When Rachel loses five family members in five months, grief magnifies other absences. Long-distance running used to help her feel at home in her body and the world, but now she becomes painfully aware of her inability to run without being cat-called or followed by strange men, or to walk alone at night without fear. Her eyes are opened to injustices facing women in sport, from men who push her off paths during races, to male bias in competition regulations, kit and media coverage. The outdoors becomes a place of danger, and her personal sadness is a version of the grief that all women experience, globally, for lack of freedom and safety.Rachel turns back to running and goes in search of a new the foremothers who blazed a trail - running, hiking, climbing and mountaineering - in the earliest decades of outdoor sport. She discovers a startling hidden history, not just of forgotten female achievements, but of male backlash. She unearths a devastating period in which women were comprehensively driven out of sport and public space - and she looks afresh at the present moment, to ask right now, are we living through a period of unprecedented female empowerment, or an era of reversal in women's rights? As she runs her way from bereavement to belonging, she is inspired by the tenacious women, past and present, who resist attempts to be driven indoors, and insist that being active outdoors is, most definitely, in women's nature.
Rachel Hewitt has penned a cogently passionate polemic on the way women have not only historically been viewed by men as they attempted to enjoy outdoor pursuits but also how they are still sadly too often currently treated abusively and poorly catered for.
The author reflects on her own experiences and how running has helped her through some traumatic periods of grief which is something I can relate to. Although various sports and activities are covered Hewitt has concentrated much of her research on women’s mountaineering in the late 19th and early 20th centuries. She covers the life of Lizzie Le Bon in fascinating detail and she is someone who was unknown to me. That’s probably because despite having read a fair bit of climbing literature it was very male oriented.
Above all the book is a powerful argument for a long overdue and much needed change in policies and planning from those with the ability to do so but most of all a radical sea change is required in the mindsets of boys and men.
After the author suffers a series of bereavements she turns to exercise, namely running, to help navigate her through this grief. And as she does she thinks about all the women before her who have championed outdoor sport. Lizzie Le Blond, for example. Pretty unknown to those of us in the 21st Century but Lizzie was fearless in her attempts to climb the Alps (in long heavy skirts!) at a time when no woman ever did.
Questioning women’s rights to be involved and participate in sport this is a fascinating, incredibly well researched book on the topic. Interspersed with the author’s own runs this book really gave me pause for thought to realise, as a woman, how far we have come. But also as a woman, how far we still have to go.
There’s a wealth of statistics within this book. It relays the likelihood of women targeted or abused by men and whilst reading it my teenage daughter and her friends were subjected to a random older man groping them - their first taste of the future.
This book delves into Rachel Hewitts' experience of running to cope with grief. Running facilitates Rachel to experience herself viscerally through her body and gain confidence in her place in the world. As opposed to a woman who accesses her body's experience almost second hand via the eye; how things appear or look which filters how/what she experiences. Whilst all this is happening Rachael her husband Pete & 3 precious children move from London to the north of England with Mattie the cat. This part of the book was impressively honest & captivating. I became a big fan of Lizzy Le Blond a wealthy climbing adventurer who found identity and peace in the mountains; & the question of what happened to shoe horn Lizzy and women of her time off the mountains. However the book covers numerous other relevant topics such as female harassment on the street. The historic subjugation of women. I became a bit overwhelmed by the bandwidth of the topics covered. All very interesting and related but I needed two books here.
Another non-fiction book in the format of "author researches a subject, and interweaves their findings with a first-person narrative about their life during the process of researching". This format seems to be very popular at the moment, at least by the publishing industry.
Personally, I find it can lead to first-person narratives that are aren't ready or rich enough to be written, combined with relatively weak research - as if hoping that the weaknesses of one will make up for the weaknesses of other. This book was one of these, and I found it stodgy.
I hate to give a negative review; the author seems like a lovely person, and not a bad writer, who has gone through a lot. So I'm reassured that seem to be in the minority. I don't think it's Rachel Hewitt in particular I dislike. What I dislike is the current trend for books in which we are endlessly subjected to reading about how the author sat down to type their subject's name into Google, is surprised nothing comes up, packs their back and goes to a library, eats a Twix, etc. It's dull and I wish publishers would stop pushing this format.
I really liked some of the book, but have issues with the personal elements of it. The sections about the female pioneers of mountaineering were fascinating. Amazing stories of women I didn't know about who achieved great mountaineering feats. Whilst I appreciate the difficulties the author may have faced in life (particularly deaths in the family and being verbally abused when running) I found the way the story was presented to be both depressing and over heavy on fear mongering.
This book is incredible, would 10/10 recommend to any women or human being involved in outdoor sports and anyone interested in learning more about some well buried history about women
**Shortlisted for the 2024 Lord Aberdare Literary Prize for the Best Book in British Sport History** 4½ Rachel Hewitt’s impressive and engaging exploration of women’s outdoor physical activity both bridges important gaps in understanding and builds compelling commonalities in women’s experiences of the outdoors across 140 or more years. Grounded in her family tragedy were she returned to running in the wake of the deaths of several relatives, she was driven to reflect on the hostility of many men to her presence and the range of threats they posed to her and other women runners. This led her to wonder about the historical bases of this hostility – after all these were not activities constrained as team sports by number, space, and time, but running in public places. Although circumstances changed with constraints imposed by Covid-19 public health rules, the narrative of exclusion she unravels is consistent, compelling, and insightful.
The focus of her historical inquiry is an Anglo-Irish woman, landowner, and mountain climber called, throughout, Lizzie Le Blond (although that was her 3rd husband’s name). Although three times married, Lizzie spent most of her life living apart from successive husbands climbing in Switzerland, where her closest relationships tended to be with other women climbers and guides (most serious climbers, and Lizzie was a serious climber, necessarily and understandably have close and long term relationships with specific guides, often inheriting (or being inherited by) subsequent family generations). Lizzie’s climbing career was marked by many ‘firsts’ – first ascent, first by a woman, first British, and so forth – as key markers of climbing standing. She was a keen athlete in other contexts – skating, tobogganing, sailing, and the like, as well as a highly accomplished landscape photographer. Yet the officialdom of mountaineering refused to recognise her standing, denied her membership of the Alpine Club (because she was a woman), and subtly and not so subtly denigrated her capabilities. It’s a common image of the Victorian era.
Yet, Hewitt uses Lizzie’s case in two important ways. First, and less surprisingly, she explores the ways that Lizzie’s late 19th and early 20th century experiences link to and illustrate the commonalities in women’s early 21st century experiences. A sizeable part of the book is drawn from Hewitt’s running life and her shift during the 2010s from local ‘jogger’ to fell runner completing runs of up to 40 miles across northern England’s hills and moors. Woven through this, Lizzie’s story reflects and reflects on those contemporary experiences. Second, and more innovatively, Hewitt uses Lizzie’s life to explore the changing Victorian attitudes to women’s outdoor lives and physicality, showing that the exclusions we associate with the era were not an ahistorical static phenomenon, but developed shifting from tolerance, sometimes begrudging, to active exclusion by the early 20th century. In doing so, Hewitt draws a subtle and nuanced picture of shifting attitudes, approaches, and outlooks in ways that inform the contemporary while also maintaining the distinctiveness of the past. That said, there is a little more contextualisation to do here to make this Victorian trajectory clearer, but that might have made it a different book.
Hewitt, however, does not simply leave it at one story. She locates Lizzie in an active network of women climbers and other outdoor activities, complementing this historical awareness with a solid engagement with contemporary sociological explorations of the gendering of sport, respectfully recognising the fraught character of some questions, while being clear about her inclusive approach. That makes for a sophisticated socio-cultural exploration of histories of women’s outdoor physicality, alongside a carefully historicised grasp of contemporary experiences. On top of that, she writes well, with a sophisticated grasp of her craft (I’d hope so, she teaches creative non-fiction writing), making for a flowing and engaging text.
Don’t be put off by its length, it’s a fabulous, important, and elegant read. Highly recommended.
I really enjoyed reading this book, with its balance of personal account and healing from grief, stories of intrepid adventurers and challenges facing women who run Unusually for me - my only criticism is that it was perhaps too pessimistic about women’s current experience in the uk - made you feel like there is a rapist on every trail - which could be offputting for women getting into exercise. But this could be her experience of grief
A really interesting story shining a light on the forgotten female mountaineers of the late 19tg century, interspersed with musings on modern women's sport and how we got there. There's also a more personal narrative of the author's experience with grief and running. Some pretty depressing stuff about what women have had to and continue to deal with - I found the erosion of women's participation in sport at the turn of the century particularly sad - but a fascinating account.
The first half was brilliant, lots of interesting history about women in sport combined with Rachel's own experiences. The last quarter or so was really heavy going though. I appreciate the author's experiences of running and not feeling safe outdoors alone sometimes, but I felt she was projecting the heights of her own fears onto every other women's experience in similar situations. Although I can relate to how she feels I'm not sure everyone is at such an extreme end of the spectrum.
Made me want to run and take up space and scream at every man who ever made any woman feel small/scared/less than just because they are a woman. Made me want to cry - because the world is fucked but also because women are fucking amazing and strong and brave and athletic!!!!!!!!! Made me want to go outside and hike a mountain and think about all the women who have come before whose stories we don’t get told. But i will tell this story!!
1/ sad and angry 2/ want to go outside, like rn 3/ aware of how luxurious it is to find solitude, especially outdoors
It also reminded me of how spending time in nature, was my go-to remedy whenever I felt like life stopped making sense. I remember the absolute bliss of simply being outside, before I grew up and became more aware of the fact that it can be the opposite. Good times, fr.
This is not a good book to have as bedtime reading. I started it that way and soon realised I was getting too cross to be able to sleep calmly. Instead I’ve read it in chunks here and there and have allowed myself to be angry about the situations that my foremothers found themselves in.
Weaving together her own personal story of finding strength through running, the history of women in sport, and the problems of modern women trying to participate, this is both moving and illuminating.
It’s also inspiring, as it inspired me to return to walking and possibly return to running.
A Christmas gift I saved until I had the time to dedicate to it. An eye opening review of women in sport, that doesn’t get five stars because as a runner I’d hoped for more of a running focus (as opposed to mountains and climbing). That’s not to say it’s not in there and my GOD am I more motivated to get myself moving outdoors having read it!
This book is not for the faint hearted and is a hefty read. The historical data was slow going at times but wow I learnt a lot and through the pages I have also gained a greater understanding of my own grief and how I have experienced it through sport at different points. Thank you Rachel for this wonderful and truly heartfelt piece. I bawled at the afterword, a further tradgedy so unexpected 💔
Emotive and insightful. Not a bedtime book. It really shows you the importance of claiming women's space in the outdoors, while taking you through the most beautiful landscapes of England. I wish everyone would know about Lizzie Le Blond
A compelling interweaving of a deeply personal story of grief and discovery, and the search for the stories of women pioneers in the 'great outdoors' in the late 19th and early 20th centuries. Fascinating, and thought-provoking.
I loved this book. Rachel brings together a compelling group of stories highlighting the barriers between women and the outdoor world. I was sad to finish listening but this book will help my thinking on life in general!
This is not a criticism but... holy flip that whole book was unbelievably depressing. Also can men please just not comment on sexism at all until they actually learn some history, thanks.