Running While Black

This morning I woke up and headed outside to for a two mile run around my property (I have lost count on how many weekends we have been on a national lock down.) I immediately felt the raindrops fall on my face and my arms and decided to run anyway. I didn't have miles to clock for #chicagomarathon training plan, having completed my required miles on Thursday of last week. But it is Sunday. And a common theme that I have shared on my blog posts is my fondness for Sunday running.

The plan was for a short and sweet two mile run to complete the challenge miles that I rolled out for my advanced running group earlier this week. And though I usually reserve my podcast listening for my longer runs, I decided to grab my phone and download the latest episode of #supportissexy. The topic? How to find your voice and how to use podcasting to share your message.

My emotions have been a bit on edge this week. Sandwiched in between the Monday morning throb in my ankle after my endurance run and my own unresolved issues in one of my personal relationships, was the memorial run for #AhmaudArbery. I had read some of the vague rumblings on social media about a young black man who had been killed and eventually during a downtime while working from home, I decided to Google this young man's story. I felt the discomfort rise to my chest. Because I always say that running is many things. And one of those things is a platform to speak on certain issues. I am a black woman. I am raising a black son, who aspires to be a professional runner one day. I manage a running group with other black women as members. I knew that I could not be silent on this issue.

Here in the Bahamas, as a female runner, the fear that lingers in the back of my mind is of being sexually assaulted, robbed or struck by a motorist in the early morning hours. The possibility of being racially targeted is far less likely. I lace up four to five mornings a week and manage to not let those thoughts dominate my running. And then I thought of the many times I leave the country to participate in distance running. I think of the many times I toss my running shoes in my carry on bag while packing for a short trip or vacation and that is as organic as packing a change of clothes. My memories took me back to August in Plantation, Florida running on the sidewalk outside of my hotel at 6:30 a.m. to see the sunrise. My memories took me back to October in Detroit, Michigan walking from my hotel to the start line for the Detroit Free Press Marathon before the sun even dared to rise. I remember when I returned home, my friends asked if I wasn't nervous and I replied "Nervous for what? I am a runner. Nobody is worrying about me. Everyone else is there doing the same thing."

I wonder how many mornings Ahmaud ran that same route in Georgia. How many times he laced up his tennis without a second thought. Because after all he was a runner. Nobody should have been worrying about him. Everyone else is on the road doing the same thing. That brought my own naivete right before my eyes. For the first time in a very long time, I laced up my running shoes Friday morning and stood under the street light near my house and contemplated how many times I may have been a target and never knew it. I turned on the flashlight on my phone and even though Friday was set to be a recovery day for me, I ran 2.23 miles to honor the memory of a man I don't know. Because that man could easily be my son one day. He could have been one of my running friends. He could have been one of my family members or friends who live abroad.

Once I completed my run, I looked into the future. I looked towards today. Mother's Day 2020. I looked to the one mother who won't get to hear her son wish her a happy Mother's Day. To that mother who mourned on what would have been her son's 26th birthday, while the global running community pounded the pavement in his memory. I looked to how I would perceive running in the future. I am reminded once again of how fleeting life is. I am reminded not to take running for granted. I am reminded not to take motherhood for granted. I am reminded not to take life for granted.

RIP Ahmaud

#IRunWithMaud #mothersday2020 #marathontraining #chicagomarathon #motherrunner #motherhood #reflections