Running for Representation: My Journey to Breaking Barriers in Distance Running

I started running for mental clarity; now, I run for representation. My name is Ra’Shaude Kenney, and I am one of the co-founders of the Space City Elite Running team, based out of the 3rd Ward in Houston, TX. Our goal is to bridge the gap between elite, professional runners and the amateur runners, while also highlighting and amplifying our local communities.

Growing up, sports was a pillar in my family. My parents used sports as a facilitator for bonding and for instilling life lessons. My sisters and I not only ran track, we also participated in martial arts and played football, basketball, and baseball. Sports was such a norm that I couldn’t fathom life without it!

Reality shifted once I reached adulthood. Surprisingly, running has been the one sport in which I’ve experienced stereotyping from both within the Black community, as well as outside of it. When people in my own community see me outside running, someone inevitably shouts to ask why I’m running when I’m not being chased. I find myself constantly having to explain to others that I’m training for a marathon or that having a running routine improves my health and well-being. Aside from sprinting, amongst my peers, the historical stigma of “running away from” has conditioned people to think that the sport of running is only for a certain class of people.

When I run in areas outside of my neighborhood, I get a mix of reactions that range from being completely ignored or being given side-eye, “who is this guy?” looks at group runs and having my presence questioned. Most people either assume that I don’t know much about running at all, or they assume that I just want to show off.

In both settings, I’m either told that I’m being ludicrous for wanting to run, or that my goals are too audacious. It’s hard to keep showing up in a sport when you’re always made to feel that you don’t fit the mold of who is acceptable as a runner.

2019 was the year my life changed. Despite having always been an active person, juggling all the roles and responsibilities of adulthood took a toll on my physical and mental health. I was out of shape, stressed, and living a lifestyle more suited to coping with hustle-and-grind culture. I felt like I had regressed from the health-oriented, active lifestyle that was a once-natural part of my routine. I was also about to become a father, and the reality of being an out-of-shape dad, unable to run around with his kids in the driveway, hit me hard. My son was born in the summer, and as I held him in my arms and gazed upon him, envisioning the young man he might become, I knew I wanted – I needed – to change and live by example.

I ran distance in junior high and in high school (mainly to stay in shape for basketball), so I was familiar enough with running that it helped get me out the door during my son’s newborn weeks. By the Fall that year, I was regularly running with my son in the jogging stroller. That became a special time for us, and it also gave me space to find peace of mind.

Eventually, I signed up for my first road race, the Houston Rodeo 10K!

When I showed up to the start on race day, I was shocked to find myself as one of the only Black runners at the event. Everyone at the front was white; there was no one who looked like me in the lead packs. I crossed the finish line of the race that day with my eyes opened to a void in the Houston running community and with a fire lit within me: I was determined to bring my own community into that space, and I wanted my kids to see what they could become and accomplish. This is what helped lead to the creation of the Space City Elite Running team, where we bring together runners of all athletic backgrounds, ranging from former collegiate runners to new-to-the-sport amateur runners, to train together and support each other, in order to remove the cultural stigma of running and to normalize it as a lifestyle that benefits the community.

I want to see more African Americans and those from historically marginalized groups competing at the highest levels of distance running, and I want to be a conduit to providing a safe space for BIPOC runners to receive high-quality training within a community. I believe that in its purest form, running is a sport that welcomes anyone who wants to participate, and it will change and transform those who put in the time and effort to consistently show up.

My personal goals are to complete all six (now seven) world majors, to run a Boston qualifying marathon in 2025, and to show my kids and the people in the Black community that we can not only run but also compete in these major, endurance races. My ultimate goal is to be a conduit for people that look like me to experience the world of distance running without feeling the need to “shrink” or assimilate ourselves. We deserve to be here. We are already here. Watch and see how far we can go! #diversewerun 

This story is a part of a feature series in collaboration with writer and activist Carolyn Su, who is the co-host of the Making Strides Podcast and creator of the story-telling platform, Diverse We Run. Together, the 26.2 Foundation and Diverse We Run seek to spotlight the running journeys of BIPOC athletes, in order to bring awareness and understanding of the experiences unique to the BIPOC community so that we might create a more equitable and accessible future for the sport.