I was out before I was a runner. My mom knew I would be both gay and a runner since I was an infant. Gay, because I liked the Disney princesses and the pink Power Ranger was my favorite; a runner, because I was very hyper and fast on my feet.
“One time I left you outside by the tree in the front yard to answer a phone call. When I came outside only a minute later, you were gone. I panicked, but soon found you in the backyard. You crawled all the way over there in that one minute I went outside,” my mom told me.
It took me more than several years to discover that I am actually both gay and a runner. I grew up in a small rural town in Connecticut called Lisbon. Lisbon is by no means a hick town, but it is pretty homogeneous, meaning that my brother and I were the only Jewish kids in our school, and I knew only a couple of black kids. Certainly no one was openly gay.
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