Running for Change

2020 was a weird year for all of us.  It was the first season since my 5th grade year that I wasn't actively training for and running in foot races.  This is a privilege that I have taken for granted.  Until the pandemic stopped me, I didn't give much thought to the fact that I was able to run outside without fear.  The killing of Ahmaud Arbery illuminated for me the racial disparity many face.  

I don't know how to heal or make changes as a country, but I do know that funding groups like the ACLU will help immensely.  This February, I will be completing a modified calendar club, running the miles of the date each day.  My modification will be to run half of the distance on the even dates (1 mile on the 1st, 1 mile on the 2nd, 3 miles on the 3rd, etc.) for a total of 301 miles over the course of the month.  Along the way, I'll be running a half marathon on the 13th, a full marathon on the 27th, and 9 miles on the 18th with my husband, Brian to celebrate our 9th wedding anniversary.

Please donate what you can and share this to as many people as you are able. 

More information about ACLU Foundation: For nearly 100 years, the American Civil Liberties Union (ACLU) has been our nation's guardian of liberty, working in courts, legislatures, and communities to defend and preserve the individual rights and liberties that the Constitution and the laws of the United States guarantee everyone in this country.

I've written a little more about why I'm doing this fundraiser. If you have a moment, please read and forward.

I have been running competitively since I was in the fifth grade, but it wasn’t until 2020 that I really evaluated my relationship with running. While many people have told me that they would only run to catch a bus or outrun a predator, I have always enjoyed it as a way to stay healthy, both physically and mentally. The universality of running has always been an inspiration to me and I enjoy being involved in a sport that anyone can engage with, regardless of body type, financial situation, or background.

At least that is the assumption I lived by until recently. The senseless killing of Ahmaud Arbery really impacted me as a runner. I have run in many cities and rural areas around the United States and Europe and have almost always felt safe. I can count on one hand the times that I have felt unsafe while running: when my dog was attacked by an escaped pit bull and the few times I have almost been run over by distracted drivers. It is because of those events that I run without headphones and with security lights. Over the years, loved ones have cautioned me to be safe while running and I thought that the fact that I have run solo for so many years without incident is because I was being smart. I know now that a big factor of my safety was my privilege and skin color.

I first became aware of this when over the course of one week a few months ago three different people warned me not to run on a trail near my house. All three of these men were middle-aged and one was a complete stranger. The trail, the S-line, is a converted rail trail that I can access within a mile from where I live. It is one of the reasons my husband and I chose our neighborhood. Before the pandemic, I would run there once or twice a week. Since the outbreak, I run there almost exclusively because it is a wide trail and fairly untraveled so it’s easy to keep plenty of social distance. The trail runs behind and through low-income housing and primarily black neighborhoods. I hope the cautions I was given were well-meant, but they really impacted and angered me. Was Ahmaud warned before he went running? Are other black runners warned before running? Were the seemingly well-intentioned neighbors really telling me not to run on the trail because black people live nearby?

These and many other questions have filled my daily contemplations while I run. In the months since I was told not to run on the trail, I have ramped up my mileage and can be seen there daily and for a good amount of time. I have seen parents walking their children to school, crossing guards helping students cross the busy streets, people walking or biking to work early in the morning wearing security vests, and plenty of wildlife. The people I see say hello or words of encouragement like “Run one extra for me!” or “It’s working!” Since I was advised not to run there, the only time I felt at all uncomfortable was the day a dog charged at me. Once she got ten feet away, her tail went crazy and she rolled over for scratchies. She followed me home and was reunited with her owner (six miles away!) after finding a registered microchip.

I continue to think about the advice I was given. It has prompted me to educate myself about inequalities we have in our society. Caste: The Origins of Our Discontents by Isabel Wilkerson was enlightening as were several other books and podcasts to which I have read and listen. I plan to continue to read, listen, and inquire about how we are broken and how we can move forward and make amends. I have been a complicit racist for most of my life and had no idea that I was contributing to the inequities people of color in the United States face.

In addition to educating myself, I am also running a challenge this month to raise awareness about the inequalities in our country. All of the proceeds go directly to the ACLU who knows far better than me how we move forward and make a more equitable life for all. If you are able, please help them. If you cannot financially help, please share the link so maybe someone else can. Either way, read, listen and talk with people with different views. The more we get to know the people who don’t look like us or have the same experiences as we do, the better equipped we are as a society to see the perspectives and struggles of others.