The most viral thing I've ever posted

And how it might just be a sign that parkrun can save the world. Seriously, hear me out...

Last weekend, after more than 20 years in journalism and “digital content”, I posted one of the most viral things I’ve ever shared on social media.

Was it a heartfelt and revealing memoir-style essay that resonated with millions of women just like me? No.

Was it a meticulously-researched, groundbreaking article that could transform the world as we know it and ultimately make me extremely rich and famous, but in a cool, anonymous, highly-respected way? Sadly not.

OK, so was it just a cute picture of my kids on World Book Day? No, not even!

In fact, it was a photo of a Cadbury’s Creme Egg, a mini Twirl, and some mints and other bits, that were given to me when I checked into Travelodge Stafford Central last Friday. I posted it in a Facebook group called “parkrun tourism” and it’s racked up almost 1200 likes and counting. Here it is.

But… why so much engagement? And, more importantly, how do we extrapolate this until it has SAVED THE WORLD?

OK, I’ll explain. So, last weekend, I finally ticked off a niche bucket list item and ran the Isabel Trail parkrun in Stafford. This parkrun is one of the top five fastest in the country (it’s a straightforward out-and-back, pancake flat), but that’s not why I went. I went because Isabel is my name.

I said on social media that if people had grown up not being able to get a pencil case with their name on they might understand the appeal, but I’m not even sure that’s true. You have to grow up not being able to get a pencil case with your name on and be really obsessive about parkrun to understand why you might travel for three hours and spend money on a hotel in a fairly obscure location just to go to a free running event when there are dozens within half an hour of your front door. I feel like my lovely running friend Sinead might be one of the only people I know who could make both of these claims, but alas there is no Sinead Trail for her to venture to.

(Btw, I know Isabel isn’t a particularly unusual name now, but I didn’t meet another one until I was in my twenties, plus they almost always spell it wrong)

Some facts:

Most people in the UK don’t run at all (in fact, some new stats from SportsShoes.com show that 48% of the population have never ever been for a run).

Of the people who run, a decent chunk have done a few parkruns (there are over 10 million people registered worldwide, but a lot of them have only run once, or never).

Of those who do attend parkrun regularly — about 350,000 per week, globally — it’s fair to say they mostly just do their local one. However, within this big group of regular parkrun people there is a large subset who identify as parkrun tourists and/or parkrun fanatics who obsessively “collect” parkruns that start with certain letters or tick certain boxes. There is an (unofficial!) app called 5K featuring lots of these challenges.

I recently lost my claim to a G but gained an extra A as the parkrun formerly known as Greenwich, despite not really being in Greenwich, has finally changed its name to Avery Hill. Such a cocktail of emotions about this.

As you can see from my mediocre progress, I am a mere amateur at this game. I didn’t do my first parkrun until 2021, and this weekend’s will be my 109th; around half of these have been at my wonderful home parkrun, Catford.

I have friends who’ve run more than 300 and I’m irrationally jealous that I didn’t get into it sooner. Most of the people I know who’ve run a veritable shit-ton of parkruns are not particularly spectacular runners, and I think that’s the key. Sure, it’s fun to crush your PB, but there are other satisfying things you can get out of parkrun too that, perhaps, more competitive running experiences can lack. I wish more people knew about this, as there are some very inactive nerds out there who could improve their health and fitness while getting thrills from such petty completism.

The Isabel Trail is a popular tourist destination, not only with people called Isabel but with anyone who’s looking to tick off the letter “i” for their alphabet challenge, as it’s hard to come by (only six in the UK, I think, and some of them are in the country’s extremities, like Ipswich and Inverness, whereas Stafford is slap bang in the middle).

And this is what’s great about parkrun geekery: on your box-ticking quest for nerdy stats, it takes you to places you’ve never been.

What happened to me in Stafford is happening all over the country, all the time, via parkrun and other running groups and communities. Running brings people together and can change communities. A popular parkrun can help towns thrive on a Saturday morning. Coffee shops in parks that would otherwise only do business with dog walkers and football mums on a Saturday now have dozens, perhaps even hundreds, of sweaty people queuing up, fiddling with their Strava caption while they await their flat white, even when it’s pissing it down. Town centres do well too: when I did the incredibly beautiful Old Railway Trail parkrun in Llangollen, North Wales, in half term a few weeks ago, I went for a mooch around afterwards, bought a coffee and a pastry from a random cafe alongside several groups of fellow parkrunners, and then spent £30 in a tourist shop afterwards on some bits for the family.

But it’s not just about the money: people connect, and reconnect, too. I didn’t go to the Isabel Trail alone; I went with my best friend Nicky, who I rarely go more than a couple of hours (minutes?) without speaking to on WhatsApp but who I haven’t actually been away with for more than 10 years. That was special.

I wish I was a little bit taller

We also met up with my cousin Marcus and his wife (calling Jenny “his wife” feels a bit impersonal when they have been together since I was a small child, so let’s just call her my cousin too). I have a big family with first cousins spanning an almost 40 year age range and some quite extreme corners of the country and world, so we don’t get together that much. And yet, in the last couple of years, I’ve done four parkruns with Marcus in various locations. Marcus and Jenny are, in my opinion, living the middle-aged dream. Their sons are in their twenties, so their weekends are no longer consumed by Laser Quest drop-off arrangements. Instead, they often travel around ticking off parkruns while enjoying meeting up with friends and seeing different parts of the country and world.

I had never been to Stafford before, but it was pretty nice. On the Friday night, Nicky and I had dinner at a bustling place called The Post House, and the service was better than in any wanky London small plates restaurant I’ve been to recently. On Saturday morning after parkrun, we all went for breakfast at a ludicrously quaint cafe called The Soup Kitchen, and I devoured some really nice pancakes. We had a wander around the town too, where there was a market on, which featured some alpacas. I’m sure there are lots of other nice cafes in nice towns that one day I might go to because of parkrun, but I’m going to manage expectations and say that they might not all have alpacas.

See

Mainly thanks to work, I have stayed in a few fancy hotels in my time where I have enjoyed swanning around, playing with the lighting and drinking the minibar dry. Truthfully, though, all I really need to be happy is a bed, a shower and a kettle so, if I’m booking, I would always pick a Travelodge or Premier Inn over anything more boujee or boutique and bring along my own vibe, for free. Fanciness just isn’t important to me and if I’ve got to 44 without becoming fancy, I think that’s probably me done (I would add that I enjoy staying in fancy hotels if other people are paying). This means my expectations are pretty low and I’m happy for the keycard for my 60 quid room to be handed over with a resentful grunt and no eye contact.

But this was not the case in Stafford. The team at Stafford Central Travelodge, which is located on a bog-standard retail park just outside the town centre, went above and beyond. They have clearly clocked that these weird, fanatical parkrunners are regularly rocking up on a Friday night for weird, obsessive reasons, and instead of just enjoying the slight uptick in bookings, they have decided to make them feel great about it, proving that “surprise and delight” customer service is possible at every price point.

When Nicky and I turned up after a delayed train journey from London (for some of it we were seated next to two lads drinking Stella who muttered “Oh Christ” when they overheard our intense conversations about midlife relationships), we spotted that there was a parkrun-themed cardboard Instagram frame selfie thingy propped up in the foyer, and the warm, chatty receptionist heard us mention it and promptly handed over the “parkrun recovery kits”. We gushed about their simple brilliance and I immediately whacked the pic on the Facebook group.

By the next morning when we checked out, post-parkrun, post-shower and post-having-guzzled-the-recovery-kit, the post had already racked up over 1000 likes plus comments like “Wow! What a lovely idea!” along with people tagging their parkrun pals and saying “We should stay here!”.

I noticed that the manager was at the desk this time, so I decided to show him (I’m annoying like that). He explained that he’d taken over the hotel last year and, while it was awaiting a refurb, he’d decided to try and perk it up a bit. He said he might get in trouble with Travelodge HQ (for delighting customers?), but that he figured it was better to do something and get told off than not bother.

If Travelodge HQ are reading this, please don’t tell him off: in fact, give him a payrise, or at least a Creme Egg to call his own, and maybe throw some money at parkrun for a proper partnership? Put these cute kits in all your hotels! Give parkrunners a discount! Shout about how that midday checkout time is the stuff of dreams for anyone who needs time to run, eat and shower! (I’ll invoice you later for the marketing consultancy)

The only time the hashtag #ivedoneisabel hasn’t filled me with fear

So anyway, while I was running the Isabel Trail — in what turned out to be ideal running weather, adding to the good vibes — I was having deranged thoughts about all this. Running, and parkrun specifically, can change the world! Look how it brings people together! Look how nice all the volunteers are! Social media is a pit; how often do you see a thread, on Facebook of all places, with over 1000 likes and 100 comments, where every single one is positive and joyful? How often do you go to a budget hotel and come away thinking it was thoughtful, warm, welcoming, personal? How often do you go to an organised event that goes completely smoothly week after week (Swiftie 5K take note) and yet nobody is getting paid? How often, for that matter, do you go to Stafford? What is it about parkrun in particular that captures all this so well? Is it because it’s a bit like a cult but without any actual God involved, thank God? Is parkrun a religion? If there were more parkruns in America, would they be less fucked-up as a nation? WHAT IF DONALD TRUMP WENT TO PARKRUN?

Cousin Marcus is good at taking running photos too

In the cold light of day, my endorphins long since drained down the plughole along with the Travelodge hair and body wash that they screw into the wall, I can’t quite make sense of all these disparate thoughts about HOW PARKRUN CAN SAVE THE WORLD and I think it’s probably more like HOW COMMUNITY IN GENERAL AND PEOPLE BEING A BIT MORE THOUGHTFUL THAN USUAL CAN SAVE THE WORLD. I know there is something magic here for sure that we should take and spread. Let me know if you can help me crack it.

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