SPORTS

Road Hazards Even in D.C., the story of Ahmaud Arbery feels all too familiar to many black runners.

Alex Amankwah

By Kelaine Conochan and Kelyn Soong

Many black men in America, Frank Tramble says, have a story involving a pickup truck. In 2014, Tramble went for a run while in Madison, Georgia, for his cousin’s wedding. That run, he remembers, felt different than others. Every driver that passed stared at him, looking confused. Then a pickup truck went by, made a U-turn, and came back in his direction. At that point, Tramble felt a gripping fear come over him.

“My heart sinks. The questions in my mind go crazy: ‘Is he coming back for me? Is this man going to mess with me? Is this the moment I always feared as a black man?’” he recalls. “I couldn’t help thinking: ‘Is this the one that’s going to end my life?’” Tramble, the 32-year-old founder of DC Run Crew, a running club based in the District, reflected on this incident when he saw the news of the shooting death of Ahmaud Arbery, a black man who was running near his home in Glynn County, Georgia, when he was gunned down. Two white men, Gregory McMichael and his son Travis, the alleged shooter, followed Arbery, believing he was involved in nearby burglaries. A video of the fatal Feb. 23 shooting went viral this month and prompted outrage and widespread discussion about the fears of running while black in a predominantly white space. The McMichaels were ultimately arrested — 74 days after the deadly shooting.

For a lot of black men and women, Arbery’s story feels all too familiar.

“Seeing the video of Ahmaud Arbery took me back to the moment I had,” says Tramble. “I find that every one of these stories takes me back, speaking as a black man, to a moment that I had that worked out in my favor. But that’s not a given for everyone, or every time.” the D.C. running community since 1984, when Adrian’s father, Phil, opened the Fleet Feet running store on Columbia Road NW. Since then, running has been not only core to their business, but a core family value.

“We believe in running as a lifestyle to promote health. We try to do that through our business and the example we set in our lives,” says Shawn, Adrian’s older brother and the owner of Fleet Feet in Adams Morgan.

Shawn believes Arbery’s story has gotten attention because it touches on running and the black community, but that the incident is even more impactful because of what it represents.

“It goes to a culture and a values system that is deeper than just the death of Ahmaud Arbery,” he says. “I think that this particular situation brings awareness to the fear black people live with in the way that the Rodney King incident brought police brutality to the evening news. Now, black people can say, ‘See? This is what we live through. Our stories have been dismissed and devalued, but now you can see it. There it is.’” In the United States, running tends to be a predominantly white space. Only 3 percent of runners who responded to Running USA’s 2020 National Runner Survey identified as black or African American. But local runners see things differently in the District. “It’s a bit more convoluted in D.C. This is a majority black city,” Shawn says. “There’s more black affluence concentrated here, so we may get a very distorted cultural view of what it’s like elsewhere in America.” Runners point to D.C. as a relatively safe space, where the racial demographics are perceived as more balanced, and runners of color encounter more inclusivity than they might in other places.

“This city is so oddly diverse. If you go out to RFK Stadium today, you’ll see every type of person working out — white, black, old, young — all types of people in the same space,” says Tramble, a Detroit native whose organization focuses on helping inexperienced or beginner runners come to the sport. “The city is so small, so you have to be in each other’s lives whether you want to or not. Because of that, you have to develop a respect for one another ... The gentrifier has to learn about the older black couple that lives next door, and that couple has to learn from the gentrifier.” In an effort to reach further into the black community, DC Run Crew has moved some of their workouts out of the gentrified areas of Northwest D.C. near U Street NW and Shaw. “What we want to do is show our black brothers and sisters that running is something that can help you mentally grow,” Tramble says. “So, we’ve moved some of our workouts into Northeast, Southeast, and Anacostia to bridge the gap between gentrified newcomers — like me — with the original residents of D.C.”

The death of Arbery has made black runners second-guess whether others’ perceptions and attitudes have ever put them in danger. The black runners City Paper talked to for this story say they alter their behaviors and appearances to ensure that they come across as non-threatening — passing as a “real runner” — in white neighborhoods and communities. But these accommodations are not acts of politeness; they’re the result of runners’ deep fear for their safety, should someone feel threatened or compelled to call the authorities to report “suspicious” behavior.

“I can’t assume that [people aren’t] thinking that I’m a threat,” says Fred Irby, a 40-yearold runner in D.C. “That’s something that white people don’t have to deal with.” Black men in particular say they carry the unfair burden of trying to be nonthreatening to white individuals. “For every black person, we are brought up understanding that the context we give people could be a matter of life and death,” Tramble says. “We go out of our way to present less of a threat or to appear more professional to white people. We change our clothes, our hair ...