Carrying a torch

Parkrun number 463 on 22 October was my turn to write the run report. In time-honoured fashion, I’d prepared some of it in advance, mostly about the ghosts of Southampton Common and the old gallows because Halloween was fast approaching and I like to add a bit of history to my reports. The rest I would fill in later with any PBs, milestone runs and interesting incidents. Morning mist swirled across the flats as we headed towards the set-up team, and the words of Keats To Autumn ran through my head, Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness . . . When I learned them for my English Literature O Level, I was a Haley and had no idea I’d be a Keates one day. 

Hard as it is to drag my weary bones out into the cold in the early hours of Saturday morning, the eerie sight of a misty Common and the chance to watch the sky change from gold to blue makes it worthwhile. The set-up team was lost in the haze. It was difficult to tell who’d arrived and who was yet to make an appearance. Dogs were running around, so I guessed some of the dark shapes might have been intrepid early morning dog walkers rather than parkrun crew.

It looked like it would be a beautiful morning, once the mist evaporated and the sun came out. A few birds soared against a backdrop of contrails. Others perched in the big tree on the corner tweeting a warning or maybe a greeting. As we got closer, the human shapes came into focus. Kim was wearing a padded coat, so I guessed she wouldn’t be running, and I’d have a bit of company while I watched the start.

Usually, I don’t hang around for the runners to set off. It isn’t like a motorbike race where there are crashes and incidents in the first few yards, and when you’ve seen one parkrun start, you’ve seen them all, in my opinion. The finish line is where the action happens. My normal MO is to hang around chatting to the set-up crew and runners I know, then scarper as soon as they gather on the start line. When I’m writing the run report, I feel obliged to lurk and listen to the announcements, just in case I miss something I should be adding.

When Gus arrived, it was clear I’d made the right decision. Gus Mckechnie is a member of the Hamwic Harriers Running Club. Despite having cerebral palsy, he is frighteningly active. He runs, rows, climbs mountains, rides bikes, and is passionate about inspiring both able-bodied and disabled people to become more active and stay that way. Fundraising with teams and individually, he has helped to raise over £2 million for good causes, and in 2012, he was an Olympic torch bearer in recognition of his efforts. This morning, he’d brought his Olympic torch with him.

Parkrun isn’t only for runners. In fact, they have recently started an initiative to encourage lowly walkers like me to join in. It’s called parkwalk at parkun, and Gus had brought his torch to walk a relay with other Hamwic Harriers to show that walking parkrun can be fun. If I’d known about it earlier, I might have joined in. Then again, I had photos to take for the run report and twice around the Common in a crowd isn’t my style. 

Obviously, everyone wanted photos taken holding the torch, so they kept me busy. Commando decided he’d join the park walkers, and Kim and I found a place on the flats to stand and watch the proceedings. We even got a wave from the torchbearers as they came past.

Once the tail walkers had passed by, I had time on my hands. There wasn’t time for my usual wander around the Old Cemetery, but I thought I’d pay my respects to Florence and Walter Woodman before the first finishers appeared.

It was peaceful in the cemetery after the hustle and bustle of the parkrun start. A squirrel sat in the middle of the path as bold as brass. Of course, as soon as I raised my phone to take his photo, he dashed up the nearest tree. If you look closely, you can see his tail disappearing up the tree on the left.

Further on, a robin perched on a gravestone long enough for me to capture a picture. OK, it wasn’t the best picture, hardly Christmas card worthy, but at least he didn’t fly away before I snapped him. They say that robins are messengers from lost loved ones, and bring good luck, happiness and rebirth, so I was pleased to see him.

Florence and Walter’s grave looked glorious, surrounded by a sea of fallen leaves. I rustled my way through them to stand for a moment of quiet contemplation. Leaves fluttered around me and the beauty of the scene, the colours of the changing leaves and fuzz of dried grasses, took my breath away. What a marvellous place to spend eternity.

In autumn, Mother Nature paints the world in shades of green, gold, and copper as she prepares the trees for winter. The leaves change colour, lose moisture and fall, releasing nutrients into the soil to sustain the trees through the harshness of winter and give them strength to make new leaves in spring. It’s the circle of life, and I suppose the graves are part of it too. The occupants may be long gone, but like the fallen leaves, they have become part of the trees and, each spring, they are reborn.

There was no time to linger. As I walked back towards the cemetery gate, another robin hopped onto the path. He didn’t linger either. Was he the same robin I’d seen earlier? Perhaps he was a messenger? If he was, he didn’t speak to me. Still, I made it back in time to see the torchbearers cross the finish line, and after a quick drink, it was time to go home, scan through the lists of PBs and milestones and finish my parkrun report.

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