An article by Holly Stark, North Lincolnshire writer and MA Creative Writing graduate, University of Hull.
Every Saturday, hundreds of volunteers, walkers and runners gather together at 9am for Parkrun.
Across the UK, people arrive in parks, country estates and green spaces, barcode in hand and trainers laced. Some are chasing personal bests. Some are walking with friends. Some are pushing buggies, volunteering at marshaling points or bringing along enthusiastic dogs. For half an hour or so, strangers become a community.
When I started running in February, I had no idea that Parkrun would become part of my weekend routine.
Since then, I’ve completed nine Parkruns. My first was at East Park in Hull and, despite exploring several others since, it’s still one of my favourites.
There’s something special about running around the lake on a Saturday morning. The ducks and geese are already going about their day, the volunteers are full of encouragement, and Hull feels like it’s only just waking up.
Since then, Parkrun has become a way of exploring places too.
I’ve run at Ancholme Valley Way in Brigg, where the route opens out beneath huge Lincolnshire skies. I’ve run through the beautiful grounds of Normanby Hall, around Baysgarth Park in Barton-upon-Humber, through Humber Bridge Country Park, and along Vermuyden Way in Epworth.
Each course has its own personality.
Some are flat and fast. Some have hills that make you question your life choices. Some wind through woodland. Others open out across fields and big skies. Yet wherever I’ve gone, the atmosphere has remained remarkably similar.
Everyone is welcome.
Running is often thought of as a solitary activity, but Parkrun reminds me that movement can be communal too.
There is something reassuring about standing among hundreds of people at the start line, knowing that every single person is there for a slightly different reason. Some are training for races. Some are returning after injury. Some are working on their fitness. Some are simply trying to get out of the house and start the weekend well.
Nobody asks what you do for work.
Nobody cares how fast you are.
Nobody expects you to look like a runner.
You simply show up.
I think that’s partly why running feels so mindful to me.
When I’m running, especially during Parkrun, my attention narrows. Instead of worrying about emails, deadlines or whatever else is rattling around in my head, I’m focused on my breathing, my feet and the path ahead.
It’s a moving meditation.
Not because my mind becomes completely quiet, but because my attention returns to the present moment.
I’ll notice birdsong.
I’ll notice sunlight through leaves.
I’ll spend three kilometres wondering what I’m going to have for breakfast afterwards.
Either way, I always finish feeling better than when I started.
Perhaps that’s why Parkrun has grown into such a beloved institution. It’s free, it’s inclusive and it’s powered almost entirely by volunteers. Every week, ordinary people give up part of their Saturday morning so that others can run, jog or walk 5K.
That’s no small thing.
Here in and around Hull, we’re lucky to have a number of Parkruns to choose from. Alongside East Park and Humber Bridge Country Park, runners can head to places such as Peter Pan Park, Beverley Westwood and further afield across Yorkshire and Lincolnshire. Each offers something slightly different, but all share the same spirit.
For me, Parkrun has become less about the running and more about the ritual.
The early alarm.
The nervous glance at the weather.
The gathering crowd.
The volunteers in hi-vis jackets.
The collective countdown.
The first few hundred metres where everyone settles into their own pace.
And then, for half an hour or so, hundreds of people moving in the same direction.
That feels surprisingly rare these days.
Nine Parkruns in, I still wouldn’t describe myself as a serious runner.
But I do know where I’d like to be on a Saturday morning.
Probably somewhere near a start line.
Possibly by a lake.