10 years ago, I had winter running gear and summer running gear. In the winter, I wore long pants; in the aummer, shorts. There was an order to things. For a few years now, I only wear long pants when I’m in the mountains. I don’t like being cold: the fact is, it’s no longer necessary in the winter, even in the coldest months.
If I have to project this change over a longer time frame—10 or 20 years—I inevitably ask myself the question: will we still be able to run outdoors, given the rising temperatures?
Also 10 years ago, I used to run in the evening in the summer. It was 24-25°C (about 75-77°F). Warm but not scorching, it was manageable. In recent years, I’ve run at the same time but in 32-33°C (about 90-91°F). Will we have to run at night?
The great warming that forces us indoors
You don’t have to be a scientist to notice: summers are increasingly open-air furnaces, and we don’t have to look far to see it. In Italy, too, heatwaves make summer running not just strenuous but also dangerous. The “urban heat island” effect—the fact that city temperatures are significantly higher than in the countryside—turns our cities into scorching traps. The data from the WHO (World Health Organization) and the European Environment Agency is brutal: between 2000 and 2021, heat-related deaths in Europe increased by 68%. Running in these conditions is no longer just a struggle, but a real risk: from heatstroke to kidney damage from thermal stress.
The air we breathe holds us back
Then there’s the invisible enemy: pollution. When we run, our pulmonary ventilation increases dramatically. Basically, in an hour of running in the city, we breathe in the same amount of junk we would inhale in two days of a sedentary life.
The point isn’t just breathing dirty air. It’s that, as a study published in The Lancet showed, exercising in the presence of high concentrations of PM2.5 can nullify the cardiovascular benefits of running. You read that right: nullify. You do something for your health in a context that compromises it. The Po Valley, in this regard, is one of the worst hotspots in Europe. Running in the winter in Milan or Turin often means doing it when monitoring stations advise to “avoid outdoor physical activity.” A contradiction we experience firsthand: to be well—we know this—we need to be outdoors. But we can be there safely less and less often.
Ever-grayer cities
And then, where do we run? Space is another piece of the puzzle. Per capita urban green space in many European cities is decreasing, limited and eroded by concrete. Italy, in this respect, is at the bottom of the pack: we have developed more land than France, Germany, and the United Kingdom combined. Less green space means not only fewer beautiful and safe places to train, but also dirtier air and higher temperatures. Added to this is traffic, which makes running stressful and less safe. With another paradox: a poorly lit park or an isolated area becomes an off-limits zone, especially for women. This triggers a vicious cycle: the less we frequent a public space because we perceive it as unsafe, the less the authorities care for it. And an empty park, as we know, is a park at risk of disappearing.
The escape into the virtual: an alternative
We all remember the virtual dimension of sport we were forced into by the pandemic. Returning to it isn’t a pleasant thought, yet faced with such a hostile outside world, the temptation to shut ourselves inside is strong. And the fitness industry knows it. The pandemic itself sparked an explosion of platforms like Zwift and Peloton, which offer immersive, safe, and controlled training experiences. The body moves, sure. But the world stays outside. And what do we lose? We lose the sensory experience, the one that no technology can replicate: the smell of rain on the asphalt, the changing light at sunset, the shared effort with a stranger you always cross at the same time, the discovery of a path you had never noticed. Virtual running is a produced, curated, aseptic experience. Running in the real world is immersion.
Running today is an act of resistance
This is why, today, going out for a run has become a political act. A gesture of resistance.
Every runner who moves through public space is asserting their right to exist in that place. They are reclaiming the right to a more human-scale city, with cleaner air, more green space, and safe areas for everyone. Every run we take is a declaration of intent: “I am here, in this world, in this body, in this city.”
The question, then, is no longer “How much longer will we run outdoors?”. The real question is: how long will we be willing to fight to be able to do it?
Because every step we take out the front door is a step toward a future that we cannot and must not take for granted.