How Faith Kipyegon Empowers Herself — and All Women Runners
- October 23, 2024
In 2011, Faith Kipyegon walked the grounds at Unhuru Gardens in Nairobi, Kenya, the wind tossing the long grass in her path. She was 16 years old and competing in the junior division of the Kenyan National Cross Country Championships, recognized as one of the most competitive races in the world, a 6-kilometer sprint over rough, hilly terrain through Kenya’s Rift Valley. After checking out the race course on a leisurely walk, the only variable that mattered to Faith was, poetically, the matter under her feet. “I took one look at the texture of the grass, how soft it was, and I told my coach ‘I’m not going to use my spikes today. I’m going to win barefoot,’” she says. And she did.
In some ways, Faith Kipyegon, now 30, still describes herself as that same, barefooted young runner who believed she could go the distance. Her performance in Paris this summer secured her place in track lore as the only runner, man or woman, to win three back-to-back gold medals in the 1,500 meter. Her 2023 campaign, when she set world records in the 1,500m, the mile, and the 5,000m, is considered one of the greatest individual seasons in the history of track and field. In other ways, her identity as a runner has fundamentally changed, particularly since the 2018 addition of her very junior training partner, her daughter Alyn.
Here, Faith shares more on her dominant career, the intersection of motherhood and running identity, the one thing Alyn needs after a victory by her mother, and more.
Running barefoot has always felt comfortable to me. When I started running competitively at 14, I was given spikes to wear for the first time. I was happy to have them, but feeling as comfortable in spikes as I was while running barefoot took a long time. I even turned down wearing spikes a few times. Now, I still can’t believe how I’m running in the fastest spikes on the planet.
Running is a shared childhood experience in Kenya. I grew up in a small village called Ndababit, in Nakuru country, about 140 miles west of Nairobi. From the time I was in preschool, we’d run four kilometers to school, run back home for lunch, run back to school, and then run four kilometers home, every day through the 8th grade.
When young runners from the next generation watch me compete, I want them to see freedom — the freedom to challenge themselves in new ways. My 2024 season was beautiful. I was thankful for competing in the 5,000m in Paris and the 1,500m, which happened a few days later. But when I held that silver medal from the 5,000m, I thought to myself, “I can’t let this disturb my 1,500 dreams.” So I put that silver medal away. I had to be mentally strong to achieve my goal in the 1,500m.
Motherhood gives me life as a runner. I’ve gotten extra energy from being a mother to Alyn. She sees how committed I am, how hard I work. During the season, she understands that I go to training camp from Monday to Saturday, and then I go back home, only to spend one day with her. It’s really not easy, but she understands the sacrifices I’m making. She motivates me to work as hard as I can.
I talk to my daughter before every race. She normally says the same thing to me: She wishes me all the best, and she asks me to bring chocolate back home — and the gold medal.
"Motherhood gives me life as a runner."
— Faith Kipyegon
Motherhood can affect how you see your running career. My approach to Rio, Tokyo and Paris were all totally different. My first gold medal in Rio, I was 22, so young. I was still running for myself. In Tokyo, I had my daughter around me, but she was only three years old, and she couldn’t fully understand what I was doing. She was watching me and going, “Mommy’s running,” not, “Mommy’s running for a gold medal.” In Paris, she knows what it’s like when I win, but she also knows what it’s like when I lose. After the 5,000 in Paris, she called me and asked, “Mom, why were you in position two this time? What happened?” It’s very difficult to explain to a child what happened in a race while still being a role model to her. It’s totally different from Rio. Today, I’m running to inspire my daughter and other young girls like her.
All athletes have something that exists outside their comfort zone. For me, that’s swimming. I remember in 2011 when I was in Punta Umbria for the youth international cross country championships. I met with my team at one of the local lakes to celebrate. I looked down at the water, believing it was this shallow pool. I jumped in. The next thing I knew, the water was up to my ears, and I couldn’t hear anything. Swimming is the one thing I wish I was better at.
When I reach the end of my career, I want to be known for empowering all women, and especially new mothers. It’s possible to be a mother, go on maternity leave, and come back even stronger than before. Being a mother is not the end of your career. It’s the beginning of a new chapter.