Crawling for Change: Sexual Assault Survivor, Summer Willis on Resilience, Running 29 Marathons, and Turning Pain into Purpose

After running 29 marathons in a year to heal from her own assault, Summer Willis knew she had to do something even bigger to spark change. Here, she reflects on the impact of her advocacy, and what’s next in her fight to reform sexual assault laws.

Her campaign, The Last Time We Crawl, saw her crawling an entire marathon for 30 hours—an unthinkable endurance feat—to raise awareness for sexual assault survivors. Looking back, what inspired her to take on such an extreme challenge? “Last year, I ran 29 marathons in a year to try to heal from my own assault, and I quickly realized something: when I took on these extreme endurance challenges, people started paying attention. They started talking about sexual assault in a way they hadn’t before. When I finished the 29th, I asked myself—what’s next? How do I turn the stories I’ve heard from survivors across the country into something that creates permanent change?”

Glamour: Your campaign, "The Last Time We Crawl," was central to this event. Now that it's behind you, how do you feel about the impact it had on raising awareness for the healing process of sexual assault survivors?

Summer: I spent a lot of time reflecting on what it means to be a survivor. The word that I didn’t want to admit but couldn’t ignore was crawl. It wasn’t just the physical struggle—it was the crawl to reclaim my body, my mind, my spirit. They crawl through legal systems that weren’t built for us. The crawl through the hurtful comments—"If you hadn’t gone to the party. If you hadn’t taken that drink." Surviving wasn’t just hard. It was slow, agonizing, relentless. But what I came to realize is that there is strength in crawling. So I made a promise—this would be the last time we crawl. And in the end, I didn’t finish on my hands and knees. I finished standing tall.

When I first shared the idea for the campaign, I got two reactions. The first was from people who thought it was crazy. The second was from survivors—who would almost instantly tear up. Because they felt it. They knew what it meant.

This was the most vulnerable I’ve ever been. The crawl laid bare what I had spent years trying to hide—that recovery is not linear, that it is painful, and that it requires an unfathomable amount of strength just to keep moving forward. At the finish line, US Congressman Lloyd Doggett quoted Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., saying: "If you can't fly, run. If you can't run, walk. If you can't walk, crawl. But whatever you do, keep moving forward." And that’s exactly what this campaign was about. 

Glamour: Breaking a world record for crawling a marathon is no small feat. What was the most challenging part of the 30-hour crawl, and how did you push through those moments when it felt the hardest?

Summer: It was the hardest physical challenge I’ve ever done.Even now, as I sit here with swollen knees, the pain lingers. But nothing prepared me for how much the crawl would feel like surviving assault all over again. The slowness—the way every mile took an hour—was a mirror to the years it took me to leave my house, to let people hug me again, to say out loud what had happened to me. When my hands and knees started bleeding, it reminded me of the abusive relationship I fell into afterward, because for years, I believed I deserved nothing better.

At the 22-hour mark, I hit my lowest point. I was back where I had been ten years ago—exhausted, hopeless, convinced I had failed. But even at my lowest, I refused to quit, I dug deeper, past the pain, past the trauma,  looked down at my T-shirt, which read:

"There is strength in crawling. There is hope in standing tall. There will be change."

So I stood up and made the choice to run the second half of the marathon. In the end, I didn’t break a world record for crawling an entire marathon as I had set out to do, but I did break world records—first for crawling the 5K, then for crawling the half marathon. And I finished the marathon standing with the  legislators at the marathon’s end, not in pain on my knees, but beside them, ready to fight for change.

Glamour: Having Texas representatives and a congressman join you for the final 0.3 miles must have been a powerful experience. How did it feel to have lawmakers participating in such a personal and important moment with you?

Summer: These legislators didn’t know me. But they showed up. This wasn’t just about finishing a race—it was about confronting the reality that in Texas, my rape is not legally considered rape because there is no clear definition of consent in our laws. That needs to change. And when we crossed the finish line together, they announced that the bill to fix this injustice will be named in my honor. This spring, I will stand before them again—not as a survivor who was ignored before I started running and crawling marathons, but as an advocate testifying, fighting to make sure that no one else has to crawl through this broken system.

Glamour: You’ve been open about your journey as both a survivor and an advocate. Reflecting on this event, how has it helped you process your own healing, and what has been the most rewarding part of sharing your story in this way?

Summer: My plan for this marathon didn’t go the way I expected. But sometimes, things unfold exactly as they should. When I reached the 13.1-mile mark—the place where I would stand up and begin running—it was directly across the street from the University of Texas, where I was raped. And instead of feeling broken, I felt joy.

Joy that  I wasn’t in excruciating pain. I wasn’t on my knees. I was standing—proud, brave, and next to my biggest cheerleader, my husband. That moment showed me I had made the right choice. That I had finally given myself permission to be okay.

Looking back, I realize that everything I thought was taken from me after the rape—my strength, my resilience, my ability to endure—was never truly gone. Running 29 marathons in a year, placing second in a 100-miler, carrying a mattress for a full marathon—these weren’t just extreme challenges. They were proof that my strength had been there all along. I just didn’t recognize it. But the most rewarding part? The messages from survivors across the country—telling me they’re finally speaking up, seeking help, and turning their pain into purpose. Knowing that this isn’t just my journey, but ours, makes every single mile, every moment of struggle, worth it.

Glamour: During your crawl, you also highlighted important legislation you’ll be testifying for. Can you share how the bills you’re advocating for could make a difference in the lives of sexual assault survivors in Texas?

Summer: Right now, Texas doesn’t have a definition of consent. The law only defines what isn’t consent, leaving loopholes wide enough for cases like mine to not even have a chance to be heard. Because I was given a drink by one man and raped by another—even though I screamed no and fought back—it wasn’t legally considered rape. This bill, the Summer Willis Act, will change that.

The other bill I’m fighting for is the elimination of the statute of limitations for sexual assault. The average survivor takes 7-13 years to process what happened to them. In Texas, they have 10 years before their case is thrown out. Thirty-one states have already eliminated their statute of limitations. It’s time for Texas to do the same.

Glamour: Looking back, how did the training and preparation for this marathon crawl contribute to your advocacy work and your personal growth as both a survivor and an advocate?

Summer: It taught me how to sit with discomfort, to persist through pain, and to trust my own strength—even when everything inside me told me to stop.

It also taught me the power of failing forward. Pushing my limits meant stepping beyond what I thought was possible, and with that came setbacks. But every so-called “failure” was really just a redirection, pushing me toward something even more powerful than I had envisioned. This crawl forced me to pivot. I had a singular idea of what success looked like, but when the plan shifted, I had to step back and see the bigger picture. And in doing that, I realized that sometimes, the most meaningful victories aren’t the ones we plan—they’re the ones we grow into.

In life, we all have moments where we feel like we’re banging our heads against a wall, frustrated that things aren’t going the way we hoped. But resilience isn’t about avoiding obstacles—it’s about learning how to adjust, how to keep going, and how to find purpose in the unexpected.

Glamour: The running community has shown tremendous support for your cause. How did the reactions and encouragement from the running community help fuel your determination throughout the event?

Summer: Running saved my life. It gave me a way to reclaim my body, to take back something that had been stolen from me. And when I stepped into the running world—a non-runner entering a space built around endurance and grit—I was met with open arms.

Distance running is a beautiful thing. It attracts people willing to push themselves to the edge, to embrace discomfort, to become stronger in the process. And somewhere along the way, those people became my people. The runners I met on these courses—at finish lines, on training runs, in moments of exhaustion—became my biggest cheerleaders and dearest friends.

They didn’t just run their own races—they ran alongside me in this mission. They helped spread the word, donated, and showed up. I couldn’t have done this without them.

Glamour: For those who may have been inspired by your story and are facing their own healing journey, what advice or insights would you share with them after completing this incredible challenge?

Summer: Healing is not linear. It’s slow. It’s painful. It will feel impossible at times. But you are stronger than you know. It may feel like they have taken everything—your body, your sense of safety, your trust in the world, even the person you used to be. But do not let them take your soul. Fight back. Run back. Walk back. Crawl back. Whatever you do, just keep moving forward. Because on the other side of this pain, life will be bigger, fuller, and more beautiful than you ever imagined.

Now that the marathon crawl is behind you, what’s next for your advocacy work? How do you plan to continue raising awareness and supporting survivors in the future?

Now that the marathon crawl is behind you, what’s next for your advocacy work? How do you plan to continue raising awareness and supporting survivors in the future?

There are three things that have been central to my healing, and I plan to keep doing them—not just for myself, but for survivors everywhere.

First, turning pain into purpose through real change. I will testify before both the Texas House of Representatives and U.S. Congress. Survivors deserve a system that recognizes their experiences and protects their rights.

Second, building community through running. Next April, I’m launching the Denim Day 5K series in five major U.S. cities, creating a space where survivors and allies can come together in strength. Our goal is to raise $1 million for sexual assault charities across the country while celebrating the resilience of survivors.

Third, creating. Writing has been one of the most powerful tools in my healing, first with my children’s book series, Around the World Adventures of Alfred Mattera, and now with an animated short film, A Letter to My Younger Self, with award-winning filmmaker Hisko Hulsing. This film will take audiences into the raw reality of trauma and, more importantly, the journey of rebuilding and reclaiming life after assault. Help us make it happen here- https://donorbox.org/a-letter-to-my-younger-self