RunVerity didn’t happen overnight, for many years before the idea even began to form, I was the “go to” person when work colleagues or friends of friends needed some advice on running. I’d be asked “my husband’s running a marathon could you write him a plan?” or “I want to start running, would you come out with me?” The requests were frequent, it gave me an edge, something to talk about.

My normal day to day job was teaching Psychology at the local 6th Form, my students soon cottoned on to asking me a question about running during one of my “boring” lessons knowing I’d gladly deviate from the ppt as I regaled tales of peeing on The Avenue des Champs-Élysées before my first Paris marathon (French runners don’t que for a toilet, they just barge in, I had no choice!)

And because running had been generous, kind and compassionate to me, I was eager to share this “cure all evils” treatment to anyone who would listen and after far too many requests from people to teach them to run, I set up a beginner’s run club at work, we’d meet through the week after a full day of teaching plus a Saturday morning. My lasting memory of these runs was how safe an environment it was for us all, this eccentric group would never have joined a “normal” running club, the C25K app wasn’t even a glint in a techno wizard’s eye (in fact they probably hadn’t even been born then).

My simple run/walk programme was hungrily lapped up as our little work misfit group learnt how the power of running could change their lives. And whilst I was an active contributor in my local running club, all of this was voluntary, hence this innocent remark of, “I’d pay you to do this”, sowed the initial seed of RunVerity.

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Could I monetise my hobby and teach complete beginner’s how to run? People who had always wanted to be able to run but would never in a million years have joined their local running club - could there be a target market for my passion? Was I able to create a stepping stone, a helping hand to break down the misconceptions that running clubs were only for the elite or serious runners? I’d found through my own experience and that of friends that these narratives I knew to be false were preventing people from gaining so many rich opportunities of friendships, support and community, just like I had with my local running club.

Fuck it, I thought, let’s do it, I mean what’s the worst that could happen?

The very first RunVerity beginner’s course started in September 2014. The auspicious scene was a dimly lit car park, as the first handful of nervous beginners gathered, a feeling of “should we really be doing this here” was tangible as surreptitious glances were exchanged. I remember an almost illicit undertone, it felt more like a covert drug deal as I was discreetly passed envelopes filled with used notes - no receipts given, no questions asked, just hope that I could “fix” them.

My bespoke and unique selling point was that we never started with running, it was always about learning how to move, and about how to get out of the front door. This was for many of our beginners their biggest achievement, their personal Mount Everest, or their 30 marathons in 30 days. I never underestimated how hard this was for some people, as I strived to create a safe space, constantly learning and evolving as I completely misconstrued just how high some people’s barriers were. Beginner’s graduation parkruns became like school PE lessons with mid run “bunking off” as my graduates couldn’t face yet another lap of the parkrun course and sought sanctuary in their car (that they had already passed twice!) with similar feelings of failure and not being good enough. Parkruns soon stopped being our graduation run…

This initial plan of bridging the gap to our local running club soon dissolved after the first course, “but we want to stay and run with you”. I had to take a breath, rethink things, the intention was never for RunVerity to be a running club and if I’m honest, I didn’t know where to start as I hesitantly added a “Improvers” session into the week. I had so many questions, I was a teacher, what did I know about running a business, I mean, what do I charge, how do I create a website, how do I collect money, how do I chase money, how do I employ someone and how do I fit my training in? And before I knew what was happening, I was trying to fit in 4 days of teaching with 7 days of running and coaching.

Nonetheless, this was how the club evolved, every 8 weeks a new beginner’s course, a need for new runners to feel safe now evident and a continuation of chipping away at the many barriers. Word spread quickly, being a runner made ordinary people feel special and slowly we built a community, an inclusive group with the strap line “Let’s Run Together”.

And run together we did, filling an innate need of belonging our running community grew, with friendships, fun, laughter and companionship. As my ties were cut with my old community I grew a new one, with a strong ethos in my values of inclusivity. Inevitably, perhaps, my ego swelled. I revelled in the admiration and all “you’ve changed my life” feedback. I felt validated and honoured to be part of someone’s life that was private and sacred, members tell me that when, in the depths of despair, they struggled to leave the safety of their house, they managed to make it to a group run. It wasn’t always all about the running, the community soothed out some of the hurt and rebuilt self-esteems and gave people the superpower of being a “runner”.

Members came and went, the learning curve of how to run a business was steep and at times sharp, but my passion in those early days never waned. I would puff with pride as I described how 60-year-old Mike turned up to his first beginner’s session petrified and practically convinced that I’d ask him to leave because “although I can teach anyone to run Mike, I won’t be able to teach you”. (I did teach Mike to run, and he continues to run today, with several of half marathons under his belt).

I left teaching in 2017 throwing myself further into the business and by February 2020 I won a Sports Award “Changing Lives through Physical Activity”. I was so proud but never really got to shout about it as COVID hit us all with full force a month later… I thought my business would vanish, why would people continue to pay when there wasn’t a group to physically go to? But something wonderful happened, the sheer tenacity and determination that was the culture of our club enabled us to keep going as members ran “marathon” distances on their own when long trained for races were cancelled. We stepped out of our comfort zones by sharing our vulnerability on FB lives without make up; I entertained members with live cooking updates that never went viral, we shared innovation, creativity and vulnerability and all these small moments of kindness and support wove further into our DNA.

And then, BOOM! Just like the “jogging BOOM of the 70s” there was another huge surge in the popularity of running. The perfect storm of the pandemic, the shared commodity of our global curfew with a hours daily exercise, a huge (brilliant) dose of realisation that anyone can be a runner, and add all this into the mix an unstoppable, elite-like paced juggernaut of technology perfectly aligned to create a constant flow of instant accessible social media content. Within seconds you too can find someone just like you, on the same running journey, the same age, same gender, same size who happily share their stories, their success, their medals, their races…but do they #sharetheshit?

The result of this perfect storm? A complex running beast that fed on social comparisons and misinformation, that slowly weaved its way into all our daily feeds, creating fears of missing out on races, pb’s, of not being good enough, fast enough, thin enough, (you get the idea) as the latest races, medals and hacks became more costly and more incentivised.

Of course I got caught up in it all, but honestly who wouldn’t? Looking back now I know I inadvertently fed the beast, at times, whilst also knowing how conflicted I felt about how to protect my own and others wellbeing.

Fish & Chips - 10th Birthday Celebrations

It’s been a bit like herding cats as I’ve tried to keep up, of going with the flow of technology, what choice did I have? I feared being seen as old fashioned, out of touch, and above anything else… well, too old, with training plans still on a word doc and not directly pinged over to smart watches. And in doing so I think the cost of compromising my core values was too much, I tried to be enthusiastic as the ever-increasing chasm grew bigger between those who were able to enter exclusive races and those who couldn’t afford it, and this to me isn’t what running is all about, the simplicity and accessibility of running was vanishing.

As we enter the next decade of RunVerity what have I learnt as I reassess the core values of creating a safe space for people to show up? Do you know what, as I look around the familiar faces in the club I’m hit by the realisation of the longevity of our members, we’ve supported each other in marriages, separations, divorce, illness’s, births and deaths. We offer words of support, a gentle, reassuring hand on a shoulder if we see a member struggling to keep the tears at bay when life is tough, new mums struggling to juggle work/life/running or empty nesters wondering what’s next. So many of us are now navigating a new unknown territory of being grandparents, even great grandparents, and we’re back to understanding that running isn’t always about the medals, it’s about the simple, but at times, herculean effort of getting out of the front door.

10 years of RunVerity - here’s just a bit of what I’ve learnt.

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