Meet midnight runners: the solution to sexual harassment and safety after dark on the streets of Bogotá

 It’s 7pm on a Thursday evening, and I’m standing outside of a bar in Bogotá’s El Chico neighbourhood. Aside from the fact that I’m obviously gripping my phone with both hands with some degree of anxiety, and that I look notably gringoese, I’m also dressed in a pair of Lycra leggings, and trainers. All of these things put together mean that I’m quite understanding when, as they pass by the bar, a pair of smartly-dressed women interrupt their own conversation to comment, through laughter, about the ridiculousness of “correr con cerveza”. 

The neon sign of the bar behind me offers little restitution for their discernment I can only assume must be well-intentioned. 

The bar’s music  filters out onto the street and I turn to watch as one of the waiters pauses his drinks running to perform un perreo breve with the bartender. From an outsider perspective, I’m inclined to agree, the whole scene does seem at least a little misplaced. Or at least maybe it would. 

Except, I’m not alone. 

I continue to periodically check my phone, my back to the wall, while I await the arrival of my friend, caught in one of los trancones typical of this over-populated, poorly-linked Metropolis. As I do, other, similarly dressed people begin to congregate in groups around me. Clambering from motos or arriving in twos and threes by sneaker-clad foot, they greet each other with hugs and variations of buenas noches. 

They all seem familiar with the protocol of the evening, seeking out places to perch and relaxing into their social circles like settling into a comfortable pace. Until the speakers arrive. 

Meet Midnight Runners, a volunteer-led running group with a branch in Bogotá which combines HIIT workouts, positively charged pacing, and music that wouldn’t be out of place in a LatinX summer festival rave. Since I’ve been running with them in Colombia, the home of artists like Maluma and J Balvin, the music blaring out from amplifiers strapped to runner’s backs tends to be reggaeton - an excellent and motivating choice for a fast-paced route through the city by night. 

The group meets every Thursday, in a bar nearby Bogotá’s Parque 93, where, around 7:30pm, we begin the warm up. Any relatively fit first timer might be forgiven for thinking that this part, incorporating balancing activities, squat variations, and shock-to-the-system social cues, is what constitutes the night’s activities. In reality, this is only the beginning. 

To follow is a roughly (definitely rounded down) 6 kilometre long route, complete with a speed stop and three further stops for anything from one-legged press ups, plank and jackknife challenges, or Mexican wave squats, amongst other things. If you think it sounds rough, it is. 

Yet, when you compare it to running alone here, whether by day amongst simultaneously unbothered yet ogling members of the public, or by night when you’d have to risk your safety just to hit your step count, there’s absolutely nothing better. 

Admittedly, in theory, it may seem a little daunting. Yet, with consistent cries of “DURA! DURA!” and the blast of a sudden breeze as a runner with a speaker sprints past you and tens of other people in order to stand on a makeshift platform and offer their palms for high fives of encouragement, it offers a sense of endorphin induced ecstasy that you’d struggle to find in even the most mesmerisingly tranquil walk in the park. 

And the finishing touch? A tunnel of sweaty, smiling runners to greet you with praise for the final few metres before the figurative finish line. 

With more than 100 runners at each meet every week, Midnight Runners is a welcoming and energetic community that makes it possible to explore the city that can otherwise feel like a threat, especially after nightfall, and especially for women. 

Here, in Bogotá, they have a phrase: “No da las papayas”. This literally translates to, “don’t give papaya”.  What it actually means is, don’t give someone the opportunity to take advantage of you, or, rather, don’t look muggable. 

Unfortunately, while I can take all of the necessary precautions, such as not going out alone, keeping my valuables hidden in bags or pockets or, better still, left at home all together, it’s obvious from the way that I talk, walk, and look, that I’m not from here. Not only do I look like a gringo who’s lost, but I am, and present as, a woman. Therefore, basically, I’m a sitting duck. 

However, like a duck would, when it comes to fight or flight, my decision, before I’ve even realised I've made one, is flight, always. In other words, I’m always ready to run. 

But Midnight Runners isn’t just a running group. Certainly it’s not like any that I’ve ever attended before, and not just because of the sheer number of attendees, or the mass of energy that tears through plazas and parks and between block after block of high rises. 

Rather, something that began with a small group of friends going out for a run at nighttime and taking a speaker along with them, has become an entire global movement, with various other locations such as Sydney, Boston, Paris, Milan, and Tokyo, marketing itself, rightfully so, as the ‘friendliest global running club and fitness community’. 

Not only is Midnight Runners incredibly friendly, and a great way to bring runners of all different abilities together and to motivate them by making exercise fun, but the opportunity it offers people, women in particular, to run in a safe and secure group at night, especially in a city like Bogotá, is not only severely understated, but also criminally unreported. 

Furthermore, perhaps one of the reasons that Bogotá has such a strong running community and so many branches of running clubs is of course in part due to the sheer size of the place. But as a capital city it can also boast of its exercise groups, social events and meetups, and so much free stuff to do! 

As a city, Bogota has risen up, and indeed is still rising, out of the stereotypes that it's a place of corruption, violence and conflict, and nothing more. Of course, Bogotá isn’t a small town in the north of England; here, I don’t have the same freedom to walk around alone at nighttime, although of course doing this at home doesn’t come without risks. It goes without saying that here, though, as an obvious foreigner and not least because my sense of direction is pretty rubbish, that the risks posed to my safety are significantly higher than they are in Newcastle. 

Indeed, here there isn’t the same level of sympathy for you if something happens. Instead of offering a kind but concerned frown, most of the time any revelation of something unfortunate is met with an eye roll and a ‘te lo dijé, tienes cuidarte acá.’  This reaction basically says: “you’re an incredibly naive and inexperienced foreigner, what are you doing?” 

After only a couple of months here I will say, though, it’s incredible how quickly you adapt. 

On the other hand, after very little time, I can say honestly that the people here, called ‘los rolos’ locally, have an almost unparalleled sense of resilience and perseverance. As a country imperially and economically oppressed by its American neighbour, the effects of this are evident in the sheer volume of shopping malls, advertisements and the anglicisation of certain phrases.  Nevertheless, the sense of Latin American identity remains unmistakable. 

I think it's this resilience that helps Bogotanos form communities and friendships despite, or perhaps because of, the insidious background of the events like the ‘Bogotazo’ in 1948, the Narcos violence led by Pablo Escobar in the late 20th century, and more recently, covid 19. The latter, especially, caused economic stagnation on a global scale. This had an enormous effect on Colombia specifically, a country with a heavily integrated commercial and service sector that already has one of the worst rates of inequality in the world. 

However, despite all of this, I have never met so many people willing to help, who are happy to extend their kindness to someone who needs it, even being the gringa that I am. People who offer you a ride home, although it’s only the first time they’ve ever met  you. Or those who want to know, honestly, “¿cómo has estado en Colombia? ¿Qué tal ha ido Bogotá?” because they genuinely care and want you to have a good impression of the city. 

Midnight Runners is only one iteration of this attitude, and of this willingness to live here despite all of the country’s history. It’s groups like this that make Bogotá such a special place, which has the capacity to thrill and excite people, and to inspire a new and different way of life, and which beckons people to reclaim the streets as their own. I’m certain that there’s so much more to discover and explore, both in Bogotá, and beyond in Colombia. 

In just a short time I’ve learnt that one of the best and most effective ways of improving the quality of life here is to help create a new image of Colombia. We can do this, hopefully, by living here and by not being afraid to actually use the city, and to continue rejecting the presumptions that its tumultuous history has made it somehow inhabitable. This, then, is necessary to dispel the idea held by much of the Western world that Colombia is a dangerous war zone. As well as this, this ideological shift might also help to bring more opportunities and an economic boost to the country and the lives of the people here who suffer the most, many of whom work illegal jobs or are forced to carry out other illegal activities because they have no other option.

The problems in Colombia, like with any city, are not the immigrants. Nor do they stem from the poor people, the unemployed, or the homeless. The problem is, and always has been, the bureaucratic political systems in place which have forced people to live in these conditions as a direct result of poor governance and financial corruption. This is not Gustavo Petro’s government. 

I hope to become part of a Bogota in which people can walk in the streets, wander around at any hour, and can go out without worrying about being mugged, pickpocketed, or attacked. You might call me a socialist idealist, but I hope that one day, more than anything, everyone in Bogotá will have enough to live comfortably. 

This dream doesn’t just concern Colombians either, but I hope this can extend to everyone in the world.