Sydney to Seoul: Finding a different rhythm of running

At 6:00 a.m., Seoul was still winding down from the night before. As I stepped onto the metro heading to Gwanghwamun for the Seoul Marathon, I found myself surrounded not by fellow runners, but by late night revelers heading home. It was a striking contrast. Two different rhythms of the same city intersecting in a single carriage.

By the time I reached the start line, the streets had transformed. About 40,000 runners gathered beneath the early morning sky, representing a running culture in Korea that feels both fast growing and deeply embedded. What stood out was the diversity of run clubs, each group dressed in its own colors, almost like teams lining up for competition. It felt organized, communal and quietly competitive. Only later, scrolling through social media, did I realize I had been running alongside influencers and even celebrities. A reflection of how visible and mainstream running has become.

The Seoul Marathon is not only one of the oldest in the world, but the oldest in Asia. There was something powerful about running in a race with such history, especially as the rest of the city remained asleep. Unlike the major races in Sydney, where crowds line the streets from early morning, Seoul’s race felt more introspective, a shared experience among runners themselves.

That sense of community, however, manifests differently here. In Sydney, running is informal and free. You meet friends, join a casual run, and that is enough. In Seoul, many running clubs, or meetings, require membership fees. At first, this felt unusual. But the structure creates something else. Consistency, commitment and identity. Running here is not just something you do. It is something you belong to.

The difference becomes even clearer in how often people race. In Korea, there seems to be an event almost every weekend. Running is not just training. It is participation. In Australia, most runners build toward one or two major races each year. Here, racing itself is part of the lifestyle.

This reflects something deeper. Korea’s intense work culture has led many to seek balance through movement. Running becomes more than exercise. It is release, self-improvement and perhaps even a quiet rebellion against long office hours. I even heard of a running club that funded trips for its members to race in Jeju. That would be almost unimaginable back home.

Yet, for all the differences, some things remain universal. Along the Han River, where I run most weekends, the camaraderie is undeniable. Strangers exchange nods, smiles and a simple but powerful “Fighting!” as they pass. It is a small gesture, but one that captures the collective spirit of running here.

Adapting, however, has not been without its challenges. Arriving in Seoul during winter, I quickly realized my Sydney running wardrobe, T-shirts and shorts, was not going to suffice. The looks I received and the concerned “aren’t you cold?” from passing ajummas, made that clear. I have since invested in leggings and long sleeves, blending in just a little more.

As spring approaches, I am excited to experience a warmer Korea and to keep exploring a running culture that is structured, social and constantly moving forward. Next stop, the Gyeongju Cherry Marathon.

Geoffrey Chen (gywchen@gmail.com) is a former corporate lawyer from Australia currently studying Korean at Korea University in Seoul.