A good friend of mine recently achieved something extraordinary. She became the first woman ever to be the overall winner in the history of her race. Not just the female category, but the entire field. It should have been front-page news for the event, a moment to celebrate history being made.
And yet, in the post-race coverage, the story was framed around the men’s results. Her success, groundbreaking, inspiring, hard-earned, was overlooked.
This isn’t just an oversight. It’s a pattern.
Stories shape culture. Young girls coming into sport deserve to see that women can and do take the overall win. They need to know their performances aren’t secondary, or only worth mentioning if there’s no man nearby. They need to see role models smashing ceilings, not being brushed aside.
We can’t keep allowing women’s achievements to be muted while men’s successes are amplified. Every time this happens, it reinforces the message that women’s performances are somehow less worthy, less exciting, less newsworthy. But they’re not.
This frustration isn’t limited to sport. It reminds me of the way media outlets often ignore certain diseases, brain tumours being a prime example. Despite being the biggest cancer killer of under-40s, they rarely get the attention or funding they deserve. The silence sends a message that some stories, some struggles, are less important than others.
I know this personally. I wouldn’t even have heard about many of the incredible female endurance athletes out there if I hadn’t been an endurance athlete myself. That’s how invisible their stories can be, even to those of us who follow the sport closely. And it’s not just in races. Take Karen Kyllesø, a 21-year-old Norwegian adventurer who earlier this year became the youngest person to reach the South Pole solo and unsupported, skiing over 1,100 km in 54 days. Despite the magnitude of her achievement, it received barely any mainstream media attention — a stark reminder of how easily women’s accomplishments are overlooked.
For me, I know I’ll never stand on the top step of a podium. The side effects I live with every single day mean I carry a different kind of challenge into every race, every adventure, every training session. But that doesn’t make me any less of an athlete. It doesn’t make the miles I cover any less meaningful. And it certainly doesn’t make my determination any less fierce.
That’s why my friend’s win matters so much. Because it shows what women are capable of when the barriers don’t hold them back. It shows every girl watching that they don’t just have to chase a category win; they can chase the overall. This is exactly why we need the media and event organisers to shine a light on these moments.
Because when women win, we all win. Their stories inspire, they break ceilings, and they remind us what’s possible.
It’s 2025. Women are running faster, climbing higher, and pushing further than ever before. It’s time the world started celebrating that with the same energy, pride, and coverage it gives to men. And the same goes for critical health stories that deserve attention, in both sport and life, visibility matters.