Run Free, Stay Safe: The Impossible Double Standard Facing Women Who Run

‘You don’t want to end up on the common with your knickers around your neck.’

That’s a phrase I was told in childhood, over and over. I can guarantee men weren’t warned of these sickening possibilities—or made to feel responsible for their own fate.

Girls are policed and are made aware that their gender puts them at risk from a young age. These small messages about where girls should or shouldn’t go—where they should or shouldn’t be seen, how they are discouraged from just ‘hanging out’ in public compared to boys, their curfews, and even crossing their legs or wearing shorts under their skirt at school all act as microaggressions.

Quietly but loudly, these rules and messages tell girls their body is something someone might want to access, and their safety is their responsibility. Society and parental fear for the female body (whether correct or not) permeates girls’ nervous systems. This messaging means that as girls become women, we are always left asking ourselves: is it safe to go here? Should I wear that? Am I safe?

The Contradiction at the Heart of Women’s Running: Freedom Comes With Fear

Running has allowed me to reject this and has provided me so much freedom, but no matter how far I run free—from marathons to trail runs, to sub-20 min 5ks—I am often still left asking: how free can I really be?

When I started researching my PhD in 2020, many people—and by people, I mean men—asked me, “What? Where can’t you run? The canal? Well, that’s fine; I wouldn’t go there either”. They just didn’t, and arguably still do not get it.

This layer of mental maths that men simply don’t consider is what I feel most rage about. UN Women UK found that 71% of women have faced public sexual harassment. Girlguiding UK found that nearly 30% of girls experienced their first instance of sexual harassment between the ages of 11 and 13—often once this has happened, women and girls begin limiting themselves, working to ensure that incident doesn’t happen again. Women and young girls take on the work to protect themselves, and it is an unfair burden. Freedom and enjoyment become secondary to safety, and their lives are led by fear rather than freedom.

Men mostly do not see the mental labour and the effect of small incidents. It’s not that all women have been attacked, but most will have experienced microaggressions—from catcalls, to cheers, leering or worse, a man trying to touch or grab you and physically assault you. All while also being gaslit and told that it was ‘just a bit of fun’. It all sounds a bit Harvey Weinstein, doesn’t it?

If the comment section of my Instagram posts is anything to go by—many men feel they understand, as they are statistically more likely to be mugged. What they don’t fully grasp is that for women, these attacks can be life-altering physical and sexual assaults (including rape). Perhaps men are more likely to be mugged or attacked, because they are more likely to take risks. Women are taught that their bodies will be pursued by men—and that it's our problem.

It’s a spectrum of lived fear—from the catcall to assault—and very few women have been untouched by this. Working to not get raped or attacked was one of the main hobbies of my 20s. What if men spent as much time thinking about their safety as they do their split times? Women must.

Responsibilities Never Reaching the Root Cause of the Problem

Something that has baffled me recently is the heightened volume of social media ‘tips’ about how to stay safe running in the dark. Let me be very clear on this one: you don't need tips, and women don't need to do anything. Ashling Murphy was murdered on a run in broad daylight. These messages—although well-intended—are damaging and have to stop. The onus should not be on women.

These ‘tips’, strategies and even sometimes clothing advice tell women the risk is their responsibility, and the responsibility never reaches the cause of the problem: men. We need to stop handing out ‘tips to stay safe’ to women and begin educating young men and boys and calling out unacceptable behaviours.

When something does happen, women are asked what they were wearing, where they were running, or whether they had headphones in, and the list goes on. Victim blaming is easier than recognising that we need societal change—even in the messaging, ‘Violence against women and girls’ puts the onus on women, when in reality we need to start calling it male violence—because that is what it is.

We need to talk about women’s safety honestly—recognising the barriers that women face and limitations that exist. We need action to overcome male violence. And just for the absolute record, police presence is not the answer. Many women do not feel safe around the police either.

Running Exposing Reality

My doctoral research found that running exposes where women feel they can and can’t go. When you run, you’re out longer, covering more of the city, in kit that men seem to think permits them to comment. So—women hit those boundaries harder. And the boundaries move: a route that feels fine in July can feel off-limits in November. Each woman has a mental map of the city of where she will and won’t go and a list of what makes her feel good. Recognising this additional mental labour is part of the work we all need to do.

The other key finding is that safety on the street can’t be separated from everything else. If women aren’t safe at home, with people they know, how can they be expected to overcome fear outside?

As a designer and architect—many think we can design out fear—and design is part of the answer. Most designers and architects are men (69% of architects are men) who design based on their experiences. When women aren’t part of those decisions, spaces end up designed around a default user who isn’t us. Simple things can improve perceptions of safety, like good lighting, clear sightlines, routes through parks that aren’t isolated after dark, and places that feel busy and looked after. But as Leslie Kern, the author of Feminist City: Taking Up Space in a Man-Made World, once said, ‘no amount of lighting can abolish the patriarchy’.

The biggest change isn’t a handbook of design fixes or ‘run club rules’. The issues are too layered for a checklist. Women need power: a seat at the table when space, community experiences and brand activations are planned, and women’s lived experience treated as evidence, not anecdotes or ‘nice to haves’.

Creating spaces like Nike After Dark where women can feel seen and heard about the limitations they face is crucial. The event was built around women’s experiences and is hugely empowering, bringing together over 5000 women. The first year we organised it, which was last year, someone at Nike asked me, “Do you think we will sell out?”. I had no doubt how much women would connect with this space based on my PhD—women want to run, and they want women-led, women-designed spaces to do so.

Tickets for After Dark sold out within hours, which really just showed how desired women-only spaces are and that women need to be given space in running, not expected to mould into and around male-led spaces. I witnessed women crying at the finish line, and many spoke of how safe and inspired they felt. Women coming together creates a unique space for healing, and it needs more support.

Continuing Conversations That Inspire Change

A race brings women together, but the conversation afterwards is where transformation happens. I created Taking Space during my PhD, a series of events that has lived on beyond the PhD and brought together over 300 women through runs and panel talks. Taking Space talks openly about these issues and challenges the perceptions and restrictions we have been put under in a safe and supportive environment. We ask questions like: how can we take up more space? And men are invited into the panel as male support is vital to progress.

To return to where we began—and society's obsession with tips or ‘guidance’ for women—instead, I urge us all to turn to our collective responsibility. The most practical thing communities can do is to build spaces where women can run together—in mixed or single sex groups so that training is not hindered by the mental maps and lists women have had to take on just to run in the same way as men. There need to be moments in the week when the burden can be relieved.

These spaces need to be protected with supportive policies, located near tube stations or other transport nodes and with clear governance. Run clubs and communities need to look at how they are structured; similarly to how workplaces are having to address leadership inequality, we need to look at why so many run clubs have only male leadership who have no lived experience of the issues women face and therefore do not ensure this is considered when planning runs, routes, meet-ups and races. I want to be very clear: this is not a men vs. women or women vs. men discussion; it will require a collective effort to create change.

Nobody ever warned the boys about the common. To this day, almost all the advice is aimed at women: don’t run alone, don’t run in the dark, don’t wear headphones. Whereas actually, we'd be better off offering advice for men. Take responsibility for each other, call out a mate, give women space. Don’t see it as someone else’s problem—make sure you’re really listening.

Women need to be listened to and heard without defensiveness. Real steps must be taken to make women feel safe, without placing the burden on women to create that change. And men, if you still don’t know what to do? Well, that's a you problem.