Almanac Running: West Beach parkrun – cocooned in this calm esplanade
An hour after Saturday’s slow dawn I edge into the throng at the Harold and Cynthia Anderson Reserve. On the neat lawns there’s people from across the athletic spectrum and dogs and dads with wide, black prams.
With a few hundred others I head north in the shared enterprise that is the West Beach parkrun. The congestion rapidly evaporates and peering ahead, the coloured stretch of joggers is elasticising along the esplanade.
To my right is a playground. With my teenaged boys having abandoned this age of innocence, I feel a saddening sting that comes from the despair of time moving quickly, too quickly. As I amble through, I can almost hear the spectral shrieks.
We snake by the Henley Sailing Club, all imposing and vaguely smug in its nautical whiteness. A greyish blue sea is on my left, and the trail chaperones us along the dune and among the hardy coastal vegetation. The city’s close by but we’re immersed in this surprising strip of wilderness.
Here the beach presents as serene and health-giving, somehow more encouraging of a life to be brightly lived. Then we take the bridge over Breakout Creek and the Torrens outlet. We often hear of the mighty Murray, and the mighty Mississippi; well, this is the tremendously modest Torrens but it’s our little river and makes for a fetching ecosystem.
A pair of female runners catches me, chatting about a casino win. Remember how going to a casino was once an event but now holds less ceremony than popping down to the servo in Ugg boots and shapeless trackies?
Pushing on, the Henley jetty swims into view. The talented local poet, John Malone, once wrote that jetties are umbilical cords attaching us to better versions of ourselves. Accepting this premise, every month I stride onto a jetty for the inner benefit of both gazing out to sea and back to the silent, sometimes worrying land. I think it works.
We pass the Henley Beach hotel. It’s a serviceable alehouse but fails to sunnily exploit its location. Rather than embracing the seaside and affirming breeze it seems to defy these. Maybe I should swing by soon to offer it redemption.
At Joe’s Kiosk I turn around and am southbound, encouraged by a clapping volunteer.
There’s an agreeable absence of metropolitan sounds. I’m cocooned in this calm esplanade and the solitude of running promotes a falling into yourself that’s neither acutely aware of the current slog nor meditative. This morning, running just is.
Gulf St. Vincent is gentle today and its mood washes onto me. Last week we had a rearing surf as a winter storm dumped mounds of brown seaweed. For all their ferocity, these tempests offer natural reassurance and a restoring intimacy.
Returning to the Harold and Cynthia Anderson Reserve I quicken and then cross the finish line. Knowing my time is modest I remember to focus on the act of having completed the run. The story’s narrative heave is often more important than the finale. I’m content.
Clumps of joggers again gather on the clipped lawns, their morning exercise now taken. Like me, some will disperse into satisfying and routine Saturdays. It’s the seventh birthday of West Beach parkrun so there’s cake for all. It’s a robust community.
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About Mickey Randall
Now whip it into shape/ Shape it up, get straight/ Go forward, move ahead/ Try to detect it, it's not too late/ To whip it, whip it good
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Well done Mickey. As my daughter tells me when I talk of my slow times at Portarlington parkrun, you are lapping the people on the couch.
Excellent point. Might be brisk early tomorrow as we’re in the Adelaide Hills! Still, I’ve intentions and as a volunteer said to me recently, ‘Win the morning, win the day.’ Thanks for that.
a great read, Mickey. I have been at the Nuriootpa Park Run often this year, after we moved to the Barossa, from Brisbane, in January. Did not take long to understand the reasoning for the 8am start in Nuri, as opposed to the 7am in Queensland! Keep up the great work.
I love your reflections on your parkruns, Mickey.
Noel, your daughter seems to have her father’s gift for the apposite words.
My take on it is a marathoner’s mantra:
There are three categories of winners in the marathon, first across the line, everyone who crosses the finish line, and everyone who makes it to the start line. I’m sure that applies to Parkrun also, it’s a marvellous institution.
Russel- having grown up in Kapunda and with Mum and Dad retired in Nuri, I know well where the parkrun goes and there’s some great bushland in there, despite it being in the town. The bush chapel is beautiful although I had some less than beautiful moments across the way at both Nuri #1 and Nuri #2!
Peter- That’s a great mantra. I’m so pleased to have finally come to parkrun. It reminds me of the Footy Almanac community with its generosity, spirit of volunteerism, and shared values.
Thanks so much.
Love it Mickey. Great photo.
My second oldest boy turned 13 the other day, I too feel that saddening sting of time moving too quickly.
Thanks Luke. I’ve started going for a neighbourhood walk once a week, and seeing playgrounds and places the boys and I used to visit, and it is certainly bittersweet. This definitely reinforces the idea that you can return to a place but not a time!
Excellent, Mickey.
And it looks and reads like the weather was kind.
Although we cannot control the weather, I always feel that it can have an enormous effect on one’s mood.
Yes, Smokie, the weather was great: mild, still and with a towering, winter sky. It was idyllic.
We were in the Adelaide Hills last weekend and on Sunday I ran early by the paddocks through a low mist when the apparent temperature was just north of zero. But it was excellent, and I imagined I was on the nineteenth century moors albeit wearing Brooks Ghost running shoes. It was so much better than in a stiff breeze. Unless you’re a sailor there’s few sports that benefit from strong wind!
Thanks for this.
Superb Mickey as always taking us along your adventure – couldn’t agree more re the casino
I admit I’m jealous as well as my knees are c marsh b lillee no score re any running – the distant fond memory of doing the city-bay in 42 min 14 sec is exactly that a bloody long ago memory
Thanks for that RB.
One reason I run (jog is a better term) is because I still can, and I know that, while my knees are fine, it could end in a big hurry! I get that cycling is popular and probably easier on your body, but I’ve always been unable to be excited by the bike! 42 minutes is a super quick CB time! Well done on that. My best time was about ten minutes slower. I’ve signed up for this year’s CB, but only the 6k version- that’ll be enough.