A parkrun, a phone call, and three little words
I’m running for a little bit longer, I knew this week it was time to literally rip the plaster off and get on with it, time to push the boundaries a bit, test the water and see if I could trust my body again. I’ve spent far too long being cross with my body for letting me down, it was about time I stopped being cross and give it a chance to make it up to me!
So finally, I broke the running-for-an-hour barrier, it didn’t happen straight away, of course it didn’t. Isn’t it funny how much we convince ourselves that doing anything but going for a run is the right thing to do, and it’s usually because underneath it all we’re just scared.
The first time I’d planned to run for longer, I bottled it, told myself my husband needed my company on his walk instead of me going for a run. Stupid really, because he doesn’t like company, especially the company of someone who knew straight away that she should have just gone for the run!
Anyway, a few days later, I tried again and success! No pain, no stiffness in my ankle, no sense of bracing myself for something to go wrong, just that unfamiliar but welcome feeling of learning to trust my body again so I can continue to rebuild.
On Saturday, I went to a parkrun, the second in a row and just to say, this is very unusual for me. I’d usually scoff at getting out of bed early for a 5km run, but after 25 years of running, this is the first time I’ve been a runner and not belonged to a running club
Not being part of a club has been harder than I expected, I’ve missed the familiar faces, and the quiet reassurance of knowing where I fit into it all.
Looking back, it’s no surprise to me, or to my husband, that I needed to rediscover a sense of purpose on a weekend, to feel like I was going somewhere, even if it was only ten miles down the road to a parkrun. I’d missed the pre- and post-run rituals more than I realised.
And it was wonderful.
Standing there, surrounded by people warming up in their own ways, I felt a sense of belonging that I truly had underestimated just how much I’d missed. And not because I ran particularly well, or fast, or impressively but because I was there, in amongst the running chatter, the comforting rhythm of strangers’ footfall all around me, the two-way banter of “well done and thank you marshal”. It was just what I needed.
On the way home, I phoned my husband, it’s part of the ritual, for as long as I can remember genuinely, for about 25 years, he’s always asked the same question after a race.
“Did you win?”
And every time he asked me, I would cringe, it always felt unnecessary. In the end, I know I got so fed up with it that I would cut him short, talk over him before he got his last word out, sometimes I’m sure, I wouldn’t have acknowledged his question.
But this time, when he asked me if I’d won, an unexpected wave of emotion washed over me, tears sprung to my eyes and I was unable to reply. How I’d missed these three little words, their importance stopping me in my tracks as they acknowledged that I was back being part of something that mattered to me.
And feeling like I belonged again.
I’ve been thinking a lot about belonging this week, a friend told me she was considering entering a 10km race as she’s never done one before. What struck me wasn’t her fitness or readiness to complete the race, I knew she’d be amazing! But it was how quickly the unwritten rules of turning up to a race on your own became barriers for her to enter. Where do I stand? What do I wear? What if I don’t know anyone?
Again, so often, it’s not the physical challenge that stops people doing things, sometimes it’s knowing how to belong and how to fit in.
There’s also been another quiet, but meaningful shift in how women’s sense of belonging in open spaces is being recognised, this is something I’ve long cared about and advocated for.
Last week, Jess Asato (Labour MP for Lowestoft) opened a parliamentary debate on Women’s Safety while Walking, Wheeling, Cycling and Running. I shared my experiences of women’s safety while running, and it was encouraging to see Jess and other MPs bring together grassroots evidence with academic research.
When everyday experiences are recognised as evidence, rather than dismissed as anecdotal, responsibility begins to shift away from individual women and towards systems, design and culture. It’s a start.
I’ve also starting coaching the ABP run club in Southampton this week, this is something I’ve been doing this since 2018 (Photo on the left is 2018 - on the right 2026)
Heading back into that space reminded me how much of my life has been shaped by showing up consistently, even when everything else feels uncertain. And I love this small shift of how many more women are attending this group now in comparison to 2018.
On a more personal note, it’s been a month since RunVerity, my physical run club has closed down after 11 years. I’m still working out what that means for me on many levels and when I’m ready, I’ll share the journey, but right now, writing has become the place where I’m making sense of it all.
Which leads me nicely to what’s going to happen going forward. I’ll be writing more about the things that matter to me; inclusion, safety (physical and psychological), confidence, belonging, and the quieter barriers that shape who feels able to show up, but more importantly, who continues to show up. They won’t always be big essays, sometimes just as notes, my observations and my ways of processing and joining in the conversations that are already happening, mainly about running.
I’ve dabbled with putting out paid content, however, I’ve realised that working to a schedule during this transitional phase doesn’t work for me. Writing has always been how I make sense of things, and I’m not good at rushing this.
What I write here will remain free to read, if you choose to support my work, I’m genuinely grateful as it allows me to write with care rather than urgency. Either way, I’m glad you’re here.
More soon, but for now, this felt like a good place to pause and gather a few threads.