They say laughter is medicine, but I never truly believed that until I found myself laughing alone in the middle of the night not because something funny happened around me, but because of a show playing on my screen. That show was Running Man. At a time when life felt heavy and uncertain, this Korean variety show became my unexpected escape, my therapy, my reminder that joy could still be found in the little things like watching grown adults chase each other through buildings just to rip off a name tag.
I stumbled on Running Man during my university break. A friend had shared a clip where Yoo Jae-suk slipped on water while trying to dodge a water balloon attack. I remember replaying it like ten times. It wasn’t just the humor, it was how real it all felt. No forced drama, just genuine fun. The cast had this natural chemistry that made you feel like you were part of the group, like you were sitting right there with them, laughing and cheering.
What stood out for me most was the creativity in the show’s format. One moment they were secret agents on a mission, the next they were farmers solving riddles on a rice field. Each episode had something fresh, and the unpredictability kept me hooked. I didn’t know entertainment could be this... alive. I found myself binging episodes for hours laughing, tearing up, even learning some Korean words along the way.
Another show that left a strong impression was Physical: 100. Unlike the fun and chaos of Running Man, this one was intense, competitive, and raw. Watching people push their bodies and minds to the limit showed me a different side of Korean variety one that celebrated strength, strategy, and human willpower. It made me reflect on my own journey, my goals, and how much grit I was willing to put in.
Then came I Live Alone slow, simple, and surprisingly heartfelt. Watching celebrities live out their quiet, everyday lives made me feel less alone in mine. It was comforting to see that even stars had lonely dinners, lazy Sundays, and off days. It reminded me that being ordinary is okay and that there’s beauty in solitude.
Through K-variety shows, I didn’t just find entertainment. I found pieces of myself. I laughed, cried, reflected, and grew. These shows went beyond borders and language; they connected to something deeper: the human experience. They showed me the importance of community, of finding joy in small moments, and of not taking life too seriously.
To anyone who hasn’t watched a K-variety show before, you’re missing out. It’s more than just content; it’s a feeling, a connection, and sometimes, exactly what you need when the world feels just a little too heavy.
Images are Ai generated
