SATIRE: Texas Introduces New Olympic Sport: Congressional Fugitive Dash Turns Lawmakers into Track and Field Gold Medalists

Texas lawmakers trade suits for running gear to take part in this dash from authoritarianism, lack of accountability, and sometimes the state line

Natalie C. Frank, Ph.D August 6, 2025

Texas Congressional Marathon runners jogging in front of the Central Standard Building in Chicago by Marco Verch [CC BY 2.0]

In a surprise move ahead of the 2028 Olympics, the International Olympic Committee has announced the inclusion of a new, real-time, track and field event inspired by the recent legislative sprint for Texas to Chicago: The Congressional Fugitive Flight. Sponsored by Texas, the Lone Star State will also serve as the proud host of this inaugural political marathon, where the gold medal requires gerrymandering, evasion of arrest, and cross-state stamina. There are no rules to this event and participants can complete the race through any means of transportation necessary.

What began as a last ditch attempt to halt a redistricting vote has become something far more incredible: an Olympic sport. The new event is part performance art part cardio-intensive expression of civil disobedience and good trouble. The sight of Texas Democrats hurling themselves onto planes bound for Chicago to prevent a vote they knew they'd never win, has become an international inspiration. Somewhere between a protest and a cross-country escape room, the Congressional Fugitive Flight is poised to become the most talked-about Olympic event since the relay swimming event with sharks and jellyfish.

Texas Republicans, ever the trailblazers of Constitutional procedural creativity, have called the new event “an opportunity to showcase American values,” though no one can quite agree on which ones. Perhaps it’s perseverance. Perhaps it’s the ability to run very fast while simultaneously claiming to defend democracy and ignoring GOP efforts to weed Democrats out of districts. Either way, it's red, white, blue, and one of the most fun Olympic events to watch.

Athletes, er, legislators, train year-round for this event. The most important qualification requires sprinting up courthouse steps with local police and sheriffs chasing behind, shouting to distract them and waving subpoenas in the air. Participants must cross at least one state line into a blue state without getting caught and forced to return to their home state to act as warm bodies to make up a quorum the GOP need to pass their redistricting bill. Additional event qualifying events include jumping over questionable GOP ethics, and issuing press releases mid-run.

Since they never know when gerrymandering might be required, this Olympic event is held in real-time. The uniform consists of casual Friday wear, orthopedic running shoes and headbands that read, "Make America Sane Again". Their faces will be painted with woad and charcoal to scare off non-playing characters. Hydration responsibilities will be performed by interns tossing electrolyte-rich sweet tea from the sidelines so as not to slow participants down.

The event begins in a Texas statehouse, where a countdown clock ticks toward an upcoming vote on controversial GOP sponsored legislation. At 1 minute before the clock reaches zero , participating lawmakers must launch themselves from their desks, dodging President- appointed security officials trying to enforce parliamentary procedure, evade lobbyists trying to plead their cause, and bolt toward the exit. Once in motion, they have just 24 hours to clear the state line and arrive in a sanctuary city, and post a self-righteous Instagram story before they can be dragged back by state troopers or peer pressure. Should any member be caught before clearing the state line, the entire team will be disqualified and must return to their state legislature to allow the GOP vote to proceed.

The course includes checkpoints like “Airport Security Philosophical Debate,” “Speaking Like a Swamp Person, Airport Bar Antics ,” TSA Dog Sniffing of Briefcases.” The final leg of the race ends in a neighboring blue city, where each legislator must deliver a 90-minute monologue about protecting democracy while being given sanctuary status.

Controversy has recently erupted over the qualifications for entry. Critics argue that only those who are currently employed as elected officials should be allowed to compete, but others note that unwelcome lobbyists, disgraced former governors, blacklisted journalists and C-list political podcasters should all be permitted to participate. A spokesperson for the IOC clarified that “anyone with a fitness tracker who is avoiding persecution by those belonging to a different party who have an inflated ego and sense of self-importance and a fitness" is eligible.

Texas Governor Greg Abbott, who has spent much of his second term threatening to arrest his own coworkers, will be acting as a special commissioner for the event. “This isn’t just about running from votes,” he said at a recent press conference. “It’s about running from fake news stories and the tradition of partisanship. And possibly toward Illinois or Indiana.”

Meanwhile, Democratic lawmakers insist they’re simply using the only tool left in their toolbox: strategic absence ensured by flight. “It’s not about avoiding democracy,” said one anonymous participant between bites of a Chicago deep-dish pizza. “It’s about honoring it by reminding voters that the U.S. is not a one party country, through the act of treating politics as if it is a cult road trip film.”

The IOC is reportedly in talks to expand the Fugitive Dash format to other regions. Florida is developing a variant called “The Don’t Say Sprint,” in which lawmakers must flee classrooms full of banned books. California is mulling over “The Budget Blame Blaze" where officials run in circles pointing fingers until someone passes a balanced budget or they all collapse from avocado deficiency.

But Texas will likely remain the center of political performance art. No other state has combined pageantry, panic, and policy prevention so effortlessly. As the world watches this high-octane flight from legislative overtake, one thing is clear: while some nations excel at skiing or gymnastics, America dominates in the sport characterized by creative chaos.

In a time when voters crave leadership, clarity, and maybe just one normal day, the Congressional Fugitive Flight reminds us that we are not governed strictly by stoic statesmen, but by remarkably limber flight artists. And honestly, if we’re going to be sprinting away from political problems, at least let it count for something in the medal tally.

So grab your popcorn, your voter registration card, and your fastest pair of walking shoes because in Texas politics, standing your ground is out, and running full speed into ideological limbo is fast becoming the new national pastime.

Let the games begin.