I went on a run today. Nothing earth shattering, no PR’s were made. The distance wasn’t anything to write home about and it wasn’t part of a race. But it was six miles of time to myself, to be with my thoughts, and sometimes that’s a dangerous place. Today, I was mad.
I was mad because a few days ago, a girl younger than I set out to do just what I was doing and she didn’t come home. She’s not the first, and sadly, she probably won’t be the last. This one really struck a nerve for some reason, but maybe that’s just because it’s becoming too common in headlines. Woman goes out for run, doesn’t return home. We are vigilant for a few weeks, then move on, let our guards down, and it happens again. Rinse, repeat.
This really, really pisses me off.
Why should our guards have to be up in the first place? We’re told:
don’t run in the dark
run in groups
don’t run at the same time every day
change up your route
don’t wear headphones, or if you do, make sure you can hear your surroundings
run in public spaces
take a headlamp
take a whistle
a taser
a knife
pepper spray…
New inventions are made to help promote safety for runners, particularly women (Go Guarded, Birdie alarms, etc.). But why is it all necessary?
I know that women aren’t in this alone. It’s not lost on me that one day after Laken Riley was murdered on her run was the four year anniversary of the murder of Ahmaud Arbery, a black man who was just out for a run. People of color have a list like the one that women have to run through too:
don’t wear a hoodie
don’t look suspicious
don’t run after dark
try to run in places where you “look like you belong”
etc.
It’s ENOUGH.
I can only speak for myself, and while running originally was something I did for weight loss or competition, that ship has sailed. I know now that I continue to do this because it’s my stress reliever; sometimes the only time I get to myself for the entire day. For the sake of quick math, since 2022, I’ve gone on 560 runs and I’ve managed to come back home for all of them. But let’s just say for argument’s sake that Laken Riley ran about the same amount of runs I’ve run since then, too. Maybe that Thursday run was her 561st run since 2022. Will I come home from my 561st run? Or will I meet the same fate?
We shouldn’t have to worry about that. We should be lacing up our shoes, pounding the pavement (or track or trail or whatever) without having to constantly look over our shoulders, without having to make sure we’re packing to go to war each time we go out. I don’t have the solution, but man, do I have the feelings right now.
It’s not a stretch to say that running has saved my life. But I wonder as I type this, will it be the reason I lose my life, too?
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