Blank Reflection: Black America and Distance Running
By Byron Grevious
Black America doesn’t do my sport. We just don’t. My journey to cross country and track was similar to many distance kids. From kindergarten, my one goal was to make it far in soccer. The international love of soccer easily catered to athletes from every ethnic and socioeconomic background imaginable playing together as a team. And so, for the first 8 or so years of my athletic career, my presence as a Black athlete on the soccer pitch did not disturb me. However, the new chapter in my athlete journey as a runner has vastly impacted not only my awareness as a Black runner but also the message and responsibility that comes with it. Ever since I started cross country in the fall of my freshmen year, I have fallen in love with the community surrounding me. I witnessed and have continued to see the way a sport that requires, in solidarity, the fundamentals of human movement, a space where I have always felt welcomed. I have only recently become aware of the lack of representation in my sport. Of course, there are classic homegrown American heroes like Steve Prefontaine and Dick Beardsley who came from humble beginnings to shine on a world stage, but I’ve never felt the visceral connection to them that we all strive for in a role model. For the past 2 years or so, this connection has fallen on the elite runners of Kenya and Ethiopia. Now I realize that was just a lazy choice, however. Don’t get me wrong, Eliud Kipchoge will always inspire my athletic goals, but seeing athletes of a similar skin color sealed the deal for me early on. My idolization of these East African runners always led to an uncomfortable conversation, though:
“Oh, are you Kenyan too?” They’d say.
“Um, I don’t know if I’m actually Kenyan.” I’d have to say to them. When what I really want to shout is:
“No! I have no idea where I’m from, nor will I ever really know! Too many generations lost across the Atlantic, I guess, sorry!”
I never liked these conversations, but as I looked through the running community, I couldn’t find anyone else to match my needs. However, I have never found it difficult to be a Black cross country/distance runner. That is until outdoor track season rolls around every year and the other teams assume I am a sprinter. How can I blame them? How many Black distance runners have they seen before? And while that definitely rubs off on me, it has never discouraged me from pursuing the sport I love. This feeling of isolation, however, is what I fear might drive away future runners like myself. Aside from my personal goals aimed toward Division 1 athletics, I want to learn how I can become a role model for the next generation of Black distance runners. I believe direct exposure and continued inclusivity of cross country to less represented groups are vital steps we need to take to ensure growth in the sport.