In Addis Ababa, Ethiopia, the day starts in a way decidedly not typical of many known climates, with the crunch of gravel beneath one’s feet rather than the singing of birds. To gaze upon the silhouettes of figures in motion, the puff of breath in the chilly, thin air, before the sun is up in the ridges of Entoto, is to behold the embodiment of diligence, a route traced through a legacy of greatness passed down through many generations.
This land molds its runners as it sustains them. Addis is lofty, resting at about 2400 meters above sea level, with elevations across the city ranging from 2050 to 3200 meters. Several training routes extend to altitudes exceeding 3000 meters. It is in such thin air that the human body becomes eerily efficient: breathing grows economical, the heart functions with clarity and purpose, and blood delivers oxygen with unfaltering accuracy. But it is neither purely physiological nor purely environmental; it is both evolutionary success and dialogue between landscape and runner. Elevation becomes neither a mere condition nor a mere measure; it is an instructor in that true heights are where patience goes first to climb.
The classroom is ubiquitous: from the soft red ash tracks winding through the eucalyptus forests to the cool air of the Sululta plateau and the roads of rural towns known far and wide as breeding grounds for world record beaters. “We don’t have the infrastructure of other countries,” said a veteran coach in one of these rural towns, where the motto is said to be handed down as folklore. “But we have this earth, this sky, this notion that discipline is the building block of all greatness.”
The running path is the consecrated workshop where the most essential tool used is pure willpower; the objective is the dialogue between each individual and the limits they are exploring. This dialogue started long ago with Abebe Bikila running barefoot in the Rome Olympic Games. Bikila did not just win a marathon; he changed the narratives. His strong stride along the Appian Way in the 1960 Olympic Games showed that strength is where the spirit is and that freedom beats its own tempo. This legacy was continued by Mamo Wolde eight years later. Young Haile Gebrselassie was inspired by this legacy and dreamed of global podiums while running ten kilometers to and from school each day at his birthplace, Arsi–Asella, Ethiopia. Derartu Tulu started from this same root when she became the first African woman to win Olympic gold, lighting the lamp for many young girls and legends who followed. However, not all Ethiopian champions trained or raced barefoot. Bikila’s barefoot victory is iconic, but many greats, Gebrselassie, Kenenisa Bekele, Tirunesh Dibaba, Meseret Defar, Letesenbet Gidey, trained and raced in shoes; what unites them is the culture of patience and work rather than a single habit of footwear.
This deeply instilled discipline and commitment result in the remarkable displays we witness on the global stage, such as the fierce final-lap performance by Kenenisa Bekele and the smooth performance in a 10,000-meter race. But the true picture lies in numberless mornings, where the rising sun is the sole witness and the sole compensation is the satisfaction of labor. The successes are the outcome of a discipline that embraces dedication, and they grow on robust foundations fed by the collective passion for believing in it.
Living in this culture makes it possible to experience firsthand the transition from personal to collective culture. A few years back, in Meskel Square in Addis Ababa, where the morning had focused on promoting an elite activity related to sports performance, now at dusk shifted to celebrating the joy of movement in Addis Ababa culture where there were hundreds and sometimes thousands of Ethiopians gathered to run together to collectively experience what it meant in this society to be in motion every single day of their lives. This shared motion is not a museum of the past; it changes with the generations, with coaches and shoes and surfaces, yet the ethic remains the same.
The impact of this running philosophy extends beyond the track, forging a national spirit rooted in dignity and resilience. Haile Gebrselassie’s career, from athletic greatness to enterprise development, can be seen to embody an overarching message that, as in running, concentration, strategic timing, and vision can also be principles for living one’s life. His lifelong motto, in Amharic “ይቻላል! (It is possible!)” crystallizes this ethos, expressing both personal belief and a wider cultural conviction about perseverance and progress. Nowhere is this more vividly demonstrated than in the remarkable achievements of Ethiopian runners, who have collectively set and broken dozens of world records across distances from 1500 meters to the marathon. Haile himself set twenty-seven world records over the course of his career, contributing to a national legacy in which running becomes a lens through which progress itself can be understood. The method is simple to say and hard to live: accumulate small gains, return tomorrow, and treat the work as its own reward.
In a small compound near the training grounds, I sat with young athletes who had just completed their morning training. The glow of their exertion glistened on their faces, and their smiles were full of the sun’s warming rays. Their trainer, whose experience had carved deep lines on his face, spoke to them gently, “Remember, you’re not just training your legs. You’re training your patience, your heart, and your vision of what is possible.” One could say that this embodies the spirit of the Ethiopian highlands, which is not only about running fast but also about living well. The message lands because it is lived daily, not because it is written on a wall.
Ethiopian runners have also had the greatest impact in distance running through an ideology that emphasizes gradual improvement rather than shortcuts. Indeed, it is also an ideology that recognizes collective success rather than personal glory in achieving set goals. You see it in group runs at dawn, in careful pacing across months, and in the way champions speak about the “we” that carried them to the line, unlike athletes in the most developed countries.
As my experience in the highlands came to a close, I chose to spend one final early morning walk along the Entoto trail. Runners began to move along the trail, their soft footsteps in rhythm. The early sun climbed over the hills, throwing a bright spotlight on the expansive land below. This is a culture where running is not about winning; it is about discovering the link between effort and elevation. It is not about the zenith reached in a day but about the relentless passage to that destination, laid down in the footsteps of successive generations of trailblazers, some kids even barefoot, many in shoes, all bound by the same patience, repetition, and work.