Miles in Her Shoes: The Abusive Reality Many Female Runners Face
BY: Dylan Kretchmar
During the 1967 Boston Marathon, Kathrine Switzer crossed the finish line as the first woman to compete as an officially registered runner, defying the era’s misogynistic insistence that women were physically incapable of endurance running. However, it wasn’t just the 26.2-mile course she had to overcome. Numerous race photographs captured Switzer and her companions being forced to fend off an incensed male race official, Jock Semple, who physically lunged at her in an attempt to rip off her bib and shove her off the course.
Trailblazers like Switzer paved the way for a global push and acceptance in female participation. Today, women participate in the sport in greater numbers than ever before. At the 2024 Summer Olympics, women comprised 50% of all competitors for the first time in history. By late 2025, Women’s Running Magazine reported that women now outnumber men in global road race participation (Heimlich, 2025).
However, participation levels haven’t translated into equal safety for female runners. While many barriers to entry have fallen, women continue to face disproportionate threats of verbal, physical, and sexual abuse. Headlines and social media feeds regularly recount stories of women being stalked, harassed, assaulted, kidnapped, and even killed while out on runs. Police photos of bloodied faces and broken noses serve as a grim reminder of the violence lurking on the trail.
She Wasn’t Running Alone; She was Attacked in Front of Hundreds
Kathrine Switzer remembers nervously milling around the starting line of the 1967 Boston Marathon, trying to ignore the questioning glances of the male competitors around her. While no official rule explicitly barred women, Switzer knew she wouldn’t be welcomed by everyone; after all, no woman had ever successfully registered and been approved. To bypass the gender barrier, she signed her entry form using only her initials, K.V. Switzer, and arrived on race day wearing a baggy sweatshirt and heavy sweatpants to obscure her silhouette (BBC, 2012).
The strategy worked – at first. When the starting gun fired, Switzer disappeared into the pack of 740 male runners, flanked by her coach, Arnie Briggs, and her boyfriend, Tom Miller, for support. She felt a surge of confidence, ready to prove her endurance (BBC, 2012).
However, just two miles in, the media truck carrying timers, photographers, and officials slowed to a crawl beside her. The cheers of the crowd were suddenly drowned out by a wave of agitated voices. Switzer heard the heavy thud of boots sprinting behind her and spun around to see the contorted, red face of race official Jock Semple (BBC, 2012). Before she could react, he lunged at her, grabbed her shoulders, and screamed, “Get the hell out of my race!”
Switzer felt a rush of disorientation, fear, and embarrassment as Semple groped at her chest and stomach, trying to rip the bib from her sweatshirt. His fingers hooked onto the loose fabric, and he tried to drag her off course. Cameras flashed around her, capturing every second of the assault.
Arnie and Miller immediately stepped in to fend him off, but their intervention only enraged Semple further. Half a mile later, the official returned in the truck, cursing loudly and threatening her again. When he made a second charge, Miller body-checked Semple, sending the official flying and allowing Switzer and Arnie to sprint ahead. Four hours later, Switzer crossed the finish line as the first woman to officially finish the race. She felt elated, but also deeply shaken (BBC, 2012).
Switzer wasn’t running alone. She wasn’t wearing revealing clothes. She wasn’t seeking attention or asking for it. Safety is not guaranteed by “proper” behavior. In recounting the story, Switzer describes Semple as “a man out of control,” but also “a man of his time.” While Switzer successfully tore down the barriers to entry, the spirit of Jock Semple remains a haunting presence for numerous females on the pavement. While public attacks during races like Semple’s are far less common now, the culture of entitlement and male aggression has not.
Most Female Runners Run Afraid
For many women, the joy and stress-relieving effects of running are often dampened by a need for hyper-vigilance. Despite growing female participation in running, safety remains one of the biggest concerns for women. The statistics paint a grim portrait of the daily reality for female runners.
A 2021 Runners’ World survey found that 60% of the 2,000 women surveyed experienced harassment and 25% regularly experienced Sexual Abuse (Miles et al., 2024). Data from RunRepeat.com reported that women are nearly 3 times more likely to get harassed while running than men (Believe, 2023). A 2022 report from The Guardian found that one in five women felt anxious about sexual harassment while exercising, while 30% had already experienced it firsthand.
A 2023 survey funded by N8 Policing Research revealed that out of 498 women, 68% had faced some form of abusive behavior on the trail (Miles et al., 2024). This included 58% who endured Verbal Abuse, 19% who were followed, and 7% who were flashed. Another 13% reported vehicular harassment, mainly from men in cars honking, shouting derogatory slurs, or aggressively accelerating toward them on isolated roads. Within this group, 13 women reported physical assault, and seven reported sexual assault. None of the participants reported acquisitive crimes like theft, suggesting that these attacks were motivated by gender-based hostility rather than financial gain (Miles et al., 2024).
A 2023 Adidas survey of more than 9,000 runners across nine countries found that more than half of the women surveyed were afraid of being physically attacked, while only 28% of men shared that fear (Believe, 2023). Of those women, 55% had received unwanted sexual attention, 53% had been honked at, and 50% had been followed (Believe, 2023). These fears are pervasive, with another study finding that 82% of female participants were constantly worried about their safety while out for a run (Miles et al., 2024).
Despite the frequency of these encounters, the vast majority of incidents go unreported. The N8 Policing Research survey found that 95% of women who experienced abuse did not go to the authorities (Miles et al., 2024). The reasons for this silence are systemic: many women felt the police would not consider the incidents serious enough to warrant action, while others had become so desensitized that the abuse felt like a normal part of their routine (Miles et al., 2024). Furthermore, the difficulty of obtaining a clear description of an attacker while fleeing often makes the prospect of a meaningful police report feel impossible.
The Reality of Self-Defense
The persistent threat has sparked a polarizing debate: how should women protect themselves?
Jamie, 40, was a few miles into her sunset loop jog around a popular lake park when she heard the sound of heavy footsteps behind her. Glancing back, she saw a man jogging a few paces behind her – nothing unusual for a busy trail. She hugged the right side of the path, leaving him ample room to pass, and tried to focus on her stride (Rizzo, 2022).
Yet he didn’t pass. For minutes, the heavy rhythm of his footsteps striking dirt mirrored hers, strike for strike. When Jamie looked back to signal her unease, she found him staring directly at her. She became acutely aware of the deepening shadows, the eerie silence of the thinning woods, and how few people were now around.
Deciding to cut her run short, Jamie pivoted to head back to the parking lot. As she turned, her stomach dropped. The man had stopped. His hands moved to the waistband of his shorts. In one swift, defiant motion, he shoved them down, exposing himself. He didn’t run; he just stood there, grinning at her fear (Rizzo, 2022).
Jamie didn’t hesitate. Screaming at him to stay back, she bolted down a connecting path toward the parking lot, cursing the fact that she’d left her phone behind. She didn’t hear him follow, and glancing back, she just saw him standing there, still grinning. Not even a few minutes later, Jamie heard footsteps again, rapid this time. He wasn’t pacing her anymore; he was hunting (Rizzo, 2022).With no one else in sight and her lungs burning, Jamie tried to plead with him, but he didn’t stop until he had her backed against the trees. She could feel the radiant heat from his sweaty skin. Driven by pure survival instinct, Jamie reached under her baggy sweatshirt and gripped her hip, feigning a draw. She told the man that she had a gun and that she would shoot him if he did not get away from her.
Immediately, the man’s demeanor shifted. Startled and suddenly fearful, he recoiled. His eyes locked on her hidden hand. As she moved as if to draw, he took another step back. He told her to “stay safe,” and began running back down the trail he had come from. It was fully dark now. Jamie didn’t stop running until she was locked inside her car, her heart hammering against her ribs. On that day, she made the decision that she would never run again without a gun (Rizzo, 2022).
Jamie’s story is not unique. Many women now carry “running rings” with hidden blades, pepper spray, or concealed firearms just to feel a semblance of safety. However, not every woman sees carrying a gun or knife as a viable option.
Traditional firearm and CCW (Carrying a Concealed Weapon) courses often emphasize static precision by teaching women to stand still and aim carefully. However, in the chaos of a high-stress ambush, these fine motor skills often fail and a weapon risks being turned against the victim. Consequently, many self-defense experts advocate for a “biological” approach: utilizing the voice, brain, elbows, and feet. These are tools that cannot be disarmed or used against the defender (Rizzo, 2022).
While strategies for physical protection vary, there is a fundamental consensus among advocates that this debate is a symptom of a deeper systemic issue (Rizzo, 2022). Ultimately, the focus should not rest solely on tactical proficiency but on the basic right to safety. Women should be able to go for a run without the inherent burden of fearing harassment or attack.
The Man Forced Her to the Ground and Covered Her Nose and Mouth with His Hand
It was a peaceful spring evening when “Eve” pulled into the C&O Canal Towpath gravel parking lot, looking forward to a relaxing meander after a stressful day at work. The lot was mostly vacant, with only a few other cars scattered around. Near one of them, a man sat perched on his trunk while swapping tennis shoes for boots (Jacoby, 2022). They exchanged a brief, ordinary smile.
Eve walked along the river for about an hour and enjoyed the peace and quiet. As the parking lot had suggested, there were very few others on the trail. Mindful of the passing time and the darkening sky, Eve decided it was time to head back. That is when she saw him again.
It was the same man in the same boots, but he was now dressed in dark clothes with a quick and direct pace. He seemed to be looking at her, though she could not see his eyes beneath a black cap pulled low. Something in her chest tightened. She reached for her phone, her fingers fumbling with the passcode as the situation shifted from tranquil to threatening (Jacoby, 2022).
The ground slammed into her. His weight crushed the air from her lungs. A large, rough hand clamped over her face, blocking her mouth and nose. She tried to scream, but it came out as a suffocated gasp. Gravel bit into her cheek, her palms, her knees. She couldn’t breathe.
“Shut up,” he growled, his voice hot against her ear. “Stop moving and I won’t hurt you.”
She didn’t.
She twisted, thrashed, fought for air, for escape, but he was too strong. His grip tightened until her movements weakened, her breath fading into panic.Sensing her submission, he grabbed her wrists and shifted off of her. He told her to get up and start walking towards the river. Eve nodded (Jacoby, 2022).
As he pulled her to her feet while still gripping her wrist, she forced words through her shaking breath. She told him that she had seen him earlier and that something had seemed off. As a precaution, she claimed she had snapped a picture of him and his license plate when he was not looking.
The man paused. He looked down at her body. Then at the path where her phone landed during the tussle. He let go of one of her wrists and told her to bend down and pick it up. Eve did as she was asked, but instead of handing it over, she threw it. The device skidded across the path. For a split second, his grip loosened as he turned toward it. She ran. Blind with adrenaline, she sprinted down the trail, lungs burning, legs barely holding. Her bloody fingers found her watch. She triggered the emergency call (Jacoby, 2022).
The operator’s voice steadied her, promising help was coming. But every step felt slower than the last. Every shadow behind her was shaped like her attack. Her ears strained, listening for his footsteps. Then, just as flashing lights flickered faintly through the trees, the line went dead. Her watch had died.
Eve didn’t stop. She crossed some train tracks, climbed uphill, heading towards those flashing lights. Her legs were just about to give out, when she spotted a single beam of light from a flashlight coming from her left.
She froze. For a moment, she thought it might be him.
Ducking behind a tree, she stayed hidden, barely breathing, until more lights appeared, voices calling out, identifying themselves. Only then did she step forward.
The police never found the man. Later, they would find her AirPods and the hat she’d lost in the struggle, but not her phone, and not him. He had disappeared without a trace (Jacoby, 2022). Eve’s case remained unsolved, and she wonders what might have happened to her if she hadn’t gotten away.
Do Not Blame Her
The current safety discourse often places the entire burden of prevention on women. They are told to vary their routes, avoid running at night, never use headphones, avoid revealing clothes like sports bras and fitted shorts, carry personal alarms or weapons – the list goes on and on.
When an attack occurs, the first questions asked are often: “Were you alone? What were you wearing? Did you have music playing?”
This is Victim blaming. These precautions, while practical in a broken system, do not address the root cause: the behavior of the perpetrators. A woman running in a sports bra with headphones at midnight is not asking for an assault any more than Kathrine Switzer was asking to be shoved in 1967. Until the culture of entitlement is dismantled, the finish line for safety remains miles away.
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References
BBC News. (2012, April 16). The real story of Kathrine Switzer’s 1967 Boston Marathon.https://www.bbc.com/news/magazine-1763202
Believe in the Run. (2023, May 13). 9 Running Safety Tips for Women, By Women.
https://believeintherun.com/9-running-safety-tips-for-women/
Heimlich, J. (2025, September 18). Women’s Running is Booming, So Do We Still Need
Women-Only Races? RUN. OUTSIDE https://run.outsideonline.com/road/road-culture/womens-running-is-booming-so-do-we-still-need-women-only-races/
Jacoby, Ceoli. (2022, March 7). Woman fights off attacker on C&O Canal Towpath near Point of Rocks. The Frederick News-Post. https://www.fredericknewspost.com/news/crime_and_justice/cops_and_crime/woman-fights-off-attacker-on-c-o-canal-towpath-near-point-of-rocks/article_6a725f00-6b89-511b-a365-537829bcc938.html
Miles, C., Broad, R., & Oldham, M. (2024, March). Abuse and harassment of women runners:
Briefing report. N8 Policing Research Partnership. https://www.n8prp.org.uk/wp-content/uploads/sites/315/2024/03/Briefing-Report-UoM-N8-Project-Abuse-of-Women-Runners-CM-RB.pdf
Rizzo, J. (2022, September 23). For US women who run, fear of assault is shockingly common – but the solution remains unclear. The Guardian. https://www.theguardian.com/sport/2022/sep/23/women-joggers-running-with-guns-firearms
