Before heading out for an occasional run, Akeem Baker makes sure he wears something shiny. He traces a family course through the neighborhoods where he is known. And he looks up to the sky and nods to his best friend, Ahmaud Arbery.
The ritual is painful for Baker. He finds it disconcerting that he is required to follow a list of precautions reserved only for black runners to preserve his safety. It also hurts because it was the tragic death of Arbery – his friend since he was 6 years old – in Brunswick, Georgia, a year ago, that triggered the security measures, which he had not imposed before the last 23 February.
“I used to run for health reasons,” said Baker, who graduated in 2016 from Morehouse College. “Now I run for a sense of therapy, as if I am chasing some kind of freedom.”
Baker’s life and inspirations for running changed when Arbery’s sister called him while he was in New York the night his brother was chased in a truck, shot and killed while running. Two white men are awaiting trial. A third man, who was also arrested, recorded the shooting on a cell phone video.
“Since February 23, 2020, I think of my friend and pray that his life has not been in vain,” said Baker. He met Arbery on an elementary school bus, and they quickly became friends for the next 20 years.
He said he was “amazed” when he read a text message from Arbery’s sister, who shared what was said at the time – the false information that Arbery broke into someone’s home and was killed. “I cried all night in the bathroom,” said Baker. “I was heartbroken. And I’m still confused.”
Father and son Gregory and Travis McMichael chased Arbery, who stopped during his run to wander inside a house under construction in his neighborhood, prosecutors say.
The image is lodged in the brains of black runners who spoke to NBC News: Arbery, 25, stumbling before falling to the ground after being shot.
“His tragic death changed everything for black runners,” said Kevin O. Davis, a member of the Running Club Plan in Texas, which has 2,000 members, almost all of whom are white. “I changed everything. I saw people in their cars slow down while I run and look at me in the rearview mirror to make sure I wasn’t stealing their home. I came across white ladies who scream just because they see me executed by them.
“Once, when I stopped running at the traffic lights, a white guy opened the window and sprayed insecticide on my face – for no reason. I thought I was going blind.
“But Ahmaud Arbery is something different, something horrible. So I don’t run as much when it’s dark and when I do that I make sure I’m wearing reflectors. I’m nervous about running in black running clothes,” he said. “It’s all different. We need to be self-aware.”
Black runners also make adjustments for safety, said Buffalo’s Kim Backey. Backey, an avid runner who takes to the street even in the snow, interpreted Arbery’s death as a cue to change his running patterns.
“We, as black runners, have to worry about what we wear and where we go,” said Backey, 55. “I wear brighter colors now. I told my kids not to wear sweats because they will be judged. Now I have to take my own advice when I go out and run. And that is a pity.
“We have to run intelligently, but at the same time we must not give up our freedom to run because of our running,” she said.
With that thought and Arbery’s spirit in mind, the 2:23 Foundation was created last year to raise awareness of the shooting and advocate “helping young men and women to seek ways that help prevent similar occurrences and instances of injustice”. The group, which has more than 82,000 Facebook followers, scheduled a 2.23-mile national race in memory of Arbery on the anniversary of his death.
Tyrone Irby, owner of The Choice Fitness and Sports Performance Center in Durham, North Carolina, has memories that help him understand the fear that Arbery felt a year ago. Irby said that when he was growing up in Brooklyn, New York, two young white men chased him after he missed the school bus. “They yelled at me while I ran,” he said. “I ran fast enough to avoid them. But I remember the fear I felt and I can only imagine what Ahmaud felt.
“As black runners, we have to have eyes behind our heads. It is part of being black in America. It is sad to think that every day we have to think about the shoes we wear, the times we run, the colors we choose, where we go run. And now, during a pandemic, wearing a mask, a sweatshirt, running at 6 am … can be problematic. “
But that did not stop Irby and others from continuing to hit the ground and raise awareness of Arbery’s death. He created #TogetherWeStandNC, a group that generates discussions about race, with Arbery’s death as a conversation starter.
Irby, a member of the huge social media group #RunWithMaud, has more than 100 runners committed to another race in Arbery’s memory – Maud 2.23’s virtual race on Tuesday 23 is sponsored by Fleet Feet Carrboro, a clothing company in Durham .
“Everyone should be safe when they run. But that is not the case,” said Irby.
He added: “When I leave the house at 3 am, I have my registration at hand in my car, my ID and I drive at the speed limit. Now we have to take similar precautions when we run. Every day is an emotional toll that has to pay to be black. We have to be aware. It’s a bad way to live. “
For Dr. Terrell Holloway, a black psychiatrist at Yale University, Arbery’s death will have repercussions.
“It’s fascinating, because we think of trauma and stress with soldiers in a combat situation,” said Holloway. “But what about the stress of … what happened to Ahmaud Arbery? It’s about how you process a situation that affects you. But the fact that black people have these kinds of instances and ‘could happen to you’ thoughts speaks to prominence of racism. “
Baker said that the trauma of Arbery’s death prompted him to seek counseling. Every two weeks, he visits a therapist to help him deal with the situation. “It’s been a lot,” he said. Kobe Bryant “died on my birthday – I was a huge fan. Less than a month later, my best friend dies. Ahmaud was my right person.”
Augustus Turner, 37, an Army major stationed in Madison, Alabama, wrote about the psychological trauma of Arbery’s death in a Facebook post that went viral. He said, in part: “Sometimes, in the back of my head, I foolishly think to myself: I’m just a black man who runs!
“Why would anyone shoot me just because I am black and unknown? I am a former paramedic. … I have been a licensed lawyer and an active duty officer in the Army for nine years. I have represented and helped over 60 victims of sexual violence …. “I helped justify the destruction of hundreds of enemy targets in Iraq. I cleared the names of unjustly convicted criminals. Who would want to hurt me?”
“Well, none of that matters because … I’m still a black man who runs. If I scare the wrong white person, or match the description of a threatening person … I didn’t become any different from Ahmaud Arbery.”
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Turner said he did not intend to post about the shooting. But then he saw the video.
“I was only able to watch it once,” he said. “Having to protect myself from being killed just by running … steals another slice of our lives. We constantly have to live in fear or on alert. I take my wife’s concerns about running alone seriously. She always had this So now I make a point of walking around the neighborhood with my family so people can see that I am a husband and father and not a threat. Maybe they’ll remember me. Maybe. “
Backey, who wept watching the video of the shooting, said: “As a runner, I understand how Ahmaud stopped and looked at a house that is being built. That’s what we do – we observe what’s around us. Running is freedom. I recently took one. different way in my run and I stopped and thought about Ahmaud and said, ‘Let me out of here.’ It shouldn’t be like that. “
And yet, few runners expect it to be different anytime soon. Arbery’s life and especially his death will resonate for some time.
“Ahmaud and I ran a lot together,” said Baker. “He kept a better pace than I did, but he always encouraged and encouraged me to go further. He could have a dark skin, but he was the brightest light. His smile and energy were always brilliant. And we have to make sure that people always know that. “
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