Visibility In Running | Why A Non-Binary Category Matters

When Quinn R. started running competitively in high school, they didn’t yet have the words to describe how they felt about gender. “I just knew I didn’t fit,” they say. “The categories never made sense to me.” Now in their late 20s, Quinn identifies as nonbinary and uses they/them pronouns. They’ve continued running as a competitive amateur, racing everything from 5Ks to marathons and pushing back against the gender norms of the sport along the way.

For nonbinary runners like Quinn, participating in races isn’t just about training and toeing the line. It’s about visibility. It’s about being counted. And it’s about navigating a system that still largely asks one question: Are you male or female?

When did you first start running, and how did it make you feel back then?

I started running cross country in high school. At first, it was just a way to stay active. But it became this safe space for me, running was a way to quiet the noise in my head. I didn’t know I was nonbinary then, but I always felt kind of out of place on the girls’ team. The uniforms, the expectations, even how coaches talked to us. I felt like I had to perform femininity just to belong.

What changed when you started identifying as nonbinary?

Everything and nothing, honestly. Internally, I felt a huge sense of relief. I finally had language that made sense for me. But in terms of racing, not much changed. Most races still ask you to pick male or female when you register. There’s no box for “nonbinary.” So I’d choose female…not because it felt right, but because it felt like the least wrong option.

Have you ever tried to race in a nonbinary category?

Yeah. A few races have added nonbinary divisions. The first time I saw that option, I cried. I wasn’t even expecting it…it just popped up. That race felt different. I wasn’t worried about being misgendered in the results. I wasn’t calculating which category would raise fewer eyebrows. I was just…running as myself.

What kind of backlash have you experienced, either online or in person?

A lot of it is subtle, but it adds up. I’ve had people roll their eyes or make comments like, “Why do you need your own category?” or “Just pick a side.” But online is where the worst of it lives. People accuse nonbinary runners of “gaming the system,” like we’re trying to avoid competition or win prizes unfairly. It’s such a flawed argument. Most races don’t even offer prize money in the nonbinary category yet, and when they do, it’s often much less than the male or female categories. Why would I subject myself to so much hate for $100? 

And here’s the thing: the goal isn’t to take away from anyone else. It’s to have a space that reflects who we are. I’m not trying to sneak into a category where I’ll win easier…I’m trying to show up honestly, even when that comes with more scrutiny. It’s ironic because if someone really wanted to win, they’d probably just register in whatever division they felt gave them the best shot. Choosing to register as nonbinary, when that often means fewer resources, fewer awards, and more backlash, isn’t a shortcut. 

How do you respond to that kind of negativity?

Some days, I don’t. Ignoring it is usually the best way to protect my mental health. Some days it gets to me. But mostly, I try to remember that my existence isn’t up for debate. I deserve to run and I’m not alone…there’s a growing community of nonbinary athletes out there who are showing up anyway. That gives me a lot of strength.

What do you think races could do better to support nonbinary runners?

Start with the basics. Add a nonbinary category at registration. Make sure announcers and race volunteers are trained on inclusive language. Adjust prize structures so we’re not treated like an afterthought. And don’t just offer a category…recognize and celebrate it. Make it visible in results, awards, and race recaps. We have a long way to go in recognizing and celebrating it. 

What’s been the most affirming moment you’ve had as a runner?

Probably the time I got my bib and it said “NB” next to my name. It was a small local 10K, and I had emailed the race director asking if they’d consider adding a nonbinary category. They not only did it…they included it in the official race day materials. Seeing my name, my pronouns, and my gender identity respected like that. It meant the world to me. I keep that bib framed in my home. 

What would you say to other nonbinary runners who feel unsure about competing?

Even if the system doesn’t fully recognize you yet, your training, your joy, your goals…they all matter. There will be people who don’t get it, but there are also people who do. Find your crew. And don’t let the fear of being misunderstood keep you from doing something you love.

Running isn’t always about the clock. Sometimes it’s about showing up when it would be easier not to. Quinn keeps showing up…not just for themselves, but for every runner who’s ever felt like there wasn’t a place for them. They train, they race, and they deal with comments and confusion and questions that most runners never have to think about.

Jason’s Thoughts: The visibility of nonbinary runners in our sport is gaining momentum but that doesn’t mean that we stop because we moved one step forward. As a community that believes that running is a world of unicorns and rainbows, don’t we want everybody to experience that joy? Let’s stop gatekeeping and start being more welcoming. Instead of saying our table is full…..let’s build a bigger table!