Outrunning the binary: A trans and queer community run in London

It’s a sunny July morning on Hackney Marshes, an expansive green space in East London. A few dog walkers are out, while some canal boat residents are sipping coffee on the towpath. Volunteers for Queer Running Club are putting up colourful signs pointing the way to the start of Transcend, the third edition of Hackney’s queer- and trans-only running and walking event.

At the race village, runners queue to drop off their bags and pick up bib numbers. It’s the usual pre-race routine of zipping up bags, fidgeting with safety pins and queuing for portaloos. But the overall mood is more relaxed than at big commercial races. That’s because this is not just a run. It’s an opportunity to practice sports together in a safe environment, free of prejudice and hate. The run is not timed and people of all abilities can take part. Half of all entry fees go toward funding gender-affirming surgeries.

Dais Hale, also known as drag king Daddy Pecs, is starting off the event by doing a chest reveal: they had gender-affirming top surgery and are elated, dancing topless to Robbie Williams’ “Rock DJ”. Then they lead an improvised warm-up that doubles as a comedy show, with leg kicks against transphobia. A more rigorous warmup follows, led by Marathon Max, a coach with more than 100 marathons and ultras under her belt. “Push the button” by the Sugababes is blasting on the PA. Hip circles and leg swings turn into dance moves.

“We are not just a running club, babes.” Kole Fulmine, the founder of Queer Running Club, is holding the microphone now. “We are also a family, a home, a sober safe space for queer and trans people to meet and run together.” He explains that the club works with race organisers to give more queer and trans people access to races and regularly fundraises for LGBTQIA+ charities. But first and foremost, it organises several weekly runs in different parts of London, including long runs, speed training and strength work.

Today is the club’s big yearly event. A few hundred people gather beneath the inflatable starting arch. Pacers take their positions, easy to spot, with tall flags on their backs indicating the speed they are targeting. Shavorn Aborealis, a drag queen with long eyelashes and sparkly silver eyeshadow, will run at a very respectable pace of 5:00 min/km. You’re free to follow — if you can!

And then off we go, to the sound of cowbells and cheers. Right from the start it becomes clear that this is a chatty run. In front of me are two runners discussing the French pronunciation of the word ‘Beaujolais’, with hilarious results (“no, it’s NOT Byew-jolay!”).

Other runners are in their own zone, chugging along. Refreshment points at Transcend offer water, orange slices and a bit of queer relief. King Loose Willis, a drag king in a heavy metal outfit, brandishes a water gun. “Would you like some refreshment?” he asks as I jog past. Of course I do! I lift my arms and turn in a circle. “Full rotisserie!” He shouts and sprays. The water helps me cool down - the sun is really bearing down now. Daddy Pecs is armed, too, blowing bubbles with a bubble gun.

Volunteers cheer us on with blue and purple pompoms and signs that read “outrun the binary” or “watch out - queer babes about!” A long stretch up a bridge has runners return the same way - routings like these often make a race course seem to drag on forever. A few runners who are already on their way back are handing out high fives in passing, a welcome distraction. “Turn here if you’re queer!” volunteers shout as I reach the turnaround point at the north side of the Olympic Village.

The heat is starting to get to me now. I resist the temptation to head to the finish line at the 5km mark and carry on into a second lap.

The course runs along shared paths. Many people seem amused by the playful energy and the funny signs. I do come across two ladies who stare angrily at the line of runners. It could be nothing, but it is a reminder to not let my guard down. I may be at an inclusive event, but we’re all still in public at a time when queer- and transphobia are on the rise in the UK.

I pass the off-road stretch where I considered shortening my run to a 5k earlier on, so I know the finish line is near. A few more turns and I am on the gravel path leading to the finish line. I’m greeted with cowbells and applause as I run through the inflatable arch. A volunteer hands me a drink, a banana and a small neon keyring printed with the word “Transcend”.

I find my partner and my dog and we sit in the grass to watch more runners arrive. One woman is joined by her excited little dog in the last few metres of her race, drawing even louder cheers. The joy is contagious.

Some people will have completed their first 5k or 10k run today. Many don’t even see running as their main sport. Like Elliott and Alex, who prefer lifting weights. Did they enjoy the run? “No,” they laugh.

Cloe’s main passion is hockey. She came to cheer for players from the London Royals Hockey Club, the UK’s biggest LGBTQ+ hockey club. A group of them was running in front of me in matching red tops.

They all showed up, because trans- and queer-centered sport events are still rare. It feels important to participate, no matter how fast or slow we run. Our quads might burn the next day, but we exercised them among people who understand how alienating it can be to practice sport in a straight, cis world.

“Running is so straight, and it's so corporate, and it's so… it's so difficult. So, I think, for me, I was like, okay, how do I make that space queer,” Kole Fulmine said in an interview a few weeks after the race.

He remembers often having felt uncomfortable in sports settings.

“I would go to classes and I would be misgendered or grouped in a category that I didn't feel comfortable in. I never saw any representation of my lived experience,” he said.

So he just started the communities that he wished existed, like Queer Running Club and Pecs Education, a strength and conditioning class for trans masculine and non-binary folks.

This summer, those communities found a home: together with Ailsa, the founder of Hot Girls Boxing, he opened WIP LDN, East London's first queer and trans gym.

“I do want this space to be more than just a gym. We're going to hopefully have hormone workshops and surgery workshops,” Kole says.

In recent years, trans women in the UK have increasingly been excluded from competitive sports. In 2025, Supreme Court judges ruled that the "concept of sex is binary." As a result, the Equality and Human Rights Commission subsequently updated its guidelines to state that trans people are not allowed to use single-sex toilets and changing rooms anymore. Many in the community feel less safe in public spaces.

Security is always a concern when it comes to organising Transcend, Kole says. “It’s something that we do over the build-up of the year. We have to do quite a few risk assessments.” Evacuation plans have been drawn up and eight team members of Safe Only CIC, a queer-led and not-for-profit safety company, are working in the race village and along the course. The police are involved, too.

“They scared me a bit because they said a month before the race that the risk level was at critical, so they’d have eyes on the event,” Kole recalls. He requested that officers not enter the race village on the day. They agreed and stayed at the periphery of the course, monitoring nearby carparks and bridges. The event went smoothly, even if there “was a bit of concern over a few people that were looking a bit upset about the race,” as Kole put it.

He hopes for more community-led movements. “I think we need it. And I think we're really good at it. I think queer people are really good at holding space for each other. And when we see a lack, we move into it and we kind of expand into it,” Kole says. “From exclusion comes something else, and that's what's always happened, historically.”

The joyful community run at Hackney Marshes is testament to that.