Special Report: Running Mates

I'm always amazed by just how new women's rights are to the world. It's great to imagine those suffragettes marching for the vote — which women in the U.S. didn't get until 1920, not even 100 years ago. But all those flappers seem a long way away.

In 1966, women still weren't allowed admission to Yale or Harvard (Yale allowed women in 1969, Harvard not until 1972). And they weren't allowed to run marathons, either. The standard thought was women's bodies couldn't handle the strain, and they would die — yes, die — from running a marathon.

Roberta "Bobbi" Gibb found out about the limitation after applying to run Boston and being denied. That year, she traveled the country in her VW bus (so sixies!), training the whole way. The next year, she decided to run without official authorization. She dressed in men's clothes and hid in the bushes until the start, then joined the pack.

The next year, Kathrine Switzer was the first to run Boston with an actual race number — she had to register using only her initials and get her coach to pick up her number so officials wouldn't know she was a woman. They didn't know she was a woman until she started running — then it got ugly. Two race officials ran after Switzer, trying to physically remove her from the race, or at least tear off her number. (Actually, Gibb ran that year, too, but without a number. She was forced off the course right before the finish.)

Both women talk about how amazing the men who ran with them acted at the events. Men circled both women, offering support in Gibb's case and protection in Switzer's. I'm proud of those men, who supported their fellow athletes despite stereotypes against them. And I'm amazed by women who managed to run over 26 miles, proving themselves under the pressure of proving the strength of an entire gender.

Many countries STILL treat women as second class citizens, denying not only important rights like voting and choosing who to marry, but also robbing them of small things we take for granted, like heading out for a jog.

A couple years ago I read Nine Parts of Desire, by Geraldine Brooks, a great book about women in the Middle East. One of the chapters describes the struggles of female Muslim athletes, who can't go out in public unless they're wearing a burqa. I found it difficult to run in ladybug wings ... I'm pretty sure I couldn't do it covered head to toe in fabric.

Most of my life, I considered running — or any exercise, really — a chore, and I felt sorry for myself when I had to do it. Now I realize heading out for a run is a freedom that thousands of women still don't have.

Gibb writes that she entered the Boston Marathon because she loves running, not to make a statement. But she is philosophical about her run: "We talk a lot about peace," she says. "But what is peace? It is not just a passive state of acquiescence. Peace is a dynamic state of human interrelationship, based on fairness and consideration, which requires the hard work of becoming fully who we are and encouraging others to do the same."

Today, we vote. I can't express how important I believe it is to exercise this freedom that so many have fought for. But it's also important not to take our "everyday" freedoms for granted. The freedom to run a marathon. The freedom to join the corporate world. The freedom to choose who to marry — or to choose not to marry at all.

Today, I will vote, and I'll be grateful for the freedom to do it. And today, I'll run, and I'll be thankful that I'm able to do that, too.