One Man's Mission to Put the 'Out' in Outdoors

Minneapolis-based adventurer Mikah Meyer is touring the state one stride at a time, running 200 miles throughout Minnesota to promote diversity and LGBTQ+ inclusion in outdoors culture.

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Is Minnesota home to the real Forrest Gump? Minneapolis-based Mikah Meyer is running 200 miles across the state as we write this—he’s already made the trek from the South Dakota border to the Twin Cities and is currently hoofing from the State Capitol to Stillwater, the final stop in his journey. Wave wildly if you see him.

“I’m definitely a little (a lot?) crazy,” Meyer says. “My brand of adventuring I call ‘Travel Beyond Convention’ because I tend to not just ‘run with ideas’—I run marathons with them (or across states, apparently).”

Unlike Forrest Gump however, Meyer is actually running for a cause. Inspired by the murder of George Floyd in May and Pride Month in June, he embarked on the 38-day journey, which will finish on National Coming Out Day, Sunday, October 11th. Meyer’s mission—other than staying vertical for those 200 miles—is to promote diversity and LGBTQ+ inclusion in outdoors culture.

In early summer, Meyer’s social media like many of ours was filled with calls to action. “One thing I kept reading, particularly on social media, was, ‘White people, how are you going to use your privilege to make things better?’ So, I decided to use my privilege, profession, and platform to try,” he says.

Meyer relocated to Minneapolis in May 2019 after becoming the first person to tour all 419 National Park Service sites in a continuous trip (how cool is he?!). The openly gay explorer learned through his National Parks journey about the inaccessibility of outdoors culture. “I’ve heard from tens of thousands of LGBTQ+ people who don’t feel safe or wanted in outdoor spaces. Notably, queer people of color feel even more left out,” he says. “One unique problem the LGBTQ+ community faces, however, is that our minority is often invisible.”

In response, Meyer founded the Outdoor Safe Space program to communicate openness and allyship in outdoors culture. The non-verbal cue can be sported on gear to represent the presence of LGBTQ+ individuals or convey that LGBTQ+ people are welcomed and embraced by outdoor enthusiasts.

The proceeds from sponsoring a mile and any donations made for Meyer’s Run Across Minnesota go toward promoting the Outdoor Safe Space logo as a symbol of inclusion, advocacy, and representation in outdoors culture.

The Outdoor Safe Space logo works hard to carry a big—and needed—message: It includes the rainbow flag, trans flag, and bi flag, and is composed of triangles that represent all non-straight identities outside those flags. The trunk of different skin tones recognizes that non-binary people are part of every racial identity and gives racial minorities the prominent role as the core of the tree.

Diverse groups have historically been underrepresented in outdoors culture. Just ask the social media gurus at Diversify Outdoors, a collection of influencers, bloggers, and activists whose mission is to “share the goal of promoting diversity in outdoor spaces where BIPOC, LGBTQ+, and other diverse identities have historically been marginalized and silenced.”

Meyer cites the 1996 murder of a lesbian couple in Shenandoah National Park as an extreme example of anti-LGBTQ+ sentiments in outdoors culture. And while these events are rare, a lack of diversity in outdoor activities is pervasive.

The U.S. population, currently 38 percent minority groups, is expected to become a minority majority culture by 2044. That’s not all that far off, y’all.

But data from the National Park Service showcase a large diversity gap in outdoor involvement. Out of 292.8 million visitors to National Parks in 2014, only 22 percent were of minority groups, as reported by The New York Times and National Geographic. And that divide is rooted in the industry, according to Diversify Outdoors. “People of color and other diverse identities have long been underrepresented in the outdoors industry and its advertising campaigns, despite [their] undeniable purchasing power,” the coalition’s website says.

Running for Change

Combatting underrepresentation in outdoors culture isn’t an easy task, but Meyer isn’t one to back down from a challenge. In March, he committed to running all of Minneapolis’s city parks. That was before the murder of George Floyd and the birth of his Outside Safe Space logo.

“I knew I needed to do something notable to get people’s attention and share this message,” he says.

Running across the state seemed like the next step.

Two hundred miles from the South Dakota state line to the Wisconsin border. “It’s the shortest distance I could run across Minnesota while still getting to one day in a bar use the pick-up line, ‘I ran across Minnesota,’” he jokes. But really: “I wanted to wait until the weather cooled down and the bugs dissipated enough that running across Minnesota wouldn’t be a disgusting hot and unpleasant experience.”

Between the vibrant palette and the temps, fall was perfect timing. Meyer aimed for a Labor Day weekend start and gave himself until early October to finish. “Last year on October 10th in was snowing and 32 degrees, so I figured that was my window,” he says. It breaks down to about six miles a day. “I had been training at 7 miles every other day, so almost doubling my running didn’t seem TOO crazy.”

Meyer, who grew up the son of a Lutheran pastor in Lincoln, Nebraska, was often exposed to Minnesota, visiting often for church conferences and later working as a camp counselor at Lake Wapogasset Lutheran Bible Camp in Wisconsin. “Minnesota and it’s densely Lutheran population have been on my radar my whole life, I guess. It just took me 33 years to get here for good,” he says.

Meyer now calls Minneapolis home “because I believe it’s the best place in America for a 34-year-old, gay, single, remote-worker to live.” (Brownie points for the Twin Cities!)

At 34, Meyer hasn’t been a Minnesota resident for long but has probably seen more of the state in the last month than most of us born-and-raised folks have—you betcha.

Starting at the South Dakota border on September 4, Meyer ran 90 miles along highways 212 and 7 from State Line Wayside Park to Cosmos, Minnesota. (It took him until the 11th just to reach Maynard.) He finally arrived in Cosmos on September 19. From the 20th to the 30th, Meyer trekked 63 miles on the Luce Line from Cosmos to Plymouth. Just last week, Meyer arrived in the Twin Cities—but he didn’t stop there.

The final leg of the journey is 40 miles through the ‘burbs and downtowns, all the way to Stillwater. He used parts of the Twin Cities Marathon route—gorgeous this time of year—reaching the State Capitol on Monday. From there, he’s taking to the Gateway Trail to reach his final destination: Stillwater’s recently restored Lift Bridge on October 11.

“The whole reason I do these epic journey is because my dad passed away at age 58, when I was 19, and I learned that none of us are guaranteed to make it to retirement to have time to do the kind of grand adventures that take more than two weeks’ vacation,” he says. “I took a road trip just days after his funeral to honor the road trips he loved and we’d never get together—and committed to doing one epic trip every year for the rest of my life in his honor.”

His days, surprisingly, consist of more administrative than physical efforts. Meyer (a bit of a night owl) gets up at 8:30 and has his Lara Bar and tea while doing anywhere from three to six hours of planning route details, organizing his support people, communicating with his sponsors, and updating his website. For example, his hour long run to the State Capitol on Monday involved eight hours of admin, from pre-run prep to post-run editing and coordination. “Of the first 10 days of the project, I only went to bed before midnight once,” he says.

In the afternoon or early evening, he hits the pavement (or gravel) to log that day’s mileage, wearing different Outside Safe Space apparel for each portion. “It may be hard to believe but running is actually the easiest part of my day. It’s the least amount of topics I’m focused on at once, as the logistics of pulling off a project like this far outweigh the running complications,” Meyer says.

His support person for that day (in total he’s had 11 support people throughout his journey because no one could commit to the full 38 days) bikes with him taking photos and video while Meyer slides by the scenery. “It’s a combination of me focusing on my stride and texting or shouting back and forth with my support person about photos and angles as they zip from behind to in front of me and back again,” he says.

In the early days, Meyer enjoyed talking with locals in the small western towns where he overnighted in his Winnebago. Not every interaction has been Minnesota Nice, though. Only three miles into his journey, passersby yelled a derogatory comment out the window of their vehicle at Meyer. “It was both a disheartening moment of realizing where we’re still at in 2020…but also encouraging for the work that needs to be done—that I can help do.”

Though our favorite part would be the end, Meyer’s favorite part of the run so far was the Luce Line Trail. After 91.25 miles along highways, next to semis, bugs biting and flying in his face, the 63 miles of dedicated trail from Cosmos to Plymouth were a relief.

Finishing Strong

Meyer will cross the Minnesota-Wisconsin border—and officially complete his journey—via the iconic Lift Bridge at 5:15 p.m. on Sunday, October 11, which is National Coming Out Day.

“I wanted to end somewhere very recognizable,” he says. The options based on his path were Stillwater of Hudson. “Stillwater is in Minnesota and Hudson in Wisconsin, so it has that going for it.” (Already talking like a true Minnesotan.)

Stillwater had planned to celebrate its recently renovated Lift Bridge in June but couldn’t due to COVID-19 restrictions. “Ending on that bridge would be a great way to help draw attention to that,” Meyer says. “Once I realized October 11th was National Coming Out Day AND a holiday weekend (meaning people could hopefully come to my finale), it was too perfect to pass up.”

Here's your chance to be extras in the ’94 Tom Hanks flick: Run the final mile with Meyer in Stillwater at 5 p.m. on Sunday. More of a dancer? Line up on both sides of the Lift Bridge in the pedestrian lanes along the interior green metal frame to stay out of the way of other peds and pedalers. Dancing is encouraged, as is mask-wearing and 6-foot-distancing. A livestream option is also available on Meyer’s Instagram.

“So much of my thirst for adventure is to honor [my father’s] life that was cut short, and to make sure no matter when I die, I feel like I lived my years well,” he says.

So far, mission accomplished for Meyer, who has a few other plans up his sleeve.

In June and July of 2021, he hopes to traverse the world’s northernmost pilgrimage: a 32-day hike across Norway. “Norway is also the most expensive country in the world, so if the local Sons of Norway chapter, the Daytons, or Lutheran travel-writer Rick Steves want to help make that happen, I’m all ears,” Meyer says.

Of course, winter is not the off season for the traveler-runner. He plans to “escape the harsh Minnesota winter” in February to run across a state in the South. Maybe Mississippi, if he can secure funding from a state tourism organization.

“All my Minnesota friends keep saying, ‘Don’t do that, you’ll legitimately get killed,’” Meyer says. “As my Lutheran upbringing taught me, if we really claim something as a value, we need to be willing to defend it publicly and give up our personal security for the greater good. So, I’m ready to run the next state.”

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