#MilesForMollie seeks to unite all female runners
In the two weeks since 20-year-old University of Iowa student Mollie Tibbetts was found murdered after having gone for a run in her rural hometown of Brooklyn, Iowa, the nation’s running community has come together in mourning — and solidarity.
The hashtag #MilesForMollie was established in her honor — enabling fellow female runners to express both their grief over her tragic demise and determination not to let fear prevent them from doing what they love.
Unfortunately, vast numbers of female runners report feeling vulnerable every time they lace ‘em up and leave their homes.
In a 2016 Runner’s World survey, 43 percent of female respondents said they’d been subjected on a regular basis to harassing behavior (catcalls, whistles, honked horns, sexual propositions, etc.) that made them feel unsafe.
Even more troubling, 54 percent of women said that, prior to their solo runs, they feared assault or unwanted physical contact, and 30 percent had at least once been followed by a car, cyclist or pedestrian while running.
By its nature, distance running is a solitary, almost meditative activity. It should enable one to do his or her deepest thinking — or to not think at all.
But in a New York Times editorial published last week, Talya Minsberg wrote of the dilemma she and fellow female
runners experience and why Tibbetts’ death has hit them all so hard: “We know that we can never totally zone out on a run, to enter that magical outof-body Zen space fueled by endorphins, without keeping at least part of our mind firmly on earth. We know we have a set of rules about personal safety of which our male runner friends are, for the most part, unaware.”
Indeed, the Runner’s World survey noted that only 4 percent of male runners reported experiencing any harassment.
Even in South Florida, where female runners can usually find populated, well-lit areas to do their training, local women know better than to let their guard down — especially because a certain amount of harassment has come to be expected.
“I get whistled and yelled at every time I run,” said Boca Raton resident Lauren Ludka.
The 29-year-old Jet Blue flight attendant explained that she “won’t listen to headphones and I take my cell phone on every run.” Because of her job, Ludka often runs in different cities. Her mother and boyfriend have access to her cell phone tracker “if something were to ever happen.”
She also eschews running at night — and the only time she’ll do pre- sessions is with her training partner, fellow Boca Raton resident Melissa Perlman.
Perlman, 36, an experienced and highly decorated local runner, is vigilant about “being super aware of my surroundings regardless of running in the daylight or dark.”
By running on “main roads near where I live and avoiding any isolated paths or quieter streets,” Perlman said she doesn’t feel as vulnerable as she might otherwise.
However, all it takes is one harrowing incident to leave a lifetime impression of how vulnerable women — not just runners — can be.
Bonnie Barr, a Delray Beach mother of two daughters and avid runner, explained what she experienced as a teenager: “I was in front of my home hanging out with my brother and some friends. It was just after dusk when a car pulled up asking for directions. Within what seemed like milliseconds, the occupant of the car grabbed my girlfriend by the arm, pulled her into the car, and sped off into the night. The horror of seeing that — and what we later found out she endured — is forever etched in my memory. Since then, my situational awareness has always been at a heightened state.”
Thankfully, worst-case scenarios like Barr’s, Tibbetts’ and the string of 2016 female-runner murders are rare.
But that they do happen is why all women must be on guard every
time they leave their homes.