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Transfem Trail Guide: It’s time for
you
to race
2025-09-22
Sign up for a race. Use your real name. Register for the right gender. Email the race director for approval if you’re worried. Chances are no one will care or notice, but if they do, more power to you. You will be alright. People are kinder in real life than they seem online. More people are ready to love you than are ready to hate you. You can do this. It’s worth it. It’s time for you to be fully you. I ran my first race as Emmeline in the women’s division this last Saturday. I ran in an outfit made up of entirely women’s clothing—mostly pieced together from discount stores or hand-me-downs. I even managed to find a pair of women’s trail shoes that would fit my feet, a truly legendary occurrence. That said, the fit wasn’t indentifiably feminine either. My face and voice are masculine. A green t-shirt and pink shorts don’t indicate much in the trail community. I did have a couple people say I looked like Jim Walmsley which I’ll take as a small win. Not a woman, but a GOAT nonetheless. I reached out to the race director a week before race day. I’d finally gathered up the courage to ask what he would think about having a trans woman racing in the women’s division. This race was pretty low key. Maybe a hundred people had signed up for the 50k distance. No prize money was on the line, and they didn’t publish a start list. I figured—worst he could say is no, right? I am a bit timid when coming out to people, for better or worse. I tend towards over-accommodating. A part of me believes that if I give people the option to say “I’m not comfortable with what you’re asking me to do” upfront, it increases their willingness to say yes. In a way, it gives them the opportunity to be kind. *Most people value kindness.* So that’s what I did when I asked about racing with the women. My email was cordial and made it clear that I would happily accept whatever his decision. I explained a bit about what it would mean to me, but gave him the option to decline. I’m really not trying to end up in the news for suing a volunteer over “gender ideology.” The race director said yes :) He was kind and encouraging. Being on the receiving end of a kind expression was life changing. It made the risk of a negative response worth it. It will stick with me until the day I die. I can’t say enough about how meaningful it is to have someone say, “Yes, you are welcome here. We want you in our race.” A yes was more powerful than a no could ever be. I don’t condone putting yourself in harm’s way, but if you have a choice between hiding or asking for kindness, always give people the chance to be kind. I went into the race planning on giving it everything I had. I wanted to go to the edges of my physical capacity and give myself grace and love in that space. I wanted to test the limits. After a mile or so, my body told me that was not the day I needed. As I worked through that back and forth with my body, I looked up from the trail in front of me and took in the beauty of the first rays of sun breaking over the mountains and streaming down through the gold, amber, and pink aspen leaves. It hit me then, this is me. This is the first time I’ve ever truly raced. This was my first time feeling really truly present. There was no hesitant anxiety or fear of what would come. I soaked in the moment. I told myself, “I’m here. This is me. This is what happens when I give myself grace.” I broke into a sob for a few strides and smiled as big as I ever have. Peace washed over me. I spent most of the race living purely in the moment: Letting people pass me, telling them they’re awesome; Hiking when I wanted to appreciate the leaves and the panoramic views of the Wasatch mountains; Running when things felt smooth and the trail flowed in front of me; Bopping around to the songs that ran through my head for hours on end. I took a wrong turn and added an extra 2 miles (oops) and screwed up my nutrition near the end since my joy ride had run two hours longer than I’d planned. But I finished. I ran through the finishing chute with my son. The announcer mispronounced my name, my real name. And I felt euphoric. I have no idea where I finished in the field. I don’t know my official time. I know I could have *physiologically* run faster, but that’s not what I needed. That’s not really why I was there. Throughout the race, I held onto the goals I may or may not have come up with on the spot. A Goal) Give myself grace. B Goal) Give myself grace. C Goal) Give myself grace. And then I imagined posting that on strava with a green checkmark next to each. Grace led me where I needed to be. Grace led me to self-compassion and self-actualization. I was actually there. I was actually happy. What does my experience mean for you? Throw caution to the wind. Go register for a race as you are. Go out there and give yourself and everyone around you as much love as you possibly can. YOU ARE AMAZING! You deserve to be happy, and so does everyone else. Be the one who gives that happiness and receives it with grace. I love you; you can do it.
