Hoka Challenger 8: The Compact SUV That Ran Through It All

🌲 Hoka Challenger 8, hay cream soup, and a drone carried off by the wind.

They say money is the devil’s eye. I say my Hoka Challenger 8s are his sportier brother. They don’t care if I buy them with cash, card, or on a promise to pay after payday. What matters is that once I lace them up, they’ll take me anywhere: asphalt, trails, cobblestones, muddy backroads. They wink at you like they’re begging you to head out, to push them into places you have no business being, just to see if they’ll hold up. And if, God forbid, the wind rips away your drone and you decide to chase it down on foot (yep, been there), these shoes will carry you all the way. At that point it’s no longer just running — it’s a pact with the devil. One that’s worth it.

🔧 Tech talk — in plain English

On paper, the Challenger 8s are “all-terrain”… which basically means they’re the jack-of-all-trades of running shoes. You can take them straight from your front door on asphalt, and they won’t shy away from forest roads, muddy paths, or gravel. Unlike all-season tires that end up being mediocre at everything, these actually work wherever you throw them.

Weight: ~275 g (US 9 / EU 42 2/3). Translation: light enough that your legs won’t hate you after 20 km, but not so light they’ll run off on their own.

Stack height: ~44 mm heel / 37 mm forefoot. Plenty of cushion to keep you from cursing every pebble, but not so much that you feel like you’re driving a Hoka Bondi bus.

Drop: 7 mm — a sweet middle ground. Lets your foot stay natural without making you feel like you’re in high heels.

Outsole: 4 mm lugs — sharp enough to bite into dirt and gravel, but not so aggressive that you’ll sound like a tractor on asphalt.

Midsole foam: classic Hoka CMEVA — not a squishy couch pillow, not concrete either. The kind of cushioning you forget about because it just works. You can wear them all day without complaining.

Upper: light, breathable mesh, made entirely from recycled PET. The standard model isn’t waterproof; if you want rain protection, there’s a GTX version.

👉 In short, the Challenger 8s are like a compact SUV. Not a full-on safari Jeep, but not a fragile city sedan either. They’ll get you through almost anything, without you second-guessing if the terrain is “right” for them.

That’s the spec sheet. But numbers only tell part of the story. Let me walk you through how these shoes held up during 36 hours of running, wandering, and eating goulash — because that’s where the fun really started. 😂

It all started kind of randomly. I had piles of work waiting — end of a project, launch coming up, the whole circus. Then Paul called. He had to go to Lacul Roșu and asked if I wanted to tag along. And you know how it is: when you’re dead tired, nothing sounds more tempting than two long drives across Valea Prahovei in just 36 hours. 😂

At least I had an excuse: I’d just received the new shoes and needed to test them properly. Lacul Roșu sounded perfect — asphalt, trails, muddy tracks, mountains, and if we were lucky, some proper food along the way. And yes, we got that too.

We left Saturday around noon. I’d already done a 61 km bike ride that morning around Chiajna, so my legs weren’t exactly fresh. By 3 p.m., we were in Brașov having a quick coffee and gossip stop with some friends. The plan was to grab dinner in Sfântu Gheorghe at Hunyadi Csárda — we’d been there before and knew it wouldn’t disappoint. Paul was keeping it clean, no indulgences. Me? I was already daydreaming about that gulyás. And let me tell you, it was spot on again: the perfect gulyás, preceded by a soup that nearly made me poke my own eyes out with joy.

By the time we reached Lacul Roșu, evening had settled in. We took a short walk around the lake in the dark. Quiet. Cold. That mountain silence that’s both eerie and calming. It was already chilly — barely 12°C — and we were both wondering (a bit nervously) how cold it would be in the morning when we planned to run.

Morning came crisp and clear. Sunshine, clean mountain air — and cold enough to freeze your ears off: 7°C at 8 a.m. 😂 We geared up. Paul even lent me a running jacket (of course I’d forgotten mine) and we found a little trail behind the restaurant that wound its way through the forest down to the lake. Steps, climbs, narrow paths tangled with roots — exactly my kind of playground. 🤭

After a few climbs and forest trails, we reached a stream crossing. The spot was beautiful, and I admit I was tempted to just splash straight through the water with my new Hokas — that’s usually how I “test” them. 🤭 But since I only had this one pair with me, I behaved. I’d been wearing them since the day before, breaking them in both walking and running, on sidewalks and dirt tracks.

There was a slick log across the stream, some rocks, and a chunk of concrete on the side. I skipped across without trouble. Paul, in his Clifton, chose the safer route. And honestly — as much as we love the Clifton, they’re not miracle workers on wet logs with water rushing underneath. Better to just go through the water. 😂 The Challengers though… they felt glued to the ground.

That’s really the difference: Clifton can handle a bit of trail if they have to, but the moment you hit mud, wet grass, or water crossings, they start looking for the easier path. The Challengers? They just shrug: “come on, stop making a fuss.”

We carried on along the lake, hopping between all sorts of surfaces: dirt, gravel, muddy patches, forest roads. A proper buffet of terrain. And even when we hit asphalt on the way back, it didn’t feel out of place. The Challengers rolled from trail to tarmac as if that had been the plan all along.

We got back fairly quickly, but neither of us felt like stopping. The day was too good. So we pushed a little further, into the other side — towards Bicaz Gorge, though not all the way. Traffic was heavy on the main road, but luckily we spotted a forest track winding through the trees.

So we ducked in and ran it. And wow — that’s where the shoes really shone. Roots, soft ground, gravel — it didn’t matter. The foam and outsole seemed to know exactly how to land every time. On the way back, we let it rip downhill just to see how they handled speed on rough terrain. Smooth. Stable. Almost playful.

We didn’t log a huge run, maybe 6–7 km, but it was packed: climbs, descents, mud, forest road, asphalt. Enough to get a real taste. The verdict was obvious: the Challengers weren’t fazed by anything.

After the run, we sat down for an unusual breakfast. First up: pork crackling spread. And honestly? Unreal. Then came some kind of egg cream spread — I still don’t know exactly what it was, maybe mayo mixed with egg — but it was addictive. The kind of thing you’d want to eat straight off your fingers. Other goodies were on the table too, but I held back. It was going to be a long day.

Our first stop: Oxygen Resort. A really cool place with a restaurant, an alpine coaster, a hotel under construction, and those modern cabins on stilts with panoramic windows — the kind that make you want to sip coffee while floating in the forest. I flew my drone there, fighting a crazy headwind. Every time I sent it out with the wind, bringing it back felt like wrestling with a storm. Somehow I managed… twice.

And then came the culinary highlight. Their chef told us about something I couldn’t believe until I tried it: hay cream soup. Yes — hay. Not just any hay, but mountain hay, hand-cut, mixed with wildflowers. He bakes it for hours with a secret recipe before turning it into soup. The result? Pure mountain in a bowl. It smelled like freshly cut grass on a summer evening, but tasted smooth, sweet, and refined. A memory disguised as food.

Next, we headed to a nearby ski resort. The slope was already open, but the bigger projects were still under construction. Once it’s all done, the place will be stunning. We walked around, met the owners — great people — and of course, I tried flying the drone again. Same story: tailwind, fine; headwind, disaster. The drone can push 50 km/h in sport mode, but when the wind hits you with 70, nature wins. I saved it on the last drops of battery.

On the way back, I got cocky. Wanted that cinematic shot — car below, tall fir trees on each side, winding mountain road, full movie vibes. But as soon as I lifted it above the treeline… gone. Swept away like a leaf. Tried every trick, but math doesn’t lie: 50 vs 70 km/h. With the battery dying, I forced it down near a road I thought was close. Then — blackout. Lost all signal.

So we started searching on foot. At first, convinced it had to be near our road. Nope. To make things worse, mountain rain kicked in. Big thanks to Teo for handing us a giant umbrella, though in that kind of rain, an umbrella’s just for decoration. Luckily it didn’t last long. We kept wandering across wet grass, muddy paths, tall sticky weeds — exactly the kind of terrain perfect for testing my Challengers. Any other shoe and I’d have been slipping all over. These just locked into the ground.

Finally, I remembered the “find my drone” feature in the app. Not exactly easy to access (why would DJI make things simple? 😂). With a bit of mobile signal, the map showed its position. We trekked towards it: path turned to grass, grass into dense forest. Honestly? I was shitting myself thinking about bears. Eventually I circled back, found Paul, and dragged him along. We hiked hundreds of meters, maybe over a kilometer, until the path opened onto a bigger forest road.

And there it was. By an old abandoned well, lying in the grass like a tired puppy waiting to be found — Pluto, my drone. 🥲

Relieved, we made our way back on foot. Funny thing — I can run 100, even 200 km, but ask me to wander aimlessly and it feels like torture. 😅 Still, the joy of finding Pluto made every soggy step worth it.

Back at Oxygen, we sat down with the owner, Csongor — a fantastic guy. Conversation drifted, naturally, to food. And that’s when the chef brought out something I’ll never forget: hay cream soup. Yes, hay. Sounds crazy, but it was genius. Not just any hay, either — mountain hay, cut by hand, dried with care, infused with wildflowers. Slow-cooked for hours. The aroma wasn’t dusty or dry — it was like tasting a summer meadow. Sweet, delicate, earthy. A spoonful felt like biting into the memory of fresh-cut grass in the mountains. Pure art.

After that miracle soup, we packed our stuff and headed back. On the way, we detoured through Brașov to meet up with an old friend, Țuțu, who manages a restaurant in Piața Sfatului. And of course, he wouldn’t let us leave hungry. First came a proper Transylvanian lettuce soup with smoked ham and farm eggs — pure childhood nostalgia. Then I ordered spaghetti aglio, olio e peperoncino. Not quite the Italian dream I had in mind, but good enough to hold me over until my chef friend Sorin makes me the real deal. 🤭

We chatted, we laughed, we filled our bellies, and around 11:30 PM we finally made it home. Naturally, I opened the laptop and worked until 2 AM. 😂

So ended 36 hours of roads, runs, drone chases, and food stories. Through it all, my Challenger 8s never left my feet. Asphalt, trails, mud, wet logs, long walks — they didn’t just perform, they felt like companions. If Bondi is the comfy bus and Clifton is the city car that can handle road trips, the Challengers are the compact SUV: ready for the mall, the forest, the mud, or a goulash pit stop.

Conclusion? Simple: with these on, you don’t ask “where can I run today?” You just go. A little deal with the devil — but one worth making. 😎