Stop buying running shoes because an Instagram influencer told you to
I spent $250 to lose three toenails in Prospect Park back in 2019. It was a humid Saturday morning, and I was wearing a pair of Nike Vaporflys that I’d bought because I saw a sub-two-hour marathoner wearing them on YouTube. Halfway through mile ten, I felt a warm, squelching sensation in my right shoe. I thought it was just sweat. It wasn’t. By the time I hobbled back to my apartment, my white socks were soaked crimson. The shoes were fast, sure, but they were built for a pro athlete’s foot, not my wide, flat, mid-pack stompers. I felt like an idiot. I was an idiot.
Since then, I’ve become obsessed with finding the best running shoes brands, not by reading press releases, but by actually putting in the miles. I work a normal job, I have a mortgage, and I don’t have time for gear that breaks after 100 miles. Most of what you read online is just recycled marketing copy. This isn’t that. This is just me, my credit card statements, and a lot of blisters.
Nike is basically the Apple of running (and that’s a bad thing)
Look, I know everyone loves the swoosh. But we need to talk about the quality control. I’ve owned four pairs of Pegasus over the last three years, and the consistency is non-existent. One pair feels like floating on clouds; the next feels like I’m strapped to a couple of 2x4s. What I mean is—actually, let me put it differently: Nike treats us like lab rats for their foam experiments.
Their high-end racing shoes are incredible for exactly 50 miles. After that? The foam felt like a stale croissant—crunchy on the outside but collapses into nothing when you actually put weight on it. If you’re a pro, fine. But for a guy like me who just wants to run a 5K without his knees exploding, Nike is often a waste of money. I honestly think their quality control team is just three guys in a basement who haven’t run a mile since 2012. Total trash.
Nike is great if you want to look cool at a post-run brunch, but if you’re actually training for a marathon, you’re paying a 30% tax just for the logo.
I tracked every mile for a year and Saucony won
I might be wrong about this, but I think Saucony is the most underrated brand on the planet right now. Last year, I decided to be a giant nerd and track the wear on my soles with a digital caliper. I tested six pairs over the course of the year. I put 432 miles on a pair of Saucony Ride 15s. I measured the lug depth every Sunday. They started at 4mm and ended at 1.2mm, but the cushioning stayed remarkably consistent. Most shoes feel “dead” by mile 300. These kept their bounce until the very end.
They aren’t flashy. They look like shoes your dad would wear to mow the lawn. But they work. I’ve run through three New York winters in the Endorphin series, and they’ve never let me down. They are the workhorse of the industry. Just buy them.
The Hoka clown shoe problem
I know people will disagree, but I cannot stand Hoka. I refuse to wear them. I don’t care if they have “maximalist cushioning” or whatever buzzword they’re using this week. To me, they look like orthopedic shoes for clowns. It’s like trying to run a marathon in those platform sneakers the Spice Girls used to wear in the 90s.
I tried the Bondi 8s because my physical therapist practically begged me to. I lasted two weeks. I felt disconnected from the ground, like I was hovering six inches above the pavement. It’s a weird, unstable sensation that made my ankles feel like they were made of jelly. Plus, they are so wide that I kept clipping my own ankles while running. Maybe I’m just clumsy. Anyway, I ended up giving them to my cousin who uses them for walking his dog. He loves them. I hate them. Never again.
Speaking of things I hate, can we talk about On Running for a second? Those little clouds on the bottom? They are rock magnets. I spent half a run in Central Park last October stopping every ten minutes to dig gravel out of my soles with a stick. It’s a fundamentally flawed design. I actively tell my friends to avoid them unless they only plan on running on pristine indoor tracks. Which nobody does.
New Balance is actually fine
They are the middle of the road. Reliable. A bit boring, but they won’t ruin your life. The 1080 series is the only shoe I’ve ever bought four times in a row without even thinking about it. I don’t care if something better exists; I know they won’t give me blisters. Worth every penny.
The part about Brooks being boring
People call Brooks the “Toyota Camry” of running shoes. It’s meant as an insult, but I used to think that was a compliment. I was completely wrong. A Camry is reliable. Brooks, lately, has just felt… stagnant. I bought the Ghost 15s last year, and they felt identical to the Ghost 12s I had in 2019. There’s no innovation. It’s like they found a formula that works for people who run once a month and they’re terrified to change it.
I went on a tangent the other day with a guy at the local running shop (shoutout to the guy at Brooklyn Running Co who tolerated me) about how Brooks is losing the plot. They’re becoming a lifestyle brand for people who want to look like they run. It’s frustrating because the Adrenaline used to be my go-to stability shoe. Now? It feels heavy and unresponsive. I’m done with them until they actually try something new.
I guess what I’m saying is that there is no “best” brand, but there are definitely brands that have stopped trying. We’re in this weird era where everyone is chasing the carbon-plate trend, even for daily trainers where it makes zero sense. Why do I need a carbon plate to go buy a bagel? I don’t.
I still think about those $250 Nikes sometimes. They’re sitting in the back of my closet, covered in old blood stains. Every time I think about buying a pair of shoes because they look cool in a photo, I look at those Nikes. Then I go buy another pair of Sauconys. It’s not glamorous, but my feet don’t bleed anymore. Is that enough? I honestly don’t know.