Parkrun

Parkrun

To 'parkrun.' To be a 'parkrunner.' This is a new term in the running vernacular in the last five years – one who does not fit in with the conventional image of teenagers sprinting round a track or an overweight man huffing and puffing around the park. Who are they, this new breed of sportsperson? What does it mean to be a 'parkunner?' Where do they fit in the running community?

Running in the 21st century is a very individual pursuit. No-one does it to beat other people – they do it to get fit, to relieve stress, to forget about the working day, to get out into nature and to feel alive. Okay sometimes running against other people can help, but this is not really the activity as it now exists. Parkrunners are the modern exemplification of this - they're athletes who don't participate in track and field, they're runners who don't race, they're people who are trying to get fit but will happily meet for a slice of cake at the end of a run. They're doing it for their own goals, rather than for the goals of competing, or winning.

But hold on. If running is now such an insular activity, then why do people feel the need to do it in such a large group, week in week out?

Parkrunning is now unquestionably an integral part of the sport of running, much more so than the traditional arenas of track meetings or local cross country races. Thousands compete every week, wind rain or shine, in hundreds of different locations through the UK. It is one of the fastest growing sporting pursuits in the country.

Why is this? Why do so many people want to 'parkrun,’ as opposed to going for a run on their own?

Running, as an adult, is a little embarrassing. Many of us do it to escape something or change something we don’t like about ourselves. Doing it is, in a way, an admission of inadequacy in some form or another. We don't look very cool doing it.

However, at the same time it is a very positive activity. People who run are trying to change. They're making an effort to improve something about themselves:

'I'm overweight. I'm going to get thinner.'

'I'm unfit, I'm going to get fitter.'

'I'm unhappy. I'm going to change this.'

Then they go to a parkrun and realise that there are hundreds of other people doing this too. It isn’t a bunch of svelte young athletes in tight shorts who never had a problem in their lives, its a community of adults making an effort to feel good, about themselves and about life.

'You want to lose weight? Hey, me too!'

'You run because it makes you happy? Hey, me too!'

'You run to meet new people? Hey, me too!'

The key word here is 'effort.' A parkrun is not a race. Almost no-one turns up on a Saturday morning with a view of trying to win. However, it is not the same as a night down the pub – there is effort involved. Parkrunners are not simply chewing the fat over a few beers – they are physically expressing their desire to feel better, striving to achieve whatever personal goal is that they have laid down for themselves. Here is where the safe, open environment of a parkrun is important, that whatever our personal goal, be it a 19 minute 5k or a 39min one, then its okay, its to be respected and celebrated either way.

Parkrun is, in this way, a microcosm of how we would like modern adult life should be – a shared experience, a collective effort to keep going, to improve, one that will become easier if we share it with each other.

So herein lies the reason why parkrunning has tapped into the national consciousness in a way track and field or cross country have not. It respects the reasons people now engage with the sport. It isn't about winning, it is about achieving personal goals. It celebrates each participant as an individual, and gives them a shared identity at the same time:

parkrun (verb) – to be a runner in the 21st century. To share this with others. To be alive together.