I don’t know if you’ve heard, but…
…’my’ parkrun is being shut down by the local council.
Many a column inch and screen pixel have been devoted
to Stoke Gifford
Parish Council’s decision to close down
Little Stoke parkrun. Well, technically they’ve not
“closed it down”: but, by requiring that runners pay for use of the park, they
all but have, as it goes against parkrun’s ethos and strategy. parkruns are
free, timed 5k runs that take place across the UK (and beyond) at 9:00 every
Saturday morning. There are almost
four-hundred events: Stoke Gifford Parish Council have
been trailblazers by being the first to take this step.
Technically, Little
Stoke parkrun isn’t my local parkrun, either. I’m one of the outsiders
whose council tax ends up in different coffers: in my case North Somerset’s, so
the good people of Stoke Gifford Parish Council would presumably rather I wore
out the Ashton Court tarmac, alongside around four-hundred others who run Ashton
Court parkrun. And on four
occasions I have: it’s an unusual
course, where you spend the first half struggling uphill
before turning round and bombing it downhill. Given I spend the rest of the
week going up and down hills in Portishead, cometh parkrunday I prefer an
easier, flatter course to check where I’m at with my speed and look to improve
it: and three (almost four) laps of
Little Stoke offer just that. Which is why my Little Stoke
PB is 18’36” and my Ashton Court PB is 19’57”. More importantly, over the course of 54 Little Stoke parkruns I have made many new friends, shared many tales of running and life, continuing those conversations during the week over social media... proof that parkrun is a key component of the modern form of running in this part-physical, part-digital world we inhabit.
This post isn’t about the rights and wrongs of the
council’s decision: by now you’ve probably heard all the facts and don’t need
me to cover them again. If you haven’t, you can find them here - and make up your own mind:
The letter from Stoke Gifford Parish Council to local residents
(23/03/2016):
The Little Stoke parkrun team’s responses (30/03/2016):
Little Stoke parkrun and parkrun HQ’s responses to the Parish Council’s
decision (12/04/2016):
http://www.parkrun.org.uk/news/2016/04/12/parkrun-reaction-to-stoke-gifford-parish-council-decision/
Little Stoke parkrun’s statement as to why it’s cancelling the April 16
event (the council has left the negotiation window open until May 28, so events
could continue until then):
These statements highlight the dignity and
constructive approach displayed throughout the process by all associated with
parkrun. In combination with the media coverage, they also highlight that, in
spite of having commented on the fact that only a minority of the thousands of
signatories to the petition
to keep Little Stoke parkrun open were local residents, Stoke
Gifford Parish Council failed to prepare a PR strategy and draft adequate,
factual answers to the questions that have followed. Granted, they don’t have
the expertise of the central parkrun machine: but they have displayed a naivety
surprising even for a local council. They’ve not even calculated an initial estimate
of how much they believe parkrun should contribute, which you’d think would be
a fairly key element in any negotiation. Not that any such negotiations can
take place, for the benefit of the broader parkrun community: if we pay at
Little Stoke, many fellow parkrunners will soon find themselves in a similar
situation. Still: if you’re going to ask for money, come up with a figure, eh?
But, as I said, it’s not the specific of this instance
that have drawn me to the keyboard on this occasion. The facts are out there:
make up your own mind. What I wanted to address is a question that has been
asked by the Council as well as by many others: why should a running event be
free, when local football, rugby etc. clubs foot a bill?
My answer is two-fold. The first half is short and is
one you’ll have heard already:
Little Stoke parkrunners run around a public section
of the park and use public toilets. This requires no additional expense, such
as the maintenance of a field or of astroturf pitches. Make what you will of
the council’s comments about the wear of the tarmac: personally, I’m not sure
we do any damage. And would I expect my council to levy a charge on Stoke
Gifford residents for walking up and down the Portishead seafront on a sunny
day? No. There is freedom of movement across the EU and that applies to the
South Gloucestershire / Bristol / North Somerset borders, too.
As for the second bit…
I’m going to address purely because I’ve not come
across this perspective on any of the other posts and articles I’ve read. No
point weighing in by simply reiterating what’s already been said. This came to
me during a run this morning, as many thoughts do: a run through woods and rocks
along the estuary edge. Hopefully this particular thought makes more sense than
others…
. . .
You’ll have heard many runners wax lyrical about the health
benefits of running. Over the past few months, you may also have come across
news coverage about the “unrelenting march” of obesity and diabetes. Which makes
running’s benefits all the more precious. But don’t believe us. Here’s what Dame
Sally Davies, Chief Medical Officer for England, had to say:
“As Chief
Medical Officer I endorse parkrun as a valuable and innovative vehicle for
promoting physical activity. It is fun, engaging, and provides an environment
to meet people and benefit your health. I regularly tell my friends and
colleagues about parkrun, and so should all of you – we must spread the word!”
(Indeed, she a lot more to say. You can read all the
praise she heaps on parkrun here.)
But some will still say: “OK, I get it: running is
good for your health. But what I still don’t get is – how’s that different
from, say, football, cricket or tennis? Why should runners not pay when clubs
do?”
A reasonable question. Hopefully, you’ll find this to
be a reasonable answer.
I mentioned football, cricket and tennis, but could
have chosen any sports. I chose the three I played the most in my pre-children
days. I was a keen but bad footballer, least until I donned the gloves, with
which I enjoyed moderate success. I was a keen but atrocious cricketer, in
spite of a knock of 53 for Portishead III and figures of 4-19 for Portishead IV:
growing up in Italy and not joining a cricket club till the age of 34 not
helpful factors, I trust you’ll agree. And I was a keen and good tennis player,
Portishead Lawn Tennis Club’s 2008 Men’s Singles Champion and 2008 and 2009
Mens’ Doubles Champion. Only ever runner-up in the Mixed, sadly. A topic that
may resurface when I meet up with my old Mixed partner in a couple of days’
time, unless I can focus on talking running and she can focus on her current
tennis success…
Now, why do I refer to my “pre-children days”?
Because parenthood changes us forever. It changes what
we prioritise, how much time we have on our hands, how we spend our money…
Marriage starts the process, but it’s kids who drive it to completion.
So, during the first few years of this millennium I’d
play tennis three times a week, four during League season. Following a series
of only loosely connected events I moved to Portishead during the dying days of
1999, not knowing anyone here: and it was sport that changed that. With my
epileptic brain behaving, I was able to drive until 2002: after that, once I’d
suffered my first seizure in a decade and more followed, I had to rely on lifts
to and fro the tennis club. Where my abilities were exaggerated by a relatively
low standard, truth be told. The homemade cakes on Saturday afternoon were
phenomenal: the quality of the play less so. I was a good player, but not that
good. And I could cover the ground faster than most, without actually being
that fit. It’s all relative, is fitness…
…Big’Un was born in May 2007, Littl’Un followed in
June 2009. By that stage I wasn’t driving anymore: and young kids make it hard
to commit to being at a certain place for a lift, to be home by a certain time…
because fixed schedules go out of the window. So I played less and less, caught
in a vicious circle of declining fitness, form, likelihood of winning,
enjoyment… I stayed home more and more, caught in an equally vicious circle of
doing little, finishing the food on my kids’ plates (once they’d grown teeth),
putting on weight…
Almost exactly four years ago, on April 18, 2012, I laced
up for the first time. Back then I hated running with a passion, hence my
blog being called “I Can’t Stand Running”. However, because I needed something
I could do when it suited, where it suited and for however long it suited, I
gave running a go. Suited me, my work life and, critically, my young family. I
would have gone back to cycling, but for two seizures whilst on my bike meaning
my wife had duly and rightly banned me. So, six months after undergoing brain
surgery (I weighed in at a whisker under 100kg for the anaesthetic), options
were limited… and out I went. I ran a minute, then walked a minute, and did
that a total ten times. Because, with running, no matter what shape you’re in, you’re
in good enough shape to start.
I didn’t run my first parkrun until December
21, 2013. I’d run two marathons and an Ultra by then! I’d not intentionally
avoided parkrun: on the contrary, I’d heard great things about it, its
community and the training value of 5ks for long-distance runners, and I would
have loved to have broken my duck months before. But Big’Un (Roberto) had
swimming lessons on Saturday mornings, so I had to stay home with Littl’Un
(Daniel). The freedom of running meant I could get in my own 5k before Karen
and he set off, but the responsibilities of parenthood meant I couldn’t join
the community. Not till Roberto stopped taking swimming lessons, anyway –
without much to show for them, either…
But that was me. And I don’t mind running alone. I
love running with others and experience that “sense of community” repeatedly
referenced this week. But I will go out and run 40 miles on my own, too, the
way that at the start of my running days I’d go and run/walk (a minute of each,
ten times). Not everybody will. Many need that sense of community, to be part
of something bigger than just going out and running on your own. And that
community is all-embracing: it doesn’t matter how good you are. All that
matters is that you want to get better.
And that,
friends and councillors, is why running is different.
When I was 36 and looking to improve my fitness, I
couldn’t have turned up at the local football club. Where, if you’re not good
enough, you don’t play: you’d just be a liability for your team-mates, taking
the place of more deserving players. It doesn’t happen.
Nor could I have gone to my old cricket club. I might
have scraped into a Sunday friendly team, who knows. But I wouldn’t have got in
any real exercise: I’d have just stood virtually still in the field and hung
around very little in the middle. Factor in the post-match drinks and,
fitness-wise, I’d have been worse off.
Tennis? Maybe. At least it can be a solo effort. But
it would have taken me weeks to find my touch again, and months to lose some
weight – probably nowhere near as much as I needed to. Weeks and months during
which I’d have been unable to win as many matches as I used to. Would I have
stuck with this new state of things? Probably not. Besides, the nature of
Portishead L.T.C. and number of available courts meant I only really got the
chance to play doubles there. Good for fitness, but not great.
But running…
…running respects those looking to make a change in
their lives. It lets them do as much or as little as they want or can.
parkrunners, in particular, are boundlessly supportive of fellow runners’
efforts. Running can be mean (ask anyone twenty miles into a marathon), but
running is always fair (ask anyone sixpointtwo miles later).
. . .
Time is precious. Time spent running is an investment.
Just like buying kit is a financial investment, although you can give it a go
on old trainers, shorts and (whisper it quietly) a cotton t-shirt. As with any
investment, we make it because we expect a return. And running delivers return
on investment (‘ROI’) faster than most sports: it’s the nature of cardio
exercise. In doing so, it engenders a virtuous circle: you run, you lose
weight, you run faster, you feel better about running…
…you run more, you feel better…
…and, in the process, you pay more attention to nutrition,
so as to not undo your own good work. Before you know it, you’re hooked on
endorphins rather than crisps: and things only get better from there!
That’s why running is different from other sports.
That is why councils have a moral obligation towards their residents to enable
running: because, with every mile and every smile, they are taking preventive
care of themselves and reducing the risk of becoming a burden on overstretched
resources. People are living longer: the strain on healthcare resources is
greater than ever, with a smaller percentage of the population working to pay
for them. I doubt parkruns are truly damaging the Little Stoke park tarmac: I
do believe that many of those runners won’t lace up and go running on their
own, thus becoming more likely to become burdens on our healthcare system.
Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow: but running, or lack of, is a long-term
thing.
And that, Stoke Gifford Parish Council, is why I
believe you are being bad stewards of your funds. There are no winners and
losers at parkrun. There aren’t those not good enough to get picked who have to
watch from the sidelines, maybe kids who are then mocked at school and
potentially put off sport for a long time. Nobody spends half the afternoon
running from fine leg to fine leg only to come into bat at eight, face one ball
and head back to the pavilion. I say this with nothing but love for football
and cricket: I view instilling a love for participating in sports as one of my
responsibilities as a parent, because I view sports as a great teacher, in
victory and even more so in defeat. But I won’t push my children into anything,
lest it backfires: they’ve tried a few, they’ll try some more, hopefully they’ll
find one they love so that they can engage with its challenges as well as
team-mates and opponents.
Here’s hoping we’ll still be parkrunning in Little Stoke park come June. I once ran Little Stoke parkrun with my children and I once ran it with my Dad. You can take my parkrun away from me, Stoke Gifford Parish Council: but those are memories even you can’t touch. And, given my kids were six and four (I think… the pain of running with Littl’Un on my shoulders has somewhat blurred the memory!) when I ran with them, and Dad was 70 when I ran with him…
Here’s hoping we’ll still be parkrunning in Little Stoke park come June. I once ran Little Stoke parkrun with my children and I once ran it with my Dad. You can take my parkrun away from me, Stoke Gifford Parish Council: but those are memories even you can’t touch. And, given my kids were six and four (I think… the pain of running with Littl’Un on my shoulders has somewhat blurred the memory!) when I ran with them, and Dad was 70 when I ran with him…
…there aren’t many sports that would have enabled
that.
If not in Little Stoke, I’ll be parkrunning elsewhere.
Or running up and down some other road. Stoke Gifford Parish Council is not
putting my fitness at risk, much as I do hope to keep running there because my
marathon running has benefitted immensely from doing so (after last
week’s post, 3:01’31”, in case you’re wondering). But it is jeopardising
some of its own residents’ fitness, both those who won’t carry on running and
those who, worse still, will never start. How many of the “Couch to 5k” (an
official NHS
program) runners whose crowning 5k run has been Little Stoke parkrun may
not embark on that journey – if only because its absence means nobody organises
a local one in the first place?
I don’t know. Nobody knows. But let’s not have to find
out.
Oh, and obviously (but just in case)…
…when talking about running’s right to be free I’m
talking about initiatives like parkrun, where nobody makes a profit and
disruption is minimal. Because we don’t monopolise the park, nor do we require
road closures or medical staff as is the case with commercial events. I love
parkrun, but that’s not to say I don’t expect to pay for any race. Although I
do wish I could manage some Social Ultra
runs: they’re a bit like parkrun, just with more scope to eat.
. . .
On a final note, my heartfelt congratulations and
thanks to the entire Little Stoke parkrun team for the dignity they’ve shown
during this process, throughout which they have sought to be nothing but constructive. And to all the volunteers whose time is worth so, so much more than tarmac. Here’s hoping their steadfast refusal to mount an adversarial campaign will
prove successful in the end.
Happy running, everyone! Oh, and councillors… one last
thing…
…have you looked into seeing if anyone fancies paying
for a concession to sell us hot drinks and snacks after our weekly parkrun? It’s
a smart way of paying for at least some of the tarmac: works at Pomphrey,
Burnham… the football club (who presumably pay for use of the facilities) makes
a few quid out of it at Chipping Sodbury… Ashton Court has its café, obviously…
Indeed, at all other local parkruns somebody’s selling something!
And everybody’s winning. Not just every single runner.
Because it’s not just about parkrunning. It never is.
(Still unsure? Then watch this: http://loveparkrun.com.)
(Still unsure? Then watch this: http://loveparkrun.com.)
