Generation Z: The parkrunners searching for alphabet gold
Alphabeteer challenge sees parkrun lovers travel the globe
What do Ziegelwiese in Germany and Zandvlei in South Africa have in common?
The answer is not very much, except that they are two of just 11 parkruns spread around the world.
As such, for a section of the parkrun community, they equate to a pot of gold at the end of the running rainbow.
Today, weāre going to look at why the letter āZā has become an obsession that persuades runners to travel the world in search of parks they might otherwise have never heard of.
What is parkrun - and why the love of Zzzzās?
For those of you who have been living under a rock, parkrun is a free 5km run (or walk - or crawl if you really want), that takes place every Saturday morning.
It all started in Bushy park in Teddington, when 13 friends decided to go for a run together back in October 2004.
Originally called the Bushy Park Time Trial - back in the days when, presumably, the time runners finished in mattered - it grew into a network of events.
It morphed into the UK Time Trials, and in 2008 became parkrun - with a small āpā. Because, why not.
Since then the popularity of the event has grown hugely, spreading not only across the UK but the world.
Championing inclusivity, everyone is welcome to attend runs with a junior version introduced on Sunday mornings.
In all, parkrun can be found in more than 2,000 locations in 22 countries across six continents.
As the number of events grew, participants started to invent a variety of weird and wonderful challenges. These include goals like joining the Fibonacci Club by taking part in a parkrun event number that is part of the Fibonacci sequence, or completing the Stopwatch Bingo challenge by collecting a series of parkrun times covering every second from 00 to 59.
And so to the importance of āZā.
One particularly popular parkrun challenge is the Alphabeteer, which requires people to run at parkrun locations starting with every letter of the alphabet.
At least, that is, every letter except āXā which is conspicuous by its absence as there isnāt a single parkrun in the world beginning in that lonely letter.
And so, parkrunners head off enthusiastically every week to tick off their Bushyās or Banburyās, and to search for rarer letters at places like Victoria Dock and Jersey.
But there is no letter rarer in the parkrun alphabet (thatās the one that doesnāt include āXā) than the much-coveted āZā.
Catching up on your Zās:
The first thing to note about getting hold of a āZā parkrun is that there are none in the UK, meaning those Brits in need of the letter had better get travelling.
The 11 existing āZā parkruns can be found in the aforementioned Zandvlei and Ziegelwiese, as well as Zillmere in Australia and Zuiderpark near The Hague in Holland.
Then there are seven in Poland: Zalew, Zemborzycki, Zalew Zyrardowski, Zemek v Malborku, Zatyumensky, Zelenograd, Zhukovsky and Zielona Gora.
Also on Running Tales:
How 'Mr Slow Easy Comfortable' runs slower and lifts weights to go faster
Start with āstupidā and end in successā¦ What does it take to complete a 145-mile race?
Bill McKim: The Olympic runner who needed a push to go to the Games
For the record, Ziegelwiese and Zandvlei really couldnāt be more different.
The former is a park in the central German city of Halle. Lucky parkrun tourists can enjoy the cityās 16th-century church - including a Gothic bell tower - and the HƤndel-Haus, the old home of the famed baroque composer.
The latter parkrun can be found in Cape Town. Starting at the False Bay Rendezvous, on the shore of Zandvlei Nature Reserve, there isnāt a baroque building in sight.
But this, of course, is part of the joy of parkrun tourism. Using the excuse of gathering letters to see different parts of the world is a way of life for many of these runners.
In an article for North West Bylines, Eileen Jones, the author of āp is for parkrun: a journey from A to Z,ā said challenges such as the Alphabeteer are a vital part of what parkrun so popular.
A former fell-runner who once won a teapot in the 33-mile Haworth Hobble, Eileen is one of those increasingly common parkrun lovers who have completed courses beginning with every letter of the alphabet - saving, of course, the dreaded āXā.
Her description of the benefits of parkrun is compelling: āAlong with helping people be fitter and healthier, improving lives, saving lives, alleviating loneliness, creating communities and ā of course ā creating a regular platform for actual athletes to measure their times and improvements, parkrun has provided a new kind of focus for those whose times are no longer improving, and for the joggers and the walkers who might be contentedly near the back.
āThe challenges, many of them unofficial and created by parkrunners themselves, provide motivation to keep on turning up, motivation to try different courses, motivation to mix with other people.ā
But even Eileenās commitment to alphabetical success is nothing compared to Cass Castleton, who has completed the challenge six times.
Some might say he must be an āXā short of an alphabet.
Zās dead baby, Zās dead:
All this talk of parkrun challenges and the Alphabeteer hasnāt come out-of-the-blue. Michelle and I spent this last weekend in Holland, getting our own āāZā.
And while we may not be in the same category as the likes of Cass Castleton, our parkrun experience at Zuiderpark had more than an element of the weird and wonderful about it.
Ultimately, as Bruce Willisā Butch Collidge character in Pulp Fiction famously declared, āZedās dead, babyā.
But it so nearly wasnāt the case, as you can tell from my review of the dayās activitiesā¦
Z is for zzzzās or sleeping as they are more commonly known.
But there werenāt many of those as we were woken bright and early to take on Zuiderpark parkrun and get our own special Z.
And when we say early, we mean 6am. Or 5am if youāre still in the old country š®
Apparently that was too early for the Metro into central Amsterdam to be running, as we suffered our first blockade on the road to parkrun success.
A quick shuffle back to the hotel, a ā¬43 taxi š and we were back on track and on to the āsprinterā train to Den Haag.
Sadly though, something must have been lost in translation as the sprinter train quickly (slowly?) became the ātailwalker on a steady day, taking photos on the way round and chatting with its matesā train.
In all, it took an agonising one hour and 40 minutes to do the advertised 50 minute journey, leaving us just 10 minutes to get to the start line š£
That blockade was turning into a full on exclusion zone.
Finally, we got a bit of luck as we managed to jump on a tram to the park, although the 14 minute journey there took us well past parkrunās 9am start time!
The generous run director allowed us to start late, and the āraceā (for once, parkrun was a race!!) was on.
The Lewisā vs the tailwalkers. Playing the greatest game of catch-up since Manchester City chased down Arsenal in last seasonās Premiership.
And the tailwalkers werenāt bottling it Gunners style either!
Racing round the pretty park brought out the best in speedy Shell and by the end of the first loop we were just two minutes behind them (after starting 20 minutes late ā°).
With about half-a-mile left the dogs chased down the rabbit, the road blockage disappeared faster than Nadine Dorriesā Parliamentary majority and we were heading to Z town!
Victory (no winning in parkrun - Editorās note) was ours š„
And so was breakfast š³
Thank you Zuiderpark š
Thanks for reading and listening to Running Tales. We couldnāt do this without your support - please back us to keep going byā¦
Check those Polish parkruns. Three of those listed are in fact in Russia.