The new 'hoesik' wears running shoes新来的“hoesik”穿着跑鞋
The hardest part of a company dinner used to come before the meal. A junior employee would glance at the clock, wait to hear where the team was goi...

The writer contrasts Korea’s old hoesik culture with newer running groups, arguing that both can intrude on free time but in different ways. Formerly obligatory company dinners have become easier to decline, while group running is presented as a choice that can still turn into self-imposed pressure. The column says evenings should remain open to rest, walking, reading, or doing nothing without having to prove productivity.
The column says old hoesik dinners often made junior employees calculate their commute home, because refusing an invitation was not considered acceptable.
It describes group running along the Han River as a familiar post-work gathering, with people setting routes on their phones and running together.
The writer says phones can give hobbies a score through distance, pace, maps, and photos, which can make a relaxing run feel disappointing if it does not seem productive enough.
The column notes that Korea has long measured effort through exam scores and promotions, and says that habit can spill into hobbies as well.
Published Oct 1, 2026 10:50 am KST
The hardest part of a company dinner used to come before the meal. A junior employee would glance at the clock, wait to hear where the team was going and then calculate the journey home. The invitation might sound casual but saying no was not ok.
That was the reality of "hoesik" for many Korean workers — an obligatory meal together that could take ownership of an evening. Colleagues drank together in the name of building trust, while the person who went home early risked looking unfriendly or uncommitted. The meal had rules of its own: You paid attention to where you sat, when you raised your glass and whether your supervisor was ready to leave. Even conversation could feel like part of the job.
For some people, those dinners led to friendships that lasted long after they changed workplaces. Others remember watching the hours pass while thinking about the next morning’s commute. Both were true. The problem was how little room there was to choose.
Workers have gained more say over time. A team dinner no longer has quite the same claim on everyone’s evening and more people are willing to say they have other plans. This is a welcome change. Leaving the office should mean being able to decide what happens next.
Meanwhile, another kind of gathering has become familiar along the Han River. People assemble after work in running clothes, set their route using their phones and set off together. A running group can make exercise easier to keep up. It can also make a large city feel smaller. Unlike the company dinners of the past, joining one is usually a genuine choice.
I would be tempted to join for the company alone. Running beside someone gives you a reason to talk without having to fill every silence. If you fall behind, the other person may slow down. On a difficult week, putting on your shoes and meeting someone outside may be enough to make the evening better.
There is pleasure in improving, too. A runner who struggled through the first few kilometers might be delighted to finish a longer route months later. Friends should be able to celebrate that together. The trouble begins when the pleasure of running starts to depend on having progress to report.
Think of a group photograph taken after a run. One person wants it as a reminder of a good evening. Another may wonder how they look beside everyone else, or whether anyone noticed they took the shorter route. The photograph has not changed. What each person brings to it has.
Then there is the run as it appears online: the distance, the pace, the map and the photograph of everyone smiling afterward. For people who enjoy keeping records, these are part of the fun. But imagine arriving home after a gentle half hour outdoors and feeling faintly disappointed because you ran no farther than last week. Nobody has criticized you. Nothing went wrong. Somehow the evening still feels as though it should have produced a better result.
That small disappointment interests me more than the running itself. Korea has long offered ways to measure effort, from exam scores to promotions. Now our phones can give hobbies a score as well. We can choose whether to look at it, of course, but it takes some effort to ignore a number sitting on your wrist.
A group can add to the feeling. You may have joined because you wanted friends, then find yourself wondering whether you are keeping up. The people around you may be kind. They may have no interest in your pace at all. The worry can still be real, especially when everyone seems to have a race to prepare for or a new goal in mind.
This is where the memory of hoesik stays with me. The old pressure came from your employer and was hard to refuse. The newer one may come from expectations we have taken on ourselves. Those are different experiences, with different consequences. Yet both can reach into the hours when we are supposed to be free.
Of course, a runner can turn off an app, leave a group or decide to walk instead. That ability to choose matters. I also know how easy it is to carry the habits of the workday into the evening and set a goal, track the result, try to do better next time. After a while, even a pastime can begin to sound like a task assigned by a particularly demanding manager.
Running groups deserve their popularity. There should be room in them for someone who stops to catch a breath, joins only when they feel like it or never signs up for a race. There should also be room outside them for the person who takes a slow walk, reads at home or does very little after work. None of these evenings needs to be explained as an investment in health or productivity.
We have become better at recognizing that an employee should be able to decline a company dinner. It would be a pity to win back that evening only to feel obliged to make something impressive of it. Some days, time well spent leaves no record at all.
Shin Go-eun is an associate professor at the University of Social Sciences and Humanities, Vietnam National University Ho Chi Minh City.
作者对比了韩国传统的会志文化和新兴的跑步团体,指出两者都会侵占个人空闲时间,但方式不同。过去必须参加的公司聚餐如今更容易被拒绝,而集体跑步则被视为一种选择,但仍然可能演变成自我施加的压力。文章认为,夜晚应该留给休息、散步、阅读或什么都不做,而无需证明自己有所作为。
专栏文章称,过去那些老派的“hoesik”晚宴常常让年轻员工计算回家的路程,因为拒绝邀请被认为是不合适的。
它将沿着汉江的集体跑步描述为一种常见的下班后聚会,人们在手机上设置路线,然后一起跑步。
作者表示,手机可以通过距离、速度、地图和照片来给爱好打分,如果跑步看起来不够高效,那么一次轻松的跑步也会让人感到失望。
专栏文章指出,韩国长期以来一直通过考试成绩和晋升来衡量努力程度,并表示这种习惯也会蔓延到兴趣爱好方面。
发布于2026年10月1日上午10:50(韩国标准时间)
公司聚餐最难的部分以前往往是在餐前。一位初级员工会瞥一眼时钟,等着听团队的聚餐安排,然后计算回家的路程。邀请函听起来可能很随意,但拒绝却不太合适。
对许多韩国上班族来说,“会食”就是如此——一场必须共进的晚餐,它几乎掌控了整个晚上。同事们为了建立信任而一起喝酒,而早早回家的人则可能显得不友好或不够投入。会食也有自己的规矩:你要注意自己的座位,何时举杯,以及你的主管是否准备离开。甚至连聊天都像是工作的一部分。
对一些人来说,那些晚餐促成了长久的友谊,即便他们换了工作,友谊依然延续。而另一些人则记得,时间一分一秒地流逝,脑子里想着第二天早上的通勤。这两种情况都存在。问题在于,可供选择的空间实在太小了。
随着时间的推移,员工的话语权越来越大。团队聚餐不再像以前那样占据每个人的晚上时间,越来越多的人愿意表示自己另有安排。这是一个可喜的变化。离开办公室应该意味着能够自主决定接下来要做什么。
与此同时,汉江沿岸也出现了一种新的聚会形式。人们下班后穿上跑步服,用手机规划好路线,然后一起出发。跑步小组让锻炼更容易坚持,也能让大城市显得更小巧。与以往的公司聚餐不同,参加跑步小组通常是出于自愿。
光是为了有人陪伴,我就很想加入。和别人一起跑步,就给了你们一个说话的理由,不用费力去填补每一个沉默。如果你落后了,对方也可能会放慢速度。在难熬的一周里,穿上跑鞋,和人一起在户外跑步,或许就足以让夜晚变得美好。
进步本身也是一种乐趣。一个跑者如果最初几公里跑得十分吃力,几个月后完成更长的路线可能会让他欣喜若狂。朋友们应该能够一起庆祝这一时刻。问题在于,当跑步的乐趣开始取决于是否有进步可以汇报时。
想象一下跑步后拍的集体照。有人想把它当作美好夜晚的纪念。有人可能会好奇自己站在大家中间看起来怎么样,或者有没有人注意到自己走了近路。照片本身没变,变的是每个人赋予它的意义。
然后是跑步记录在网上的样子:距离、配速、地图,以及跑后大家灿烂的笑容照片。对于喜欢记录的人来说,这些都是乐趣的一部分。但想象一下,在户外轻松跑了半小时后回到家,却因为跑的距离和上周一样而感到一丝失望。没有人批评你,一切顺利,但不知为何,你仍然觉得这一晚本该取得更好的成绩。
比起跑步本身,这点小小的失望更让我感兴趣。韩国长期以来都有衡量努力程度的方法,从考试成绩到晋升,不一而足。现在,我们的手机也能给爱好打分了。当然,我们可以选择是否去看,但要忽略手腕上的数字,确实需要一番功夫。
加入一个团体可能会加剧这种感觉。你或许是为了结交朋友而加入,但随后却会担心自己是否跟得上。周围的人或许很友善,他们或许根本不在乎你的进度。但这种担忧依然存在,尤其当每个人似乎都在为另一场比赛做准备,或者心中怀揣着新的目标时。
这就是我对“hoesik”(一种工作压力)记忆犹新的地方。过去,压力来自雇主,难以拒绝;而现在,压力可能来自我们对自己设定的期望。这两种经历截然不同,后果也各不相同。然而,它们都可能侵占我们本应拥有的自由时间。
当然,跑步者可以关闭应用程序、退出跑步队伍,或者选择步行。这种选择权至关重要。我也知道,很容易把工作日的习惯带到晚上,设定目标、追踪结果、争取下次做得更好。久而久之,就连一项爱好听起来都像是来自一位要求苛刻的经理布置的任务。
跑步团体之所以受欢迎,理应如此。团体内部应该容纳那些随时停下来喘口气的人,那些随性而至的人,以及那些从不报名参加比赛的人。团体之外,也应该容纳那些喜欢慢走、在家读书或下班后无所事事的人。这些夜晚的休闲时光,无需被解释为对健康或效率的投资。
我们越来越能理解员工有权拒绝公司聚餐。如果好不容易赢回了那晚的聚餐机会,却又不得不勉强应付,那就太可惜了。有时候,真正有意义的时光根本不会留下任何痕迹。
申高恩是越南胡志明市国家大学社会科学与人文学院的副教授。