Running for Others
Reflections on privilege and perspective.
It’s been a bit of a heavy week. On Tuesday, I interviewed Sarah Porter, a runner who had to be pulled out of the Montane Spine Challenger South on 12th January because she was receiving death threats, and her safety on course was compromised. She was fundraising for young women in Afghanistan. I won’t go into more details here, I will simply link you to the article on iRunFar.
It all just got a bit real. It was sweet talking to Sarah about how gutting it was to not be able to finish the race, to be able to share in that feeling a little bit. Regardless of circumstance, not getting to complete a race is a universal feeling. Regular readers of this Substack will know that I’m a serial DNFer. To be fair to myself, the last two times were slightly beyond my control, an ankle sprain, then Covid + hypothermia, but the gravity of Sarah’s situation made my own pity parties on course feel frankly embarrassing.
While women in Afghanistan are not even allowed to speak in public, while young women cannot even receive an education, the freedom we have in the West to step out of the door and run and exercise and largely feel safe doesn’t even seem like the same planet. The injustices women face in the U.K. are still extremely serious and valid, but we exist in a culture of relative equality, from which phenomenal women like Sarah are reaching out a hand to other women across the globe and pulling them up. It’s as life-affirming as it is harrowing.
At the end of our chat, the message Sarah left me with was how pressing it is, especially now, for all of us to stand up and speak out for what we believe in. I told her I struggle to believe an individual has any real power. I’ve since reflected that this is probably a symptom of simply being a millennial in the U.K. in 2026: even when we all vote for something, the country is split and we all lose. Capitalism discourages community and collaboration. We’re all just scrabbling around in the dark of our own homes, if we have them. I dream of living in a community built on permaculture, sharing resources and ideas, but I also just want to live in a house in the middle of the woods, relying only on myself. Others can’t be trusted. Only my herd can be trusted. Others vote for Brexit, others vote for Donald Trump, others beat young Afghan women to death in front of their friends’ eyes.
Things got heavy again, things got real, I’m sorry. Sarah responded with this quote: “You think you don’t have any power? Have you ever been to bed with a mosquito?” I laughed out of surprise, out of relief, yes maybe there is a way through. Only a day or so later, I heard about the gene drive to genetically modify mosquitos and reduce the number of them carrying malaria. My analogies get confused here. Can the mosquito we go to bed with end up being made ineffectual? Or can we all work together to break the rules of inheritance?
When I’ve thought about dropping from a race before, I am galvanised to keep going because the representation of women in ultra running is small, and I need to finish to keep the numbers up. I need to be part of a data set that proves to other women that we can do it, and do it well. When I drop, I’m letting the side down. This week, and hopefully forever, that pool of women I need to keep running for feels larger. I want to do it for the women who can’t. The women who never will. And the women like Sarah who are making it possible that someday, those women could.
In other news…
In lighter news! Okay I don’t know how many other people will get this humour, it’s pretty specific to American trail running, but I am OBSESSED with Dylisms on Instagram. The dude is a total genius. It’s not my usual style of comedy at all, but he has just got me. I’ve watched this one approximately 72,000 times.
Heather Jackson is back with another YouTube series, this time all about being an elite athlete after 40 years old. There are beautiful moments when she questions whether a workout feels hard just because she’s rebuilding fitness, or because she’s getting older.
I found a song thrush RSPB pin badge this week! I had a good dig through the box of pin badges at my local arts centre and literally jumped for joy when I found it. I’ve wanted one since I was completely mesmerised by their song during a sunsrise in December.
After my post last week about my local field turning into a housing estate, my friend Craig Rumble sent me some beautiful photos he’s taken over the years. I want to share them all, but for now, here’s a joyful moment of spring:
And here it is shortly after the last application to develop on it was overturned. The farmer is massively in favour of the development, and Craig thinks he let the field go wild out of some lame form of protest:
Doesn’t it look gorgeous?! You can almost hear the crickets, feel the butterflies, wonder at the bees and ladybirds. Lighter, warmer days are always ahead.