Why Trail Running Isn’t As Welcoming As You Believe It Is

Cherie Louise Turner
Runner's Life
Published in
8 min readJul 1, 2024

Early this year, Western States Endurance Race (WSER) sponsor GU Energy Labs posted on Instagram that they were giving away two entries to “runners from historically excluded and underrepresented communities” for the 2024 WSER. Unsurprisingly, there was backlash.

This is just one in a long list of examples of how the trail running scene isn’t welcoming to all.

The reality is that trail running has an exclusivity problem, which really isn’t news at all. The Running Industry Diversity Coalition (RIDC) made that clear in a recent study, which Emilia Benton wrote about last year in a piece for trailrunner.

In the article, Benton highlighted that many BIPOC runners described the trail and ultra community “as being one of the least welcoming corners of the running space.” The article goes on to recognize how the running industry and community have moved away from discussions about racism since 2020, and how “key players in the trail scene have been hesitant to address issues of systemic racism to begin with.”

Trail running is and continues to be the whitest and most male niche of the running world. If you want to verify that, simply go to a trail race. Putting some numbers to this, roughly 25% of ultra participants are women, and that percentage goes down the longer the event gets (WSER was recently celebrated by the Pro Trail Running Association for making “amazing progress” because women’s participation is up to 27%; it’s sad that this is considered progress). Most of these women are white, which is also true of the more than 75% of participants who are men. In 2023, WSER had its highest number of Black finishers to date, which was a mere two runners (.005% of the field).

This is not because mostly only white men like running and racing on the trails, being sponsored, being asked about their needs for equipment and clothing, having the best chance of getting into the big races, or being the focus of media and fan attention.

It is because the trail scene isn’t actually welcoming to everyone, despite what many continue to insist. WSER board member, athlete, and filmmaker Billy Yang even tweeted in June 2023: “The sport of trail and ultra running is the most inclusive, beautiful community I’ve had the pleasure of being a part of.”

Yang added, “But until you’ve made an effort to be a part of our community, you really haven’t the faintest idea.”

Yang was largely praised for these statements, and he isn’t alone in voicing this opinion. So, why aren’t BIPOC runners flocking to make “an effort to be part of our community” (emphasis mine)?

Attitudes like those featured in the comments section of the Instagram post by GU are one place to start.

Furthermore, a lack of commentary, speaking out, or monitoring of anti-DEI sentiments from leaders in the trail-running world only serves to give the appearance that these attitudes are acceptable, or at least not offensive and demeaning enough to require attention.

This silence and inaction is implicit agreement, or in the least, apathy. It does not signal a strong, committed interest in developing a welcoming atmosphere for all runners.

When Barkley Marathons race director and UltraRunning Magazine contributor Gary Cantrell (also known as Lazarus Lake) allowed a Confederate flag license plate to be hung at the start/finish line of the 2023 Barkley Marathon, the trail community largely remained silent.

Additionally, media outlets and leaders in the trail community continue to celebrate him and his races, with little to no mention of this or other racist and harmful actions made by Cantrell. Because yes, that license plate isn’t the only Confederate flag featured on his Barkley course, and it also wasn’t the first time Cantrell has been called out for racial discrimination.

Even more, no one seemed particularly dismayed when Cantrell was quoted in a subsequent New York Times article saying he’d now “definitely think twice” about hanging a Confederate flag at his event. That one of the most celebrated race promoters in the sport needs to think twice about exhibiting the most violently racist symbol known to this country at a trail-racing event should concern us all.

Of course, Confederate flags and other signs (like pro-Trump posters) that put runners on alert for racism and hostility exist in many other places outside of Cantrell’s event. They are even featured on properties around many popular trail areas.

This is as true for areas of the southern U.S. as it is for states like Colorado and California, and even race courses as famous as WSER. This is something Carolyn Su, founder of the Diverse We Run Instagram page, and professional runner Stefanie Flippin discussed on a recent episode of their Making Strides podcast. But it goes largely unacknowledged and unaddressed by the trail-running community as a whole.

This points to the issue of safety, which is regularly cited by BIPOC runners as a deterrent to trail running. It can come in many forms, such as flags and signs, as well as in concerns around being “the only”; that is, being the only person who looks like you in a crowd of people who predominantly look like each other. This is clearly the reality for BIPOC runners in the trail scene.

Being the only one can feel, in the least, uncomfortable, and in some circumstances, dangerous, because sometimes it actually is.

In her book Black Sheep, Sabrina Pace-Humphreys, who identifies as a mixed-race Black woman and is a co-founder of Black Trail Runners, shared her story of how being seen as an outsider put her in a terrifying situation.

During a race in the Alps, she slipped on a patch of ice and quickly found herself clinging to the side of a mountain, screaming for help. Five white men passed her without hesitation. Thankfully, a sixth man helped her to safety.

Being “the only” is something activist Alison Mariella Désir is very familiar with. The author of the seminal book Running While Black regularly speaks out about structural racism in the predominantly white spaces in the running community, and she has, also unsurprisingly, received a lot of pushback.

In 2023, Désir was featured on a panel led by Black Girls Run ambassador and DEI expert Jiquanda Nelson at the U.S. Trail Running Conference, where industry leaders, athletes, and race directors meet “to share best practices with the trail running community.” The panel focused on BIPOC experiences, yet Désir and Nelson were among the only Black people at the conference.

In a post-event Instagram video, the two women discussed how frustrated and exhausted they felt by their experiences, especially noting an inability of attendees to listen and learn without becoming defensive. “We were literally asked to come and talk about this, and then there was pushback that we were talking about it,” Désir said in the video.

Alongside the video, Nelson wrote, “I’m exhausted from having to navigate people who say they want to do DEI work, increase representation, or claim to be an ally but are not willing to do the work.” Nelson continued, mentioning some of what’s lacking: creating genuine relationships, investing time and resources, listening to people’s lived experiences, and learning about systemic barriers that keep people out.

Returning to the topic of safety, ultra trail runner and founder of Native Women Running Verna Volker stated in a January 2024 Instagram post that she has first-hand experience of what isn’t a safe space. Echoing points similar to those made by Nelson, she went on to say that a safe space is created by listening, learning, and building authentic relationships. And she added, speaking about trail race organizers, “Only a handful are doing it right.”

Change Takes Leadership, Not Time

If the people with the power to make change wanted to, that change could happen swiftly. They could implement systems that would meaningfully impact the makeup of their event, company, advisory board, product line, and organization.

They could take it upon themselves to learn about DEI work, to invest the time to understand how to make real change. They could take the time to learn about the communities they claim to want to serve, develop relationships with people in those communities, and include people from those communities in leadership and key decision-making positions. They could decenter their own comfort, relinquish some of their control, and be open to doing things differently.

Think this is too big of an ask to be realistic? Think that change needs time and only happens slowly? I don’t. Consider the changes made by the television network FX, as recounted in the documentary This Changes Everything. In a 2015 Variety article written by Maureen Ryan, FX was identified as the least diverse television network, as only 12% of its directors were female or people of color.

This was news to CEO John Landgraf (a white man), who decided to make a change. Within a year, 51% of FX’s directors were women and people of color.

With true motivation, change can happen quickly. It takes a single, determined commitment.

This Isn’t a Problem; It’s an Opportunity

There is an opportunity here. An opportunity for organizations, brands, race organizers, athletes, and others with a voice and with power in the trail-running world to make great change, do something groundbreaking, and actually lead. To deliver on this promise that many already think exists, but actually doesn’t.

But that opportunity won’t last forever because there’s something else I see. As people are looking to the current powers that be to lead the way and then seeing that they aren’t and won’t or can’t, the people who want the change are doing it for themselves.

Because the change that we want to see is, this growing diversity is, in many ways, already here. It’s just not being fully recognized.

As Désir said in her video exchange with Nelson, aimed at leaders in the trail-running space of today: “There are a lot of us running. Don’t you see that we’re choosing not to participate in your spaces? It’s not because we don’t run . . . It’s not because we’re not good, and we’re not here. It’s because we don’t want to be in spaces that are hostile.”

So, as people like Désir continue to experience minimal change, words without actions, and defensiveness around diversification, BIPOC runners are doing it for themselves. I see Black Trail Runners. I see powerful writing in the aforementioned books, articles, and social media posts. I see Native Women Running. I see Diverse We Run. I see Black Girls Run and Black Men Run. I see the RIDC. I see TrailblazHers. I see Latinas Run and Latinos Run, and so many more.

I also see in myself — a 54-year-old white woman who shares audio stories told by women about their running experiences and has loved the trail running scene — developing a waning interest in the parts of the sport that are stuck in the past and unwilling to move forward. And I know I’m not alone.

I see myself excited about the truly welcoming work and meaningful change being done. I see myself moving from being really angry at the structural racism and sexism that continues to be upheld and defended, and being much more interested in how people are creating something different. A scene that can truly live up to the claim that this is a welcome and safe space for anyone and everyone.

No one owns the sport of trail running. What’s been built over the past few decades can be rebuilt elsewhere to suit the needs of those who want to participate. It’s just up to those who prefer today’s status quo to decide if they want to be a part of the future or get left behind.

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Cherie Louise Turner
Runner's Life

Runner, former professional bicycle racer, podcaster, writer, editor, traveler. Host & producer Women's Running Stories podcast (womensrunningstories.com).