Running home
The great thing – or one of the many great things - about running is the fact that you can find kindred spirits wherever you are. Seven years ago, I didn’t know any runners. Now most of the people I regard as friends are runners.
Of course, whenever you have a keen interest in something you will gravitate towards people who feel a similar way. You will come across your shared interest through a conversation with a colleague or by joining a local group, if there is one.
The joy of running is that there are runners everywhere. After my initial attempt at running I built up the courage to join the crazy, brightly coloured individuals I had seen at the local park on Saturday mornings. This, I discovered, was a free, weekly, organised and timed run that anyone could enter - parkrun.
My first week I stood alone watching everyone stretching, chatting and laughing together. A guy walked up to me and introduced himself. He asked if it was my first time. When I admitted it was, he proceeded to talk me through what would happen and how to use my barcode. He met me at the end and asked if I had enjoyed it and encouraged me to come back the next week.
That second week I looked for him and went and said hi. Over time he introduced me to people he knew and within a few weeks I was part of a group that met up, ran together and then went for coffee afterwards.
Some of the group attended a club. I didn’t feel ready for that kind of commitment and didn’t believe I was anywhere near the standard needed to be a club runner. They kept on badgering me and explained that it was for all abilities from beginners to competition runners. The programme was set so that we all trained together but at our own pace.
Again it took some courage, but I went along and found it to be a welcoming and again incredibly friendly environment. Over the next four years Parklands Jogand Run became my ‘home’. I entered races under the name PJR, wore the kit and took part in the training and social events.
In 2017 I was made redundant and moved to Folkestone for work. Aside from meeting people through my new job, my first port of call was the local parkrun. Again, it only took a couple of weeks before I had sparked conversations with people, and we began to acknowledge each other every week.
This soon grew into friendship and once again coffee and cake was involved. A couple of us formed our own club/training group called Bald Monkeys Running Club. It was named after one [particularly adventurous run] in which we found ourselves lost in a wood and clambering down a steep slope by swinging from branch to branch like a couple of monkeys. Oh, and we are both follicly challenged.
We now train and run marathons together. I’m friends with dozens of people in the local area who I often see out on the streets in their trainers.
This my new running home, yet I still feel I have a home in Northampton as well. In fact, I feel as though (to wrongly quote 80’s pop idol Paul Young) wherever I lay my trainers, that’s my home.
Whenever I visit another parkun, whether it be in Deal along the coast, Lanhydrock in Cornwall on holiday, or Westmill when traveling with work, it feels like a home. There among other people who feel, think and act the same. People who understand the importance of community, encouragement, courage and fun. We say hi, share stories and inspire one another.
I guess it is true that home is where the heart is. The heart is where love is. And I love running.
