Rundefeated

When you’ve been running long enough, you realize marathons aren’t just about shoes and GPS watches. There comes a day when your pockets can’t hold your phone, keys, energy gel, and protein bar without making you look like you’re smuggling snacks out of a buffet. That’s when you join the glorious, fanny pack-adjacent world of running belts. But here’s where it gets complicated: there are two very different kinds, and I’ve made questionable fashion choices with both.

The first is what I call the fabric tube belt. It’s essentially a stretchy, seamless waistband with hidden pockets. You step into it like it’s some futuristic waistband from a sci-fi movie, tuck your items into the slits around it, and let it hug your hips. It’s sleek, snug, and makes you feel like a secret agent. No bounce, no flap, no extra buckles. The downside? It takes a bit of yoga flexibility to retrieve anything while moving. Mid-run, I’ve had moments digging around this elastic contraption looking for my gel, feeling like a magician failing to pull a rabbit out of a hat.

Then there’s the classic waist bag style running belt — basically a mini fanny pack that runners like to pretend isn’t a fanny pack. It’s got a zipper, a strap, and an adjustable buckle. The upside? You can easily stash your phone, keys, and even a couple of protein bars without much hassle. Need a gel mid-run? Unzip, grab, consume. The downside? Bounce. Load it too much, and it dances around your hips like it’s auditioning for Dancing with the Stars. I once did a long run with a full waist bag and ended up with bruises where the buckle kept whacking my hip bones.

In theory, the fabric belt is perfect for fast, minimalistic runs. It’s lighter, smoother, and sits flush against your body. The problem is, if you’re carrying anything bigger than a house key and a single gel, you start looking like a squirrel hoarding food in its cheeks. Try squeezing a smartphone in there, and you’ll either stretch the thing beyond recognition or look like you’ve got a growth around your stomach.

On the other hand, the waist bag is perfect for those “I don’t know what I might need today” runs. Pack a phone, emergency cash, ID card, lip balm, maybe a Snickers for moral support — you’re ready for the apocalypse. The drawback? The moment you pick up speed, it starts bouncing. No matter how tight you cinch that strap, it always finds a way to shimmy around your waist, leaving you adjusting it every two kilometers like an awkward tourist.

I’ve tried both in races and long training runs. In one half marathon, I proudly wore a fabric belt loaded with two gels and my car keys. It worked beautifully for the first 10K. Then at the 12K mark, I reached for my gel and ended up pulling out my keys instead, flinging them dramatically into a bush by the roadside. Ten minutes of frantic key retrieval later, I promised myself never to wear that belt again unless my items were color-coded.

Then came the waist bag redemption arc. In a 25K training run, I carried everything I owned short of my passport. It was a good run — until the final 5K when the bouncing got so bad I had to hold the bag down with one hand like a kid running late to school with an oversized backpack. Passersby gave me odd looks as I finished the run one-handed, but at least I didn’t lose my keys.

At the end of the day, both belt styles have their place. If you’re going light and fast, nothing beats the sleek fabric tube. If you’re carrying enough gear to survive a small zombie outbreak, the waist bag is your friend — as long as you’re prepared for a little bounce. Or, if you’re like me, you’ll own both and rotate them depending on how many snacks you think you might need to emotionally survive your next run.