Navigating an industry that was so binary definitely had an impact in helping me discover my true identity.

Before running, I would think that I'm just gay. But the binary nature of the running industry led me to think about the roles and expectations assigned to men and women.

Running was the vessel for those thoughts. It created that foundation, where I started to think, "Are men’s and women’s divisions the only options? I don't really fit into either of these within this industry. What does that mean?"

My experience as a runner and my experience as a queer person wove together to finally get me to this place where I discovered who I was. I was able to find the terminology to understand that I am non-binary, I exist, and I participate in a different way than other folks in the industry.

Running is my way to escape and decompress from the stress that follows advocacy work. At the same time, there is a weight of anxiety and fear that comes with participating as a non-binary person in a binary world or in a binary industry: “Will I be misgendered? Will I be harassed? What am I stepping into?”

That comes before all of the regular nerves and worries that all participants have.

I want to lift that weight by creating a space where athletes can show up, participate as their authentic self, and not have to worry about that burden, regardless of what their identity is.

This work is not easy and it's going to come with a lot of challenges. So as we are resetting, as we’re taking care of ourselves, we need to find other sources of joy – whether it’s our community, our friends, our family, our surroundings.

I moved to Seattle to be closer to the water and mountains, because that connection with the land brings me a lot of joy. And we need to keep finding those instances that bring some happiness into our lives, especially at times when the work becomes really challenging or difficult.

[As told to @Ragi Gupta — continued]