On May 8th, 2020 I, along with thousands of other runners across the United States, went out and ran 2.23 miles to honor slain runner Ahmaud Arbery, a man who was killed by two white assailants for one reason and one reason only: Because he was black. May 8th was Ahmaud’s birthday. He would’ve been 26. We all ran 2.23 miles because he was killed on February 23rd.

I am a long distance runner who runs three to four marathons a year. Last year I ran seven marathons, the most marathons I’ve ever run in a year. I am currently training for the California International Marathon in December. I run. A lot.

I am also a 6’1″ 200 pound white man. I rarely feel uncomfortable running outside. I do not get heckled and harassed as much as many women runners do. Because of my size, many people do not try to confront or threaten me. And because I am white I don’t get racially profiled as black and brown people do.

Not to say I don’t get messed with ever. My race and gender isn’t always a shield. I have been heckled and sometimes harassed when I am out running around, but I’ve never been attacked or made to feel especially uncomfortable or unsafe because of someone I ran into while running.

Everyday life isn’t always smooth sailing either. I have been messed with by police officers for no good reason. I have been followed around stores as if I was going to steal something, and I’ve had to defend myself from random urban confrontations. But those occasions are somewhat rare. Like I said, I’m basically a big gorilla who looks like an extra from the Sopranos, so most people tend to leave me be.

It’s the thing that a lot of people in my position think about when they hear about white privilege or male privilege: The idea that we always cruise through and are never bothered or threatened and have it easy. The phenomena has spoken about more eloquently by other writers, when people get defensive about being confronted about their privilege.

But I know my race and my gender have shielded me from more than a few problems and confrontations. I also know that if I had been running down that road, I would not have been stopped or attacked. Those men would not have bothered me because they would not have been triggered by a white man running down the road. Ahmaud was killed for one reason only: Because of the color of his skin.

Every day people who are being harassed, hounded, followed around stores, messed with by police, and assaulted, all because of their race. It all seems like such an uphill battle, trying to fight against the hate and prejudice when yet another killing takes place. He joins the list with Oscar Grant, and Trayvon Martin, and Michael Brown, and others who met the same fate but whose names you will never know. Because this kind of violence happens all of the time.

When will it stop? When will the profiling and killing finally stop?

I ran 2.23 miles on Friday May 8th, 2020. And I continue to speak out against racism and racial violence. Because, for the moment, it’s all I can do.

The back of my Chicago Marathon shirt,
the night I did my 2.23 mile run for Ahmaud.