Running Into Acceptance
Posted: Fri May 06, 2005 9:35 pm
I recently was telling a friend about the “Susan B Komen Race for the Cure,” a five kilometer run/walk event that raises money for breast cancer research. In response to that off-hand remark, she mentioned that she had met someone named Janet Bowman who was transgendered, and that there was a write-up about Janet Bowman in the current issue of a magazine called Runner’s World. If anyone is interested, I found this article on the Internet.
Cynthia Gorney. “A Six Minute Difference.” Runner’s World. June 2005.
Ever wonder how much faster (or slower) you’d run if you were the opposite sex? Janet Furman Bowman may be the only runner in America who knows.
Before the race, in her warm-ups, Janet Furman Bowman is noticeable from across the parking lot only because she’s the tallest woman, and the best dressed. Her pants are black and stretchy and look good on her. The jacket matches. Her blond hair is pulled back in a ponytail. She’s wearing small, dangly earrings, red lipstick, and a silver pendant on a slender chain. Her socks are rainbow striped around the ankles.
Is there anyone here who doesn’t know? Janet looks around, surveys the gathering runners, smiles. George has arrived, and Hans, and Dave, who’s going to do the 5-K pushing his two-year-old in a stroller. The sky is overcast. Mount Tamalpais, the great woods covered peak visible from almost anywhere in the eastern half of Marin County, California, looms out beyond the high school driveway where the volunteers are collecting entrance fees and marking out the starting line. Men and women trot by, loosening up. No one looks at Janet curiously anymore—no sliding sidewise glances, no double takes. Morning, Janet! Hey, Janet! “Here I am,” she says, “running with a hundred friends.” She makes it sound like a simple thing. More (link)
Cynthia Gorney. “A Six Minute Difference.” Runner’s World. June 2005.
Ever wonder how much faster (or slower) you’d run if you were the opposite sex? Janet Furman Bowman may be the only runner in America who knows.
Before the race, in her warm-ups, Janet Furman Bowman is noticeable from across the parking lot only because she’s the tallest woman, and the best dressed. Her pants are black and stretchy and look good on her. The jacket matches. Her blond hair is pulled back in a ponytail. She’s wearing small, dangly earrings, red lipstick, and a silver pendant on a slender chain. Her socks are rainbow striped around the ankles.
Is there anyone here who doesn’t know? Janet looks around, surveys the gathering runners, smiles. George has arrived, and Hans, and Dave, who’s going to do the 5-K pushing his two-year-old in a stroller. The sky is overcast. Mount Tamalpais, the great woods covered peak visible from almost anywhere in the eastern half of Marin County, California, looms out beyond the high school driveway where the volunteers are collecting entrance fees and marking out the starting line. Men and women trot by, loosening up. No one looks at Janet curiously anymore—no sliding sidewise glances, no double takes. Morning, Janet! Hey, Janet! “Here I am,” she says, “running with a hundred friends.” She makes it sound like a simple thing. More (link)