Article
Change
Community
Sport
3 min read

The power of running together

Park Run and the participation principle.

Jessica is a Formation Tutor at St Mellitus College, and completing a PhD in Pauline anthropology, 

Runners jog along a path into the sunset.
Park Run UK

There has been a surge among Millennials (myself included) in running. After watching the London Marathon this year, a record 840,318 people entered the ballot for 2025. The encouragement, stories and social media increase in ‘running-Tok’ may have been behind this, but I think it says something more profound about society's sudden interest in running.  

I started running back in 2019. It provided a space to get outside, clear my head and improve my fitness. It was a hobby, turned interested, turned key personality trait as it became easy for me to converse with people about whether you were a Hoka or On shoe wearer. But my running only really improved when I began to run with people. Quietly competitive, I like being able to mark my pace against those around me. In 2023, I signed up for my first half-marathon, leading me to simultaneously sign up for “Park Run”.  Park Run is a free community event that takes place around the UK. At my local park run, an average of 1,500 people turn up each Saturday to run five kilometres around our local park, rain or shine. I was amazed to see people week-in-week-out turning up to run together. This weekly ritual provides a space for connection, community, and, for some, their sense of identity. The hard decision to wake up early on a Saturday morning to make my way to the start line gets replaced by the endorphins of participating in this run with others. There is power in running with others.  

But running with people makes it easier to stay the course, run for longer, and keep going to the end. 

A recent article in The Atlantic observes the social change that has occurred as the number of people attending church declines. The author noticed that the Church didn’t only provide a space for worship and an opportunity to connect with the divine, but also a narrative of identity, community, and ritual to our weekly rhythm. As the framework of the church is removed from society, we see an increase in isolation and disconnection. As church attendance declines, applications to run 26.2 miles increase!  

Spaces like Park Run provide this sense of community and connection that is becoming harder to find in our increasingly digital and disconnected world. A surge in race partipcation speaks of a culture longing for community, connection and identity. A common characteristic trait for millennials is their desire to develop and find meaningful motivation in their goals and what they want to achieve. Gathering with those with similar interests or goals brings out the best in what we can achieve and teaches us about the power of doing things together.  

 When running on my own, I am always tempted to cut the run short, change my route, and, let’s be honest, go and get a coffee. But running with people makes it easier to stay the course, run for longer, and keep going to the end.  

Societies’ need for connection and community is stronger than ever. When St Paul’ wrote to an early church, he frequently used the metaphor of running a race with a goal in mind. The power of the crowd in a race is tangible, both from those cheering you on and those with whom you are running.  It is easier to run for longer when I run with people and am encouraged to keep going. As someone who attends church, I can see how it upholds a place in my Christian faith that I don’t succumb to cutting it short or ducking out, as can often be the temptation when I run alone.  

A record number of applications to run the 2025 London Marathon speaks of how we all seek community, connection and identity. Park Run on a Saturday and Church on Sunday have more in common than perhaps I initially realised. They each provide a space for community and connection, but each has its own goal and focus on identity. Although the goals are different, the underlying principle is the same: it is better to run with people because there is power in running together.  

Article
Change
Community
Justice
Sustainability
5 min read

Everything is a movement – and that’s as it should be

They’re powerful when they are marked by love, dignity and justice.

Juila is a writer and social justice advocate. 

A digital billboard on top of a London building reads: Make Earth Day Everyday.
An Earth Day billboard, London, 2025.
Le Good Society.

I keep accidentally joining movements. In one instance, I had a go at submitting an essay for a competition; when it was (happily) selected to be part of the published book, the blurb told me that I was part of a movement of people embracing messy motherhood stories. At the same time, I am not parenting – and this apparently pulls me into a ‘sisterhood’ of women without children. These could seem contradictory, but I recognise that they are calls to togetherness. And yet, as I go about my life – trying to pay my bills, navigate community, play my part as a citizen of this world that is partly marked by climate crisis and conflict – I have to confess that my gut reaction at being called part of them is to feel tired. I don’t know if I have the energy for another movement in me.  

Movements seem to be having a moment. Open the news or social media, and there will be stories of communities of people speaking up together. And yet movements are not new. History reminds us that they have long been one of the best ways to counteract unchecked or disproportionate power. The anti-slavery campaigners of the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, the US civil rights movement, the influence of anti-apartheid and land rights activists… when we participate in a movement for justice, this is the heritage we are locating ourselves in.  

What makes a movement? It’s a group of ordinary individuals, and it’s so much more than that. It’s marked by people trying to live the change they seek, but it doesn’t end there. There is something about a movement that is emergent, more than the sum of its parts. Groups of people taking collective action to see change happen. Crucially, the movements that bend the arc of justice are those that are centred on the voices and priorities of those most affected by their cause. In this, they reflect God’s heart; an invitation to us all to participate, with a particular emphasis for those on the margins.  

The other week saw Earth Day, an annual event which celebrates the environmental movement. While for some, it can be co-opted to suggest green credentials that don’t bear out the rest of the year, but for many it is an entry point, a chance to meaningfully participate. What began in the US on 22 April 1970 is now marked by around one billion people – one in eight of us – around the world. It’s a particular moment to highlight action for this world that we share. This world with boundaries that are being tested and breached. Just a week earlier, communities in India and Pakistan were experiencing heat that tested the limits of human survival. Our bodies were not made for this kind of weather.  

The theme of this year’s Earth Day was ‘Our power, our planet’, with a particular emphasis on scaling up renewable energy. But I have found myself thinking about other kinds of power: the influence of people when they come together. Do we greet moments like this with cynicism, self-interested opportunism, or genuine expectation for change? In the face of horrifying headlines and lived injustice, what motivates people to keep going again for change? There are many likely reasons, often personal. To understand a few of the common ones, we need to go back to the beginning.  

“Much of my life goes irrelevantly on, in spite of larger events.” 

Nora Ephron 

In the opening passages of the Bible, the world was called ‘good',and the rest of the story is one of restoration; what has been broken being made whole and new. This articulates for us what we often intuit: the world was made to be better than this. Where cynicism offers a casual invitation to give up on change, when we look at our daily lives, we see the myriad ways that we demonstrate a quiet hope for tomorrow. Sowing seeds in spring is an act of faith that the summer will bloom. 

This conviction might manifest differently for each of us. For some of us, it means carrying a persistent hope in spite of the hurt we see and feel. For others, it might feel grittier. Like the irritation of a grain of sand in your shoe; you can’t walk on until you do something about it. Either way, it is a longing for something that is brighter and fairer and kinder than what we have right now. Something more resonant with the deep cries of our souls.   

Underlying these instincts is our God-given purpose. He made humans to draw even more goodness out of that which was baked into this world from the beginning. We were shaped to partner with God to see order brought out of chaos, freedom from captivity, a seed of renewal out of the grave. Allowing this to take root in our hearts can save us from a sense of nihilism, that nothing matters. 

Like many women of my generation, I am a fan of Nora Ephron’s writing. She famously wrote about taking part in movements and yet “Much of my life goes irrelevantly on, in spite of larger events.” There is welcome honesty in acknowledging how privilege can insulate against the impacts of injustice. But there is also a provocation in these words. When we respond to God’s invitation to participate in his restoration work, we find our relevancy in the work we were always made for. In other words, our choices can be meaningful.  

I may have stumbled into some movements, but I can see that these are invitations to move closer to each other. Acting for justice can require sacrifice of lifestyle, time, comfort. But outworking this together can also bring growth, empathy, joy. When we are weary, there is life to be found with others. God is inherently relational: three persons – Father, Son and Holy Spirit – co-existing as one. In this relationship is unity, service of each other, appreciation of each other’s gifts. With God’s likeness in each of us, we too made for this kind of community. Our movements are powerful when they are marked by such love, dignity and justice. Glimpsing this induces us to look beyond ourselves, to step towards people and circumstances. Being part of a movement is to choose to be in closer proximity with each other and the world we dwell in together.  

I remind myself that in such community, there is room to acknowledge weariness. At the same time, there is also an encouragement to move beyond disenchantment about days like Earth Day, about gloomy headlines, about discouragement or setbacks. It can be tempting to let our lives go irrelevantly on, but being part of a movement reminds us that we don’t have to settle for that.  

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