walk away, relationships with other running groups deteriorate, and people who were once prominent supporters of your community are no longer part of it, eventually you have to consider the common denominator.

People choosing not to attend your races, volunteer for you, run with your group, or support your business isn’t necessarily “cancel culture.” Those people have agency too.

The article talks extensively about giving leaders grace, seeking clarity, having conversations instead of condemning people, and remembering how much race directors sacrifice. Those are worthwhile principles. But shouldn’t leaders owe their communities exactly the same things?

If numerous people who have actually worked with you, volunteered for you, paid to attend your events, participated in your group, hosted you on podcasts, or interacted with you as fellow members of the St. Louis running community independently reach similar conclusions over a period of years, dismissing that pattern as rumors, whispers, factions, or cancellation prevents the very self-reflection this article is asking everyone else to practice.

Maybe the most important sentence in the article is that “leaders must model transparency, conflict resolution, and forgiveness.”

I agree.

But modeling those things requires being willing to ask a much harder question:

What if everyone isn’t leaving because they failed to understand you? What if they’re leaving because of how you’ve treated them?

A healthy running community shouldn’t blindly cancel its leaders.

It shouldn’t blindly defend them either.

Accountability has to run both directions.

8/19/2026 09:23:54 am

I understand the point you’re making, but I think there’s another possibility that’s being overlooked here.

Sometimes people simply move on.

I’ve been involved in different sports and activities for a lot of years, and I’ve watched people become passionate about something for a few years and then develop other interests. That doesn’t necessarily mean there was a falling out, bad leadership, or someone who needs to be held accountable. People’s lives change. Their interests change. They look for new challenges, different groups of people, or just a different experience.

Look at tennis and pickleball. A lot of people who once spent most of their time playing tennis have moved toward pickleball and helped that sport explode in popularity. That doesn’t automatically mean tennis did something wrong. People gravitate toward what they enjoy at that point in their lives.

The same thing has happened with mountain biking, road biking, running, and plenty of other sports. I’ve also noticed that when a sport becomes extremely popular, the industry surrounding it can become expensive and commercialized. There are road and mountain bikes now that cost more than a nice motorcycle. Sometimes people simply decide they want to spend their time and money somewhere else.

Personally, I like bouncing around and doing different sports. I enjoy being around all kinds of people, but when I choose an event, I’m going to support the places where I feel comfortable and where what I’ve personally witnessed lines up with my values.

Shawnee Hills is a great example for me. The race directors and volunteers genuinely seem to care about the race and its participants, but just as importantly, they respect the Catholic camp that allows the event to take place there. Even something as simple as showing respect in the pre-race speech and being mindful of the language being used matters to me.

So when people leave a group, stop volunteering, or quit attending certain races, I wouldn’t automatically read a deeper meaning into it. Maybe there was a conflict in some cases. Maybe there wasn’t. Unless we actually know why each individual person moved on, we’re making assumptions about their motives.

Accountability absolutely should go both ways. But so should fairness. We shouldn’t automatically assume that people leaving proves someone else mistreated them any more than we should automatically dismiss someone who has a legitimate concern.

Sometimes people change. Sometimes their priorities change. Sometimes they just find somewhere else they’d rather spend their Saturday morning.

And there doesn’t always have to be a villain in that story.

Shalini Bhajjan

8/19/2026 12:31:17 pm

@ Big MO

Thank you so much for reading and for sharing this perspective — it adds an important layer to the conversation. You’re absolutely right that sometimes people simply move on. Interests shift, life circumstances change, and communities evolve. Not every departure signals conflict, mistreatment, or a deeper issue, and it’s important not to assume motives we don’t actually know.

I appreciate the examples you shared, especially how participation trends shift across sports like tennis, pickleball, cycling, and running. Those patterns really do show that people often gravitate toward whatever aligns with their values, comfort, budget, or stage of life at the moment. And your point about choosing events where the culture and respect shown — like at Shawnee Hills — matches what matters to you personally is a great reminder that people’s choices are often about alignment, not drama.

The article was meant to explore how communities respond when conflict does arise, but your comment is a valuable reminder that not every change in participation is rooted in conflict at all. Sometimes it’s just life. Sometimes it’s preference. And sometimes there truly isn’t a villain in the story.

Fairness and accountability should run both ways, as you said — and so should the willingness to acknowledge that people leave for many different reasons. Thank you again for taking the time to share your thoughts. It genuinely enriches the discussion.

Anon

8/19/2026 09:32:47 am

This!

8/19/2026 12:28:51 pm

@ Ack,

Thank you for taking the time to read the article and for sharing such a thoughtful perspective. You raise an important point about the distinction between cancel culture and accountability, and I appreciate you articulating it so clearly.

I agree that leaders owe their communities transparency, communication, and self‑reflection just as much as community members owe those things to each other. Accountability absolutely has to run both ways for any group to stay healthy. The intention of the article wasn’t to dismiss patterns or concerns, but to highlight how easily conversations can break down when assumptions replace dialogue. Your comment is a good reminder that accountability isn’t just something communities ask of leaders—it’s something leaders must actively model.

I also appreciate you pointing out that people have agency when they choose to step away. That’s true, and it matters. The hope behind writing this piece was to encourage more curiosity and conversation before those fractures become permanent, and your comment adds valuable nuance to that discussion.

Thank you again for engaging with the piece so thoughtfully and for offering a viewpoint that deepens the conversation.

8/19/2026 01:54:56 pm

@shalini, I think your responses here actually illustrate the concern people are raising.

Several people have now challenged the premise of the article in slightly different ways, and the responses follow essentially the same formula: thank the person for their thoughtful perspective, agree that accountability goes both ways, restate their argument, explain the intention of the article, and thank them for adding to the conversation.

But you're not actually answering the criticism.

You told Kurt that when longtime volunteers, running partners, and supporters leave, "that pattern matters." You said leaders have a responsibility to "sit with that data honestly." You agreed that leaders should ask themselves, "What am I not seeing?"

So do it.

What are "you" not seeing?

Have you considered that some of the people who have left Terrain over the years didn't simply "move on," weren't manipulated by rumors, and aren't participating in cancel culture?

Have you considered that some of them made an informed decision based on their own experiences with you?

That's the disconnect I have with this entire article and now with these responses. You're willing to discuss accountability as an abstract concept. You're willing to agree that leaders need self-reflection. You're willing to repeat back virtually every criticism being made.

But where is the actual self-reflection?

What have "you" done wrong?

What relationships have "you" damaged?

What would "you" do differently?

Have you reached out to longtime members or volunteers who left and genuinely asked why?

Have you considered why people who once invested significant time, money, energy, and friendship into Terrain no longer want to be associated with it?

Those aren't rhetorical "gotcha" questions. They're the questions your own article should require you to ask if its principles genuinely apply in both directions.

And respectfully, these highly polished, nearly interchangeable responses aren't dialogue. Dialogue requires engaging with the substance of what someone is saying, especially when it's uncomfortable.

You wrote an entire article asking the running community to examine its behavior toward leaders.

People are now asking you to examine your behavior as a leader.

That's not cancel culture.

That's the conversation you said you wanted.

8/19/2026 04:30:40 pm

@ Ack,

Thank you for taking the time to write all of this — it’s clear you put a lot of thought into your response. I want to address a few things directly so there’s no misunderstanding.

First, when someone comments under a name that isn’t their own, it’s hard to know who I’m actually speaking with or whether the concerns are grounded in real experience. That makes genuine dialogue difficult from the start.

Second, the blog was never meant to single out any one person or group, nor does it claim that I’m an expert on cancel culture or community dynamics. It’s simply a viewpoint — one shaped by many conversations with race directors, industry leaders, and my own experiences over the years. Things in this sport are rarely black and white, and the article was written to explore that gray space where we keep an open mind and set judgment aside.

It seems you’ve interpreted the piece as a personal indictment or an attempt to avoid accountability, and that’s not the context in which it was written. The questions you’re raising about Terrain, about me personally, and about past relationships are not actually the subject of the blog — they’re part of your own ongoing concerns, which you’re now projecting onto the article. That’s unfortunate to see, but it also tells me the piece struck a chord.

I didn’t realize you held me in such high regard that you expected a full accounting of my leadership decisions or personal history in response to a general blog post. I’m sorry you feel this way, but the blog wasn’t written as a memoir, nor as a public audit of Terrain or my past interactions. It was written to spark reflection — and clearly it has, because you’re here, engaging deeply, and dissecting every line.

If the article prompted you to think, react, or question, then it did its job. I appreciate your input, even if it’s delivered with a bit of personal edge, and I appreciate the time you’ve spent reading, analyzing, and responding — including the energy you’ve put into combing through the website.

Thank you again for engaging, truly.

Anonymous

8/19/2026 10:15:32 am

I think this article would be strengthened by providing examples on when people were canceled in the sport.

8/19/2026 12:32:49 pm

@ Anonymous

Thank you for reading and for sharing this suggestion — I really appreciate you taking the time to engage with the piece. You’re right that including specific examples could strengthen the discussion. Concrete moments from the sport, whether they involved athletes, race directors, brands, or community members, would help illustrate how complex these situations can be and how differently “cancellation” and accountability can look depending on the context.

The intention behind the article was to focus on patterns and dynamics rather than individual cases, but I agree that grounding those ideas in real scenarios could make the conversation more tangible and relatable. It’s a helpful point, and something I’ll keep in mind as I continue exploring this topic.

Thanks again for offering your perspective — it adds to the dialogue in a meaningful way.

8/19/2026 01:42:05 pm

I'm glad you agree. I think we need to point out the examples since "how differently 'cancellation' and accountability can look depending on the context" - In my opinion, without bringing up examples, we cannot have much of a discussion on this.

"The intention behind the article was to focus on patterns and dynamics rather than individual cases" - With that goal in mind, I would argue it takes at least a few examples to point out a pattern.

Thanks!

8/19/2026 04:36:42 pm

@ Anonymous,

To clarify, this blog was never written to single out any one race director, company, or individual. It’s a broad reflection on cancel culture within the running community and the pitfalls that come with it. That’s the entire scope.

You’re asking for examples, but none were included because the piece wasn’t meant to dissect specific situations or people. It was meant to explore a general pattern of behavior — one that has come up repeatedly in conversations I’ve had with race directors, volunteers, and industry leaders. This wasn’t intended as an exposé or a case study, just a viewpoint meant to spark thought.

I understand your point that examples can help illustrate patterns, but that wasn’t the purpose of this particular blog. It wasn’t written to build a debate around specific incidents, and without those, there really isn’t further discussion to be had on “actual matters.”

And to be candid, meaningful dialogue happens between real people. When someone chooses to comment anonymously, it’s hard to know who I’m speaking with or whether the concerns are grounded in real experience. That makes true back‑and‑forth nearly impossible.

I appreciate your feedback and the time you took to comment. Thanks again for reading.

Kurt Schilling

8/19/2026 10:43:59 am

Ack raises the point this piece needs to sit with: there's a real difference between being canceled and facing the natural consequences of how you've treated people.

The article asks everyone else to lead with curiosity, grace, and self-reflection before judging a leader. That's a fair standard. But it should cut both ways. If a leader is asking their community to pause and ask "what am I not seeing?" before taking a side, shouldn't the leader be willing to ask that same question about themselves when the pattern is years long and the people leaving aren't strangers? They're volunteers, running partners, and former supporters who gave real time, money, and loyalty first.

One falling-out is a misunderstanding. A slow, steady exodus of people who used to be all-in isn't a whisper campaign, it's data. Treating every departure as "cancel culture" or "rumors" is its own kind of avoidance, because it never requires asking the harder question: what did I do that made this many people, independently, reach the same conclusion?

Grace matters. So does honesty. A community that only extends grace upward to its leaders, and never asks leaders to extend accountability downward to the people they've hurt, isn't modeling the balance this article claims to want. Accountability has to run both directions, or it isn't accountability at all.

8/19/2026 12:34:16 pm

@ Kurt Schilling

Thank you for reading and for taking the time to share such a thoughtful perspective. You’re raising an important distinction that absolutely deserves space in this conversation—the difference between being “canceled” and experiencing the natural consequences of how people have felt treated over time.

I agree that curiosity, grace, and self‑reflection can’t only be asked of the community; they have to be practiced by leaders as well. When people who were once deeply involved—volunteers, running partners, supporters—step away over a long period, that pattern matters. It isn’t something to dismiss, and it shouldn’t be reduced to rumors or whispers. As you said, it’s data, and leaders have a responsibility to sit with that data honestly.

The intention of the article wasn’t to suggest that every departure is cancel culture, but to highlight how easily conversations can collapse into assumptions on all sides. Your comment is a valuable reminder that leaders also need to pause and ask, “What am I not seeing?”—especially when the people leaving aren’t strangers but individuals who once invested their time, energy, and trust.

Grace and accountability really do have to run in both directions for a community to stay healthy. I appreciate you bringing that balance forward so clearly. Thank you again for engaging with the piece and adding depth to the discussion.

Unknown

8/19/2026 02:23:27 pm

It’s tough to have a real conversation here when the piece lacks material. Instead, both the article and the formulaic comment replies feel sanitized... like they were generated by ChatGPT. Using robots to create text about humanity feels pretty ironic, especially since they effectively just deflect the concerns being raised either in the comments or possibly the original topic.

8/19/2026 04:42:48 pm

@ Unknown,

Thanks for sharing your perspective — I hear what you’re saying. You’re right that real discussion happens when people choose to show up with their actual identities. When someone comments as “unknown,” it’s hard to know who I’m speaking with, what their connection is, or whether the concerns are grounded in real experience. Honest dialogue requires transparency, and anonymity makes that nearly impossible.

As for the blog itself, it wasn’t written to single out any particular industry leader, race director, or company. It’s a broad reflection on cancel culture in the running community — the patterns, the pitfalls, and the gray areas that come up in conversations with many people across the industry. It’s not meant to be an exposé, a case study, or a list of examples. It’s simply a viewpoint.

You mentioned the writing feeling “sanitized” or “ChatGPT‑generated.” If you’re that confident in your copy‑editing skills, perhaps using your real name would make it easier for me to send you future drafts for review. At least then I’d know who I’m talking to, and we could have a genuine conversation rather than one clouded by anonymity and personal vendetta.

But as it stands, there really isn’t much more to discuss. The blog doesn’t present specific cases, so there’s nothing to debate at that level. You’ve offered your feedback, and I appreciate you taking the time to read, comment, and critique — even if the tone leans more toward spite than dialogue.

Thanks again for engaging.

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The High Cost of Cancel Culture in Running

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