“There is something magical about running; after a certain distance, it transcends the body. Then a bit further, it transcends the mind. A bit further yet, and what you have before you, laid bare, is the soul.”
― Kristin Armstrong
Being inside for too long makes me…itchy. My body, my soul, aren’t meant to be confined to four walls. It is absolutely necessary for me to open the door and step outside each and every day – to feel the sunlight on my face, or the wind as it whips my hair into disarray, even rain and snow are of no bother to me. There is a deep, innate longing to connect with the natural world and it has to be satisfied. While this time outside takes different forms on different days, running has remained a constant in my life since the age of 8 and it is one of my favorite ways of communing with the natural world.
I started running because it is what I saw my Mom doing. She’d step out of our house each morning and be gone for 30 – 40 minutes, returning sweaty and satisfied. At some point, she brought my brother and I along on bikes, and shortly after I asked to join on foot. I remember one of my very first runs with her was about 2 miles in length (I am sure I walked some of this), weaving through the farmland that lay between our house and my grandmother’s. Running came easy to me, I found joy in the way my body seamlessly adapted to the motion, the way it left me breathless and muscles fatigued. I was a strong runner, and competed in the sports of cross country and track through my college years. Not only did I love the way that running made my body feel, I loved the gateway it provided me to explore new environments.
While I no longer run competitively, I continue to lace up my shoes and venture out on a run at least once a week. I love to run with a close girl-friend, though I think my favorite way is to run … alone. This time of solitude allows me to slow my mind, becoming more aware of the thoughts that are darting through it. At the same time, when I run, I am able to move into my body. When I am alone I have the gift of choosing the pace that I run at, as well as the distance. I can relax into a rhythm that is intuitive to me, balls of my feet hitting the pavement at a steady beat, my legs loosening and expanding in stride. And once I am in this space, I begin to open my eyes to the world that is around me. With each new place that I move to, each new place that I travel to, all I need to do is pull on a pair of running shoes and I have miles of territory to explore and sites to discover.
Which brings me to a recent work trip I took to Indianapolis. After a day of networking within the confines of the conference hotel, I had two glorious hours to myself and a strong desire to get outside and move. As I gazed out the floor to ceiling windows of my hotel room, my eyes caught sight of a walking path running adjacent to a river. With the sun shining and the temperatures rising into the low 40’s, a desire welled up to go for a run. But, following on the tail end of that desire, a thought bubbled up that caused me to hesitate, “Is it safe?”
I have run alone many times. Not until recently did safety even really become a consideration to me. Call it naivety, but I’ve run in the dark of the morning, down remote country roads, through the busy streets of foreign cities, and not once stopped to question whether or not I should be concerned. But new stories of attacks on women running alone have come across my social media news feed and as a result that seedling of fear was planted.
It angers me that as a woman we even need to stop and ask ourselves, “But is this safe to do alone?” Whether it be a run along a city river, a hike through a forested mountain pass, or a bike ride in wine country, time alone in nature is a gift. It isn’t right that such a gift be taken from us due to our sex. I don’t want to give up this gift. And so, while the fear is rightfully there, I refuse to let this fear dictate my decisions around how I spend time outside, beyond the locked doors of my home or a hotel room.
So while the thought of safety did cause me to hesitate, I ultimately decided to pull on my shoes and step out of the hotel for some time alone in the sunshine, along a river, in a city that I am not at all familiar with. Now, with this decision to exercise my own power, I also take on responsibility. This responsibility involves measures of safety that allow me to run with more ease and confidence. Some of the measures that I execute include the following:
- I run in daylight
I love to run in the morning, first thing as the sun is just beginning to peak up over the horizon. I have spent numerous mornings running alone in darkness, coyote eyes peering out at me from behind bushes. I don’t do this anymore though. I just can’t relax enough into the run to enjoy it, and so I just don’t. I wait until the sun is up (at least somewhat) and I can get a better sense of what (and who) is around me.
- I run with my phone on me
Running is such an incredible way to unplug, to disconnect from the world for a little bit. That being said, my phone is also my lifeline to people who can help me if something goes wrong. I have actually found myself in situations, in the dark, amongst some questionable people, where I didn’t have my phone and those situations scared me. Which is why I now run with my phone, even if it is tucked away in a zipped up pocket, I like to have it there…just in case.
- I map my run before I go
Unless it is a run I have been on before, I like to map my run before I go. Yes, this limits the “explorative” and “spontaneous” aspect of the run a bit. But, it does mean that I am much less likely to get lost. When I map my run I can choose the streets and areas of the city that I am going to travel through, meaning I can choose “safer” routes. Also, it means I am a lot less likely to look like a confused (and vulnerable) tourist.
- I let someone know that I am going for a run
Okay, no, I don’t always let someone know that I am going for a run. Sometimes I just decide to go for a run, and I go. But, when I am somewhere new or running a new route, I do try to let someone know. This way, if I don’t come back they have a sense of where to start looking for me, or to at least check in on my whereabouts.
Unfortunately, being a woman alone in the outdoors does pose risk, more risk than it would for a man. This sucks. I hope one day we can get to a place where this just isn’t the case. Until then, I’ve decided that I am not willing to give up the gift of time alone in the outdoors, or say no to spending time outside simply because I don’t have anyone to join me for the adventure. While I take steps to minimize my risk, the risk is still there. I know that. That’s okay. I have decided that this is something I am going to embrace. I need to be able to get outside, to lace up my shoes and go for a run along a river in a city that is unfamiliar to me. The need for time in nature comes from the core of my being, it is what allows me to find my way home to myself even when in unfamiliar land, and sometimes I will need to escape to nature…alone.
And so, now I ask you: Have you ever let fear keep you from exploring on your own in the outdoors? If yes, what specific fear haunts you? How might this fear be limiting you? How might you learn to work with this fear in a way that feels a bit less intimidating?
I am wishing you some time, alone, in nature this week ❤.
If you’re looking for some additional reading on women running safely alone, I found this article to be helpful: https://medium.com/runners-life/why-i-run-alone-and-how-to-do-it-safely-as-a-woman-fa83f78118dc
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