The surprising reason running with women makes me feel warm and fuzzy

The surprising reason running with women makes me feel warm and fuzzy

A few Sundays ago I ran the More/Shape Women’s Half-Marathon – and I had so much fun! The weather was lovely, with cool temperatures, no humidity and endless sunshine. My training had been solid and I had slept well the night before. The race followed my usual running route, so I knew the route well.

But what ended up being the absolute highlight of the race for me surprised me. It wasn't the beautiful view of the park or the fact that I beat my goal time by almost two full minutes (hey, humble bragging is good for you!). What I liked most about the race was that it was an all-women’s race. (Get in shape with our 30-day running challenge!)

I had barely thought about it before I arrived at the park that Sunday morning. Then, as I was standing in line for the Port-A-Potties, someone made a “figure, the lines are so long, it’s a women’s race!” joke. I looked around and - oh, that's right - all the ladies, with a few male spectators in between holding the babies and extra sweatshirts and cameras.

Then later, somewhere between miles 1 and 2, the course took a turn and I had a clear view of the mass of racers in front of me. That's when I saw it - hundreds of sunlit ponytails bouncing up and down in time with their owners' feet. To be honest, I got a little emotional. Then I thought: What was that?

The whole race was like that. I didn't hear any music (because I do sometimes), so all I heard were the race volunteers and spectators cheering us on ("Come on ladies, you're almost at the top!"), the soft tapping of sneakers on the paved track, and women's voices and breathing all around me. I felt comfortable in a way that surprised me - I guess because I don't find myself particularly uncomfortable around men during races. But the all-female audience felt uniquely inclusive and empowering.

I was proud too. These days, female runners are commonplace. In fact, women race much more often than men. But just 50 years ago, running was considered a man's sport — so much so that when Roberta "Bobbi" Gibb attempted to run the Boston Marathon in 1966, she was told that "women are physiologically incapable of running 26.2 miles." The longest race non-pros were allowed to run was 1.5 miles!

And yet here I was, surrounded by running women. It was strangely empowering. Add in the go-girl support and camaraderie that was palpable along the course, and I couldn't stop smiling as I trudged to the finish line. Once I crossed it, I lingered for a while, watching one woman after another take their final steps - many of them doing so while walking hand in hand with the runner next to them, which only added to the warm fuzzy I was feeling.

More than anything, I had an overwhelming feeling of being home. Let's face it, there are some things about running that only other runners can understand - and the same goes for being a woman. So being among runners who were also women felt like I was finding my people. Everyone understood the struggle of finding a decent sports bra. At least one person nearby had an emergency tampon. Replacement hair ties were plentiful. And we all did something really cool before noon on a Sunday. If I had listened to music, you know what I would have had on repeat.