JOHANNESBURG - The worry starts long before the run.
Is there still enough sunlight to see me through the entire run?
Should I take my phone? If I take my phone, won’t I be drawing attention to myself?
Is it on silent?
Is my moon bag visible? Hmm… maybe it should be so that it is clear that I have nothing of value.
Are these pants appropriate?
Which route should I take? Wait, I went this way on Tuesday, let me try a different route today to confuse the enemy.
And so it goes, even before setting foot on the tar.
Then, you begin, and you must balance the need to get fresh air into your lungs with more questions.
Did I see someone following me? Wait, is that car slowing down?
I should probably greet that person to keep the peace.
Snap, maybe this road is too quiet - what have I done?
But the sun is still out – surely, they would not?
The sun is starting to set; I need to head back.
It is busy here, I’m safe, right?
A laundry list of questions.
A simple recreational activity has become a never-ending jigsaw puzzle of safety measures.
It is also the fear you have for other women. Worry when you drive past a solo dawn runner. Others head out with music plugged into their ears.
The guilt of running past certain spots.
The blame game you play in your head when you are still out beyond an unofficial-but-common-sense-ish curfew.
‘Why are you not carrying pepper spray?’
The catcalling and rationalising which of the comments are genuine banter or veiled threats.
Endless.
It’s also envy. In summer, you see men on solo post-sunset runs, flashes of their headlamps and neon-coloured Tees, a reminder of what you dare not do.
WhatsApp groups are now buzzing with the coordination of schedules and the anxiety of warnings about ‘running alone.’ But this is not new. Yes, we are addressing it now because of recent events, but the fear of running alone as a woman did not start now.
It is an uncomfortable reality you make peace with so you can keep moving. What this has done is once again expose the fear we store away long enough to sometimes believe that things are fine. It has uncovered our misguided attempts at gaslighting ourselves into believing that the apprehension is invalid.
As has now been confirmed, the apprehension is quite valid. Our collective guard will go up with even more layers. We will once again strain our necks, change direction, summon just enough energy for one last sprint past that area.
Maybe we are paranoid. But what else can we do when violent crime - not just against runners - is as routine as a jogger heading out for their afternoon run?
By Hloni Mtimkulu