Running while Woman
Unfortunately you cannot outrun the fact that you are indeed a woman.
A few weeks ago, I had an easy, mid-length weeknight training run on the calendar. As much as I can, I like to switch up my route and run to interesting destinations to keep things interesting on what can otherwise be a monotonous run. This particular night, I chose to run to the lights at LACMA, laced up my shoes, and headed out.
It was a pretty pleasant run and I was happy to be outside of my usual routine. Though it was still warm, there was a nice evening breeze. I took my time, embracing the slow pace, walking when I needed to, and enjoying the scenery.
I finally made it to the lights, snapped some photos (because you didn’t really go for a run if you don’t post a disgusting selfie on Strava) and looped around, jogging home through the La Brea Tar Pits. The aroma reminded me of the tar on the beaches in Santa Barbara — a familiar scent I always associate with returning to college after winter breaks or moving back in after a summer at home.
I finally finished up my run and slowed down to cool off before stopping at a store to get something cold to drink. As I was waiting at a traffic light, I saw an older man in a car with his window down waiting to make an unprotected left turn onto the street I was on. I felt him staring. But I quickly disregarded it, thinking I was being too hyper-vigilant, and he was probably looking out for cars and I just happened to be in the line of sight. I continued walking down the block towards the store.
As I strolled down on wobbly legs, I heard a voice. “Hey, beautiful.” The man was now right next to me, going the same direction I was, slowing to a stop at a red light. He would’ve had to make a full U-turn. I stopped, and immediately made a phone call as superficial protection. I turned around, and sat down at a bench out of his sight as I waited for him to continue down the major street. I wish I could’ve just gone invisible.
Still on the phone, recounting what had just happened and how unsettled I was, I walked into the store to grab a drink. I’d not been in the store for more than 30 seconds before I passed two men about my age. “Hey, boo,” I heard one of them say, turning to face me as I walked by. “It just happened again,” I said into the phone.
Beyond the irony of this happening while I was literally on the phone seeking comfort for a very similar situation, I was infuriated. The only function these interactions have is to make the recipient feel unsafe and remind them that they could at any point be in danger. In broad daylight. In populated areas. Anywhere, at any time. They are not seeking to compliment, they are not seeking any sort of meaningful connection. It is a reduction.
I thought about this as I walked home. Yes, I had the audacity to venture outside without a male chaperone in the year of our lord 2023. Yes, I was wearing shorts and a sports bra — I had the gall to show my midriff when I knew a man could see it. In the summer. When it was hot out. And I was exercising.
As I continued to reflect, I realized that what truly pissed me off about this is being reduced to a one dimensional object. The reality of the situation is that I am a human being in the process of training for my first marathon, for a cause that is deeply personal and important to me, after going through a tragic event at UCSB. But to these strangers, I was just an object. There was no consideration of humanity, just “Oh, woman there. Must say something. Must remind woman that no matter the complexity of her experience, I see object.”
At first, I thought that this was simply an issue involving safety for women while exercising in public. But I soon concluded that it is not removed from the issue of gun violence that I’m running to prevent — acts of violence that are carried on in vast, vast majority by men. Many of which are misogynists, viewing women as sex objects, reducing them down to the most minimal, superficial versions of themselves.
I don’t know what the answer to this problem is, but the answer sure as hell is not that I stop exercising in clothes that are comfortable, as I train to complete a major milestone in support of a cause that means a lot to me personally and to too many others. So I’ll keep doing that. (Maybe with a taser in hand, but that’s a discussion for another day.)