RUNNING: AN UNEXPECTED BALM FOR THE SOUL - Helen McClements

When I’m running, something odd happens to me. I smile. I can’t help it. I don’t know whether it’s the sense of camaraderie, the endorphins, or just the fact that I’m not at home filling the washing machine. In fact, I don’t care. I just know it makes me happy.

I live in Northern Ireland, and have been doing the Ormeau Parkrun in Belfast for several years now. It has become the Saturday routine for my family, and we have a firm group of friends with children the same age. When they were younger, we would take turns to mind the kids. We’ve been bringing ours since they were babies, so they have grown up in this community. Kitted out in puddle suits and welly boots, they’d cheer us on from the playground or disappear into the thickets, climbing trees and gathering sticks, emerging, muddy and red-cheeked. Now, my ten-year-old can run the course herself in twenty-five minutes, while I chunter along behind. 

Parkrun is a free event that takes place in 26 parks in Northern Ireland. Up to 400 people can be found in Ormeau at nine-thirty every Saturday morning and it is run solely by volunteers.  Anyone can run, and everyone is encouraged to help out. At Ormeau, our oldest park runner is in her nineties. Grace took up running when a heart condition put an end to her mountain walking days. “It’s given me something to focus on,” she explained to me. When Grace finishes, she gets a deservedly vigorous round of applause. Recently she completed her 100th parkrun, which goes to show that one is never too old to win at anything. 

At school, I wouldn’t have won any prizes on sports day. In fact, I made it my business not to compete at all, because I was so embarrassed about my lack of sporting prowess. I lacked the co-ordination for tennis, the technique for swimming, and the flexibility for gymnastics. After enduring much humiliation, I accepted that I was more bookish than sporty and it wasn’t until university that I discovered sport again.

Having children resulted in another sporting hiatus, but it was the sheer simplicity of parkrun that drew me back to running. Five kilometres is a do-able distance, especially when you meet friends at the starting line.  Some run it in forty minutes, others do it in seventeen. The speed is irrelevant; it’s the turning up that counts. 

I used to run with my ipod, and a jaunty tune would give me a surge as I sprinted towards the finish; “Beautiful Future” by Primal Scream was always a dead-cert to make me speed before I crossed the line. But after both ipods went through the spin cycle of the washing machine, I decided that I’d run minus the music. Now the birds of Ormeau Park are my cheerleaders. I feel more in tune with other runners, and it allows me to have a bit of banter on the way round. The craic is always better when the weather is vile with wind and rain lashing our faces. “Aren’t we quare eejits to be out in this?” we say, knowing rightly we wouldn’t dream of being anything else.

I’ve also noticed an interesting phenomenon when I run. If I start entertaining negative thoughts, I slow down. This may work differently for others - perhaps if they get angry they may have a burst of energy or motivation to speed up. For me however, I know that it drains me. As I feel my legs become leaden I automatically feel more sluggish. I’ve learnt now to banish unhelpful thoughts, or if they pop into my head I say, as my yoga teacher has taught me, “Not now thank you.” It’s easier to do this too, when I hear the collective pounding of other feet around me.  

I have also won my very first prize for a sporting event. By running every week I have improved my speed, and in 2016 I was the first female on the Ormeau leader board.  I had won an award for simply turning up, doing what I loved and showing commitment. 

I have since made this my mantra. If something matters to you, just keep showing up. I try to put this into practice with my writing too. Some days I’m just not in the mood to write, or I don’t think I’ll produce anything, However, if I just show up at my desk, and sit for long enough, I know I’ll produce something I can work with.  I think my running has taught me that. 

Helen McClements is a mother, writer and teacher from Belfast. She can often be heard on BBC Radio where she shares her musings on “Thought for the Day.” In contrast to this, she writes a blog called www.Sourweeblog.com, where she unleashes her frustrations at juggling parenthood with work and the vagaries of life.