Murphy’s Lore
I t’s not been a great year so far for female runners.
Back in February, research by Sport England’s This Girl Can campaign found that three in 10 women had faced harassment while exercising. In March, a global survey by Adidas found that 92% of female runners aged 16 to 34 felt concerned for their safety. That same month, The Guardian ran a story by Katy Guest, who recounted her own dreadful experience. A lorry driver pulled up on the pavement ahead of her, forcing her into the road. She swore at him, but he continued to follow her along the pavement, shouting abuse.
Guest says that this was not a one-off experience. In fact, she got back from runs so often feeling scared or upset that she’s now given it up altogether.
I wanted to rush round to Guest’s house and give her a hug. It’s just not right that in the 21st century, a woman should feel compelled to give up something she enjoys because of an idiotic stranger. My next action would be to invite her out for a run. My hope would be that as we ran, she’d be reminded of all the positive things and decide it was just too good to forfeit.
It’s a risky business commenting on women’s personal safety – but I am a woman and a long-standing runner, so I feel qualified to offer my opinion.
Too often, the onus on ‘staying safe’ gets put on to women – don’t go here, don’t dress like that, don’t go alone – rather than addressing the more pressing issue of how we make public spaces safe. For women to feel safer while running, men can play an active role in calling out inappropriate actions of others.
But I think we need to distinguish between perceived risk and actual danger when we talk about women’s
