Luci.News

Why is it that as soon as you leave first year and go into second year half of the people you know are running half marathons or tucked in bed at ten PM with a self help book and a herbal tea? The same people I used to see out clubbing every single night in first year have unanimously decided to ditch drinking and to trade in their platinum cards for running shoes.

There’s this unspoken rule in many universities – first year is for fun, freedom, and a lot of drinking. It’s the year of no responsibility and blurry mornings. Yet something strange happens when second year rolls around. My Instagram feed suddenly became less about last night’s pub golf and more about early morning runs and Strava screenshots. Where did all the pictures of Jason Riley go and why is everyone training for a half marathon? 

The simple answer to this nagging question can be drawn back to maturity. Second year often comes with a reality check for most people. The novelty of unstructured freedom wears off, and a lot of us begin to crave routine and wellness. Running becomes an unexpected solution. 

In second year, the academic stakes are higher. Marks actually count towards your final degree and with future prospects starting to loom, many trade clubs for clarity. Running provides mental sharpness, stress relief, and a structured form of procrastination that feels productive. Second year also tends to be more introspective and the runner’s identity offers a clean, focused alternative to the party persona.

There’s also a bandwagon effect that plays a huge role in this. Once a few people in your circle start running and with groups in York, like Girls who Run and Run to Roses, it spreads. Sunday morning long runs become the new brunch. Group chats shift from ‘where are we having pres?’ to ‘who’s signing up for the 10K?’. A sort of wholesome form of peer pressure. 

This isn’t to say that the party dies out completely in second year; however there is an undeniable difference. The chaos is replaced by calendar invites for early runs, the pints by protein smoothies. In many ways, the shift from drinking to running reflects a broader evolution from escapism to intention. 

The best part is that anyone can grab their friends, pick up their trainers, and get out there. Running does not have to be serious and no one expects you to be the next Usain Bolt. Although I am partial to a good run and I have fallen victim to the first-second year switch, you will likely not find me at the 2026 London Marathon next year. 

In trading pints for pavement, many students discover that the path to a more fulfilling university experience begins with lacing up their running shoes.