I’ve jumped on this bandwagon, and I have no regrets

It began one groggy Saturday morning, with a reluctant nine-year-old and his decidedly unfit mother (oh, that’s me). By 7.15am I was already in deep negotiations with my son, Rafi, who was certain that waking up early on the weekend was a violation of his fundamental human rights. But I was determined. We were getting dressed. We were not returning to bed. There would be no Netflix or Nintendo. We were doing Parkrun.

Things become popular for a reason. Imagine missing out on something wonderful because too many other people had already realised it was wonderful, too. Credit: ISTOCK

A confession: I resisted Parkrun for a long time. Not because I have a problem with running – in fact, some of the happiest periods of my life have been when I’ve run regularly. And not because I am now undeniably middle-aged and have knees and ankles to care for. Not even because of the early mornings (although honestly, I wasn’t initially thrilled about that part either).

No, my resistance stemmed from something else entirely: the fear of being seen to jump on a bandwagon. There is a rather silly human tendency to sneer at things once they become popular. Whether it’s a best-selling novel, a beloved TV show or an exercise fad, trends make things uncool as fast as they became cool in the first place.

There is an irrational embarrassment about trying or doing something for the first time when the crowd has already been there and done that. And Parkrun, in all its wholesome, clean-air, Lycra-clad glory has become one of those things people either love earnestly or eye roll about. But here is the not-so-secret reveal: I am not, nor have I ever been, cool. So, my previous resistance had not only been futile but inauthentic.

For the uninitiated, Parkrun is a global movement of free weekly five-kilometre runs. Organised entirely by volunteers, it promises automatic entry to a supportive community as well as the comfort and motivation of exercising in a group. You don’t have to be a runner to join: dog walkers, stroller pushers, perky first-date sprinters and determined shufflers are all welcome.

There is an irrational embarrassment about trying or doing something for the first time when the crowd has already been there and done that.

JAMILA RIZVI

That first morning, we arrived at our local park to see hundreds of people, all chatting animatedly, holding on to posts or fences, trees and park benches, swinging one leg back and forth to loosen their hip flexors. Rafi reached for my hand, a bundle of sleepiness and suspicion. Doing anything for the first time is nerve-racking, even when your mum has bribed you with the promise of Boost Juice.

The energy was undeniable. We made our way to the starting point, weaving through people wearing colourful T-shirts proclaiming that they’d reached a milestone of weekly Parkruns – 25 runs, 50, 100, 250. Even 500. My son is one of those kids who, once he sees something to collect, becomes fixated on accumulating a whole set. His eyes lit up and a goal for Parkrun T-shirts was quickly set.

Then something surprising happened. One of the volunteers asked if anyone was doing Parkrun for the first time. Rafi and I raised our hands diligently, but nervously and a little embarrassed. And then everyone applauded. All 400 or so of them, with genuine warmth and welcome.

We hadn’t even started running yet!

This cemented my Parkrun obsession. Yes, it’s nice to have people clap for you. But mostly because it reinforces the same message I repeat to my kid constantly (and try to convince myself of, too) – that winning is not what’s important; showing up is what matters. That consistency of effort is worth chasing and celebrating, not consistency of achievement.

And then we were off. First moving in a steady, dense pack, before stretching out into a thin snake of people, with Parkrun volunteers walking slowly at the rear. Strangers exchanged smiles and nods. Regulars offered us quiet words of encouragement. Rafi was so buoyed by the enthusiastic volunteers that he raced ahead in the final few seconds, determined to finish one place ahead of me.

Parkrun has since become more than a weekly exercise routine. It is something my son and I share every Saturday, no matter how busy things have been. It is space away from screens and distractions. It is a place where Rafi witnesses the importance of community, of showing up, of cheering for others, of recognising the value of effort over outcome.

It is so much more than just running. It’s about belonging.

And that’s the thing about bandwagons. Things become popular for a reason. Imagine missing out on something wonderful because too many other people had already realised it was wonderful, too. Reluctance to join in for fear of being unoriginal is self-defeating. Being cool is overrated and not all trends are shallow. Not all mass movements are for the mindless. Some are profoundly good.

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