When Randy Boyd kicked off his candidacy for governor of Tennessee, he did it by running 537.5 miles across the state, through all 95 counties, in daily segments that ranged from six to 10 miles.
Supported by aides in a Volkswagen Atlas just off the floor of a Tennessee assembly plant and wrapped in a “DAA Industry Opt Out” placard, Boyd started each day with a sunup run from the middle of one or another Tennessee town, trailed by half a dozen campaign staffers and supporters in matching T-shirts.
Then he’d take off his Asics and change out of his running gear to campaign by touring factories and schools and meeting with voters and public officials in the towns through which he ran. “Run With Randy” is among his several campaign slogans.
It seemed an appropriately eye-catching way for the 36-time marathoner (with a PR of 3:37), who has also finished 50 half marathons, to distinguish himself in the field of eight declared candidates vying to win an election that is not until the fall.
But the Republican entrepreneur and philanthropist’s love for running didn’t only affect the way he started his campaign. It has influenced his positions on issues—in particular, on how best to improve the health of his fellow Tennesseeans. The state ranks as the nation’s sixth most obese, according to the Trust for America’s Health, and a Gallup poll found it has the ninth-highest percentage of smokers.
Making Tennessee healthier is one of the main things Boyd says he wants to do as governor. Among his proposals: Add education and prevention programs to reverse high rates in his state of obesity, diabetes, smoking, and low birth weight babies. He proposes to declare the opioid crisis a state of emergency, appoint a chief epidemic officer to deal with it, and reduce the rate at which opioids are prescribed.
Boyd is not the only distance runner on the campaign trail. A number of endurance athletes, from both major parties, are contending this year for local, state, and national office. A number of others won elections last fall. And their experience with the sport they share in common affects not only how they campaign—and the positions they take.
Ian Golden, for example, a trail runner, running-store owner, and former college All-American distance runner, has Stravas 2024 Yearly Report Is Here on a platform of, among other things, sustainability. His publicity materials include photos of him volunteering to help clean up and improve trails in his district, where his favorites include the routes in Buttermilk Falls State Park and the Finger Lakes Trail.
Clean air is one of the signature issues for Jacob Frey, a 2:16:44 marathoner who in November unseated the incumbent mayor of Minneapolis, and who has pledged to make that city one of the greenest in America.
In addition to Golden in New York, Boyd in Tennessee, and Frey in Minneapolis, an accomplished marathoner has announced for Congress in Massachusetts, a pioneering woman distance runner just won the job of mayor of a town in Colorado, and a streak runner is campaigning for Congress in New Jersey.
Some say their experience with running has informed their positions on such things as the environment, obesity, and smoking. All agree running has inspired them to conduct sportsmanlike campaigns in an era when politics has sunk into relentless negativity.
“Running is a sport in which everyone works together and everyone wins and everyone cheers,” says Boyd, who is 58. “It would be nice if politics could be more like a marathon, where everyone is there to support and encourage. We could use a bit more of that.”
Those sentiments are echoed by Democrat Dan Koh, the 31-time marathoner (who has run 3:23) stumping for the Massachusetts 3rd Congressional District seat.
“He’s right,” says Koh, who is running on a platform of improving roads, among other promises. “There’s nothing more of a reminder of the American spirit and community than a marathon. Everyone is out there rooting for you. No one when you’re running a race asks you what your partisan affiliation is before they hand you a cup of water or decide whether they want to yell your name.”
Koh, too, has incorporated his sport into his campaign. He ran 142 miles in 12 legs through every town and city in his district, finishing at the Feaster Five road race on Thanksgiving Day.
Even before that, seeing the world from a runner’s-eye view encouraged his political aspirations.
“Runners like to be in touch with their communities and to see as much as possible the environment around them,” he says. “There was a natural connection for me between doing that and running for office.
Mark Washburne, president of the U.S. Running Streak Association, who hit his own 10,000th successive running day in May, launched his campaign as a Democrat for the 11th New Jersey Congressional District seat with a run/walk organized by the running club he helped found.
When his treasurer read the autobiography Washburne wrote to introduce himself to voters, “He said, ‘You’ve got way too much running in here,’” the first-time candidate says. “I responded: ‘But, hey, that’s what I do.’” He’s invited residents to run with him and talk about the issues, and he’s made up singlets that say, “Running for Congress.”
Why Are So Many Runners Getting Into Politics.
A former motivational speaker who now teaches college-level history and political science, Washburne, 61, says he’s “trying to take the high road” and plans no negative ads. I want it to be about the issues.”
He likes running even with those neighbors who may disagree with him politically. “We get people from all different backgrounds,” Washburne says. “We just have fun. It doesn’t get heated.”
Frey moved to Minneapolis after seeing it from the course of the Twin Cities Marathon, where he qualified to represent the U.S. at the 2007 Pan American Games. He remembers chatting along the way with his toughest competitors. “There’s a feeling of camaraderie in running, even with your fiercest opponents,” he says.
Running gave Jacki Marsh something, too, that she says she needed to become mayor of her home city of Loveland, Colorado: determination. The political novice didn’t even enter the race until nearly Labor Day, going up against two current and former city council members.
In the election on November 7, she beat both of those more experienced candidates in an upset. (Citywide races in Loveland are nonpartisan.) And she partly credits what she learned in another part of her life: as a groundbreaking female distance runner.
“My entire life I have been underestimated,” she says. “They right from the start figured I didn’t stand a chance.”
Marsh was 17 when, as Jacki Dixon, she won the inaugural Crazylegs Mini Marathon in 1972, the first major road race for women at a time when female athletes were generally not welcome in distance running—though she also entered other races illicitly using the name “Jack Dixon.”
“Running gave me a confidence that has never left me,” even when she was later diagnosed with the heart disease that sidelined her from racing, she says. “Every step I took built more positivity and belief in myself, that I was strong and capable.”
When Marsh, now 63, found herself occasionally attacked by her detractors, “I just refused to respond. I felt it was up to me to run the best race I could and for my opponents to run the best race they could.”
Going negative in politics “is like cutting a corner in a [running] race,” she says. “It’s wrong to do that in a race and it’s wrong to do that in life.”
Jacob Frey, seen here running the 2008 Austin Marathon, is now the mayor of Minneapolis.
“Running for election, like running a marathon, is a grind,” says Frey, who is 36. “It tests you not just on race day but for months and years leading up to that one important day. And runners do have a tenacity and work ethic that is nearly unparalleled.”
Running in the Cold.
“Whereas running used to be about times and winning, it’s now about emotional and physical health,” he says. “Without that, I’m not at the top of my game for my city.”
A 32-year-old former chief of staff to the mayor of Boston, Koh is one of seven Democrats and two Republicans running for the congressional seat he’s seeking. The election is next November.
He says running teaches “having endurance and being smart about how you distribute your energy. You can’t go out too fast or burn out too early. You have to pace yourself. So definitely there’s a synergy there.”
There’s one other thing some of these runners have in common: Democrat Washburne and Republican Boyd both were near the finish line when the bombs went off at the 2013 Boston Marathon, and both suffered heart-rending scrambles to find their loved ones.
“It made us realize how fragile life is,” Boyd says, “and that maybe we’re here for a higher purpose.”
