Don’t be a creepy runner

Recently, I plodded along my regular running route lost in an audiobook playing from my phone, paying no attention to passers-by. A woman ran in front of me with some audio-fix of her own streaming through her headphones. Going at a faster pace, I soon caught up to her. As I pulled beside her to pass, she jumped and yelped, startled, which in turn startled me. I can’t recall if I let out a sound of any kind, or my bewildered expression spoke for itself. In any case, as soon as we recognized a fellow runner in the other, we both smiled. I waved apologetically, she waved dismissively and without the word our momentary thriller was resolved.

Although the scene lasted only a fleeting second, it stayed with me for much longer. It was a harmless episode with no ill intentions for sure, just a couple of runners lost in digital distractions, jolted by the proximity of each other. The woman could not possibly mistake me for a creepy stalker. Or, could she?

It brought to mind a blog post I read recently. Christian Coleman, the blogger, is a young black man, 6-foot-tall and fit, as he describes in his article. One day he went for a run and along his usual route he came behind a female runner. His average pace was faster than hers and she seemed to run on his regular path, which created a conundrum for Christian: if he continued his own pace, soon he would be right behind her, and maybe she’d feel threatened or scared. If he slowed down to her pace leaving some space between them and she noticed him, she could equally feel that he is following her. What was he to do?

Male runners rarely feel threatened while out for a run by themselves. That’s why we have difficulties understanding the uneasiness female runners occasionally face . It doesn’t need to come from physical abuse. Sometimes a creepy runner, or a weird situation can be just as frightening. Take, for example, what happened to Karen Cordano: going for a Sunday morning run she passed by a man on a bicycle and gave him a friendly wave, as she does to almost everybody she passes during the run. A short while later, the same man, a fit, tall guy, suddenly appeared to run alongside her. He didn’t say hi, didn’t talk, just ran by her elbow and followed her every turn and change of pace. The longer he hung by her side the more freaked out she got. Finally, she did a u-turn and ran away from him, shaken. Then she called her husband to come and pick her up, too scared to continue her run.

So, how is a guy to run behind a woman without scaring her out of her wits? Until the startling episode I described earlier, I never gave it much thought. I live and run in Markham, Ont., a quiet, low-crime city. I don’t think women feel especially threatened by the running men here. I’ve passed all kinds of runners, male and female; some were lost in thoughts, some pretended not to see me, some glared as if I stole something of theirs, but many more were friendly, smiling, waving. Overall, I’d say runners are the friendliest bunch you can pass on the street.

Of course, the more I run the more often I’ll come onto a female runner from behind. What I usually do in such cases is — I don’t change a thing in my running. If I’m going faster, I just keep going until I pass her. I may try to make more noise when I get close, to let her know I’m coming. Sometimes I’d speed up just to pass faster, so she wouldn’t think that I’m following her. When I’m passing, I give her wider berth and usually wave and try to say something friendly and unthreatening. It had never happened that they didn’t smile or wave back.

Still, just like in a bank or on public transit, while running we should also respect private space. If coming onto a runner — male or female — from behind, try not to run right onto their back, make yourself heard and, once you’re close to passing them, leave some extra space. If you happen to run the same pace, talk to her, make a friendly observation and, if you notice that she feels uneasy, be a gentleman and change your route away from hers.