Earlier this week, I woke up to join my main running squeeze for a morning shake-out. Much to my pleasant surprise, a quick check of the weather told me I should put on a short-sleeve shirt, a decision I reserve for the 5 degree range between 50 and 55. I often joke with my friends that there's not much use for short-sleeved running shirts: if it's warm enough to run without sleeves, it's warm enough that I want to run shirtless. My internal temperature runs a bunch warmer than most : I'm the first one in shorts in the spring and the last one into tights in the winter. A teammate still likes to tell the story of my first Hounds practice, saying "There was this crazy girl who showed up in a blizzard in shorts and a t-shirt, it couldn't have been 20 degrees out!" I still claim it was 40, and not snowing, but his point was well-taken. Maybe it's because I grew up in Montana, but I've always erred on the side of being cold rather than warm when running.
Anyway, I was really excited for a break from the muggy summer running. After meeting up with L, the temperature rose a few degrees and I decided it was time to ditch my shirt. Less than one block later, I heard an all-too-familiar sound: the sound of a car horn honking on a street with no traffic. We joked that it was the third time in a row that we'd run together and gotten unwelcome attention. L added, "And we're even wearing shirts!" As she glanced over, she revised, "Or, we were..."
Afterwards, I mentioned that the last few weeks had been particularly bad for street harassment, and L said she'd noticed a marked increase in rude shouts and honks, too. She said she'd done an hour-plus long workout the week before where two men walking on the track had stared at her for the entire workout. She felt really uncomfortable, and after she had finished, she said hi to them as she passed, hoping they'd realize that she had noticed them staring, and they'd realize it was rude to do so. Instead, one of them asked her how old she was!
I told her another story about the day before, when another friend and I were running home from practice. We were talking about our plans for a camping trip, and I wasn't paying very close attention to anything else. Someone on a bike shouted at us; I assumed that, given we were on the throughway between grad student neighborhood and school, it was a friend from school though I didn't see them as they rode down the street. I said, "Hi, how are you?" in response, not thinking about it. He then responded, leeringly, "I LIKE you!" I was clearly wrong in guessing who it was, and what he'd said to us: my friend told me he'd first yelled "Hey, sweetie!" in a tone that implied more familiarity with us than he deserved. I mentioned to this friend too that I'd been yelled at a lot, and she'd joked, "Well, you are always running in a sports bra... I'm kidding, I'm kidding."
Anyway, the last few weeks I've been yelled at a lot, even for the summertime, and it had given me ample reminders to think about how vulnerable all that unwanted attention makes me feel. L doesn't want to be stared at while she labors through her tempo run, and no one wants to be hit on by a stranger on the street. Both of my friends, who are both strong, independent, liberal women, made jokes about what I was wearing, even though they both run in the same amount of clothing when it's hot out. I do get more attention during the summer, but there are also more pedestrians to notice me. I'm sure more people notice me when I'm wearing short shorts and a sports bra than when I'm bundled up in thick clothing from head to foot, and I feel less comfortable when people stare at me. But I'm optimizing my clothing choice for physical comfort and performance, not for the attention I get on the street. And I don't think anyone has more right to yell or stare or honk or leer at me or my friends because of my clothes. Any idiot should know that yelling or staring or honking or leering at a woman you don't know, regardless of her appearance, doesn't impress her: it creeps her out and means you're a creep and a jerk. And yet, wearing less clothing is correlated with more attention from creeps. These things are at odds: the ethics of creeper behavior is independent of my clothing, but creeper behavior is strongly correlated with my clothing choice.
I'm frustrated that women have to worry about their safety more than men. I'm frustrated that anyone has to worry about their safety at all. I'm downright pissed that there are men in the world who either think it's fun or funny or cool to creep the fuck out of women for their own amusement, even if they don't have intent to actually stalk or hurt us.
I don't really know that there's a simple solution to my conundrum (wear a shirt and be even more disgusting, sweaty, and uncomfortable while training at around 90 miles a week in the disgusting heat and humidity that is Pittsburgh summer or get more attention from creeps?). On the other hand, I don't want to end this post without some thoughts as to how I intent to proceed. I think I'll probably end up wearing a shirt about as often as usual (read: almost never between May and September), partially I want people to be less shocked by a woman exercising in shorts and sports bra, and the more common that sight is, the less shocking it should become. I do, even now, choose to cover up if I know I'll be running in a place with which I'm less familiar, or by myself at night: generally, whenever I feel more vulnerable. The fact of the matter is, running without a shirt is usually a choice I make to be more comfortable, and there are situations where wearing a shirt can increase my psychological comfort level, even when it's hot out.
