Celebration of the century
Willow Blooms #012 Life's a run not a race
I’m trying out voiceovers. I’ve done so because I know that it can sometimes be difficult to sit down and read and I want to make my articles as accessible as possible. I couldn’t read books for a couple of years and loved diving into audiobooks, especially when they were read by the author. Bear in mind that the voiceover was recorded at home on my phone, so there may be some crackles, the sound of the wind, and definitely some stumbling over the words. I’d love it if you could let me know if you like experiencing Willow Blooms this way, and if so I’ll keep offering them!
Hello! And to those of you in the UK, I hope some of the glorious sunshine reached you yesterday or today. It was not quite the heatwave that I’d seen promised on the forecast, but Saturday’s sunshine was very welcome after all the April showers.
I’m pivoting from my planned post, because it’s not quite finished! Instead I’m sharing something that I hope is joyful, ticking my well-being box in lots of ways.
The tale of a parkrun century
This weekend I volunteered at a parkrun event where one of the regulars completed her 100th run.
‘So what’, you might be saying. ‘Loads of people have done that, that’s nothing special’
Or maybe you’re asking, ‘What’s parkrun?’
I’ll start with that, just in case, and come back to any of you grumps who had the first thoughts.
Parkrun, is a free event that takes place every weekend across many towns and cities worldwide. Parkrun website says there are over 1200 events at 816 locations, whilst Wikipedia's parkrun page says over 2000 locations. Regular readers will know that I like to do fact checks, but fun as it might be to try to count all the flags on the parkrun world map to check which website is closer to the truth, I haven’t done so. Here’s the link to the parkrun maps, should you be so inclined. I’m sure we’ve all got better things to do, so I’m going with the parkrun page on this one…
The event was founded by Paul Sinton Hewitt, coming up to 20 years ago, apparently because he was experiencing depression at the time. Wikipedia may not be the most reliable source of clinical information, but it links Hewitt’s depression to being unable to run due to injury, and says he started a weekly event as a way to meet up with his running friends. Things grew from there, with a mission to make events as accessible as possible, encouraging people to exercise and become part of the parkrun community.
Every site has a course that is 5 kilometres long and they meet at 9am on Saturday mornings. This means whichever event you go to, there is a consistent start time, and reasonably consistent rules. Despite its name, people don’t have to run, and can join in by walking, jogging, running, volunteering or watching and cheering. They encourage people to register in advance. This means they each have an individual ID, with a barcode and identifying runner number. Everyone scans these in at the end, along with a numbered tag which is paired up with the stop watch timings, to keep a record of each runner’s attendance and finish time.
But of course, it’s not a race
Every week the race director will call out-
‘Remember, this is a run, not a race. What is it??’
Each week those of us listening and not chatting to friends or running late and hurrying to join the back of the crowd, call back ‘It’s a run, not a race’.
This to encourage a community where every participant feels welcome, safe and successful, whatever their speed and placing. Whilst there is a general guideline and expectation that slower runners keep to the left hand side of the course, allowing faster runners space to pass on the right, there are sometimes clashes with suboptimal co-ordination of movements!
(NOTE- Is this a British left hand driving thing, I wonder as I write this? Does each country go with the side of the road the cars drive on? Can anyone from a right hand driving country help me on this? How do you do parkrun?!).
Coming back to the start line and the race director’s spiel, the whistle is blown. Buttons are pressed on sports watches (because of course a run has not happened if Strava or similar has not captured it), and the front few lines of people fly away, pretending they are running, and not racing. The rest follow along, doing a mix of the two, and the spaces between them get bigger as the laps roll around.
The fast runners are fast, and competition for the top places is fierce. I only realised today whilst googling, that parkrun have recently removed the much coveted course records from their website. Parkrun tourism is a big thing for some people, and the super fast were known to travel around the county, to try to beat other course records. Their name and time used to be displayed on the course website for the next speedy challenger to aim for. But not any more.
Wikipedia reports that there was considered to be
‘a disconnect between the performance data displayed so prominently on the site, and our mission to create opportunities for as many people as possible to take part in parkrun events - especially those who are anxious about activities such as parkrun, but who potentially have an enormous amount to gain.’
I have to admit that my first reaction to this news was to feel a little sad. I am not convinced that someone motivated enough to check out the parkrun website, would then be put off by the course record. But I have a history as an amateur competitive runner, so acknowledge that times and PBs (personal bests) have historically been a driver for me, and something I might admire rather than be intimidated by. Others with less joyful past experiences of running, or sport, and exercise in general understandably may have different reactions. This decision was based on feedback of a ‘global working group’, so I trust that they know better than me on this one!
The parkrun website happily obliges me with some stats. Their graph showing numbers over time, indicates that the uptake of parkrun runners has been up and down. The huge gap in the middle, is of course when events stopped during the pandemic. It’s interesting to note that the number of runners has risen, but not quite returned to the pre-pandemic amount.
Key:
Grey- Number of events Orange- No. of Runners Green- No. of Volunteers
See this link for more details- it’s an interactive graph so you can have fun! There’s a big dip somewhere in early 2018 that makes me curious. Zooming in I can see there no records from 17th Feb until 10th March. Something must’ve happened- was it snowy in the UK?!
All achievements are equally valued
Course stats aside, there is much to celebrate about the parkrun movement.
It is positive, welcoming and inclusive, there is no time limit and no one finishes last. Everyone is welcome to come along.
Inclusivity and celebration are built into the parkrun model. Each week one of the volunteers has the role of ‘tail walker’. This person acts as the ‘sweep’, following behind the runners and walkers. This ensures there are checks on anyone falling behind or dropping out of the back, and removes any uncertainty about the end of the event. The tail walker goes at whatever pace is needed, and their time is always the last in the results list, so no runner finishes last.
At yesterday’s event, the fastest runner completed the course in 17 minutes and 51 seconds, a PB for them. And the runner who finished just before the tail runners, completed it in 60 minutes and 20 seconds. This was not their PB, but they wore a sash all the way around the course, and were cheered in by marshals, and a merry band of tail walkers and following supporters, to celebrate their achievement. One hundred park runs completed. They finished with their usual smile.
Every week parkrun reminds me that there are so many ways to measure achievements. Even when most people have gone home, someone is quietly winning at their life. Winning can be relative and personal and collaborative, rather than absolute and relational and competitive, as we are too often taught.
Turning up to one hundred events and completing the course in an hour, means this person has clocked about 100 hours of running.
The fastest runner turns up 100 times, and clocks 28 hours of running.
The course record times tell us nothing of the stories behind them.
Each and every story is worthy of celebration.
I love parkrun for this, and that it has helped me change my relationship with it. I love to run. I loved to race. I used to run parkrun near-ish the front, chasing my own record, seeking a PB, or to be in front of the people I knew ran similar times. It was a run not a race, but it was a run that I could bring my competitive self to, and let’s be honest, race a bit.
Until I couldn’t run at all. Like Hewitt, this had a significant impact on my well-being. Parkrun was an anchor that remained present at a time when there was such change, and a place that welcomed me back, regardless of my place in the finish times. The volunteers didn’t care that I was slower, if I needed to stop and walk, they smiled and cheered and rang their bells just as hard for me as anyone. And so I learned a different way to run. Often side by side in conversation, learning to manage my breathing, attending to my body, and moderating my pace as was required. I still heard the voice nudging me on, especially in the last few hundred meters, heavy breathing and slapping shoe sounds from behind telling me a runner was hot on my heels and racing to overtake on the last stretch. I felt the pull in my body, the competitive animal in me wanting to take them on. And sometimes I failed to hold that back, and I paid the price with Post Exertion Malaise. But soon I learned to listen to my wise mind, the compassionate part which cares more about my wellbeing than my times. I lost count of the number of conversations I have had with other runners, happy to see me back, eager to encourage my ongoing improvement, celebrating the reduction in my times. I accept their kindness with gratitude, I am also so grateful to be back running, but my goals are so very different. I am creeping towards my own 100th parkrun. I am enjoying taking roles as a volunteer, and I have separated the pleasure of running from the number on the stopwatch.
I have learned the hard way that is when we slow down that we most get to experience the wonder in life. Yesterday, whilst helping to pack up parkrun, this was my reward-
A bird with its distinctive tail slowly circling not far above our heads. Too small I suspect to make out from the picture, that a beautiful red kite had come to play in the warm air! The markings on its belly distinct in the sunlight, going round and round as if without a care in the world. It did three or four circuits before starting to veer away and over the grassy land. I grabbed my phone and tried to capture the moment, happy to be there at just the right time to enjoy its graceful flyover.
We are often sold the story that progress is linear, and should go in one direction, as if this is possible, or even desirable. What if we measured progress in a different way? What if we valued the experience on the day. The joy we feel. The battle won against the pull of sleep, making it for the 9 o clock whistle. The conversation we braved with a stranger shivering beside us. Allowing the praise and encouragement from another runner to soak in as they lap us, and starting to acknowledge our achievement in showing up for ourselves.
Parkrun is a run not a race. It is about being active, being amongst a friendly community, and knowing you can show up exactly as you are. No-one is left behind. Despite my initial sadness, if dropping the course records and focussing less on the stats means more people feel brave enough to try it out, then I’ll gladly accept the parkrun wisdom.
I’ll leave you with some wisdom of my own, from a poem I wrote February 2023, when I was really starting to put my learning about pacing into practice.
The Hare and the Tortoise Retold
I’m sure you’ll all have heard the tale
where tortoise soundly beats the hare.
It’s told as caution not to hurry,
not to boast, and not to worry
if others seem ahead.
The tortoise has a shell, you see,
a place she can retreat.
The poor hare has to run because
escape is through his feet.
He’s fast, and thinks his only chance
is to win with all his flair,
but winning became everything
for that competitive hare.
He bathed in praise,
he puffed his chest
he thought he was the best,
and so he stopped, right near the end
and took a little rest.
The tortoise had such little feet
she had to take things slow
her tiny steps trod past the hare
because she kept on going.
And when the hare got beat that day
he did not take it well.
The stories told of his defeat
shamed and left him a mere shell
of his former self.
The tortoise has a heart of gold,
she knew the hare was hurting,
and beneath the cool façade
he wasn’t one for shirking.
The bigger, better story here
came once the race was over
as tortoise gave the hare a hug
and promised a do-over.
Tortoise knows we all feel shame,
when winning is a shield,
to all the flaws we don’t want seen,
and needs our care to heal.
The moral message, is be kind
whenever you are able.
And you are able every day-
that’s the tortoise fable.
I’d love to hear about your parkrun achievements, and whether you are a parkrun tourist, a PB chaser, or social plodder. I hope I’ve inspired you to give it a go, if you have parkruns in your area. You can check on this link!
Have a great week. Let’s be more tortoise!