Nipping in for a swift one Santa
Why did two hundred Santa's cross the road?.. Because after running 5k they deserve a mince pie!
Okay, so here is something you don’t witness every day: 200+ Santa Claus hats clogging up the local boozer before lunch—well, in fact, at any point if I’m honest. And if I do say so myself, it’s one hell of a sight! What makes this even stranger is the fact that the pub itself has lent itself out to be the starting point of a 10km race, one to which the entrants have been handed a Santa hat alongside their racing numbers. A large number have turned up in festive attire, and there is a Santa’s sleigh strapped to the back of a rather shiny Scania wagon—a classic rural approach to the concept of reindeer, with no clean air restrictions in the country.
The event is held in support of a local charity, Galloways, who work to aid those affected by sight loss. The charity itself is based outside of Penwortham in the northwest of the country and has been helping the community since 1867. The normal buckets are out getting a shake, and the wardens are sharp on the attack when it comes to selling the raffle tickets. Food tents line the car park, with the usual trappings put aside for the more festive treats—mulled wine sat bubbling away in the bain-maries, and mince pies stacked high for all that attend.
Galloways, a sight loss charity offering support
Now don’t be fooled: I was not in my running gear personally—nor had I come to actually report on the event. However, as I have found myself slap bang in the middle of it with an hour to kill and my laptop in hand, I thought I would take the opportunity to make an attempt to capture the environment somewhat. I was actually sat there in support of my partner, who was taking on the run with one of her friends she has made whilst attending the local running group—who was further accompanied by Max the dog. My role? Well, that was simple really. I had the hard task of sipping coffee as I have been left in charge of all the belongings, this inclusive of our daughter, who was rather unconcerned by the whole affair and spent the majority of the time picking the ice cubes from her five-quid orange juice, all whilst actually failing to drink it, as does every self-respecting five-year-old.
The run is in a village about 5 miles from where we live, and although we remained indoors watching the first runners return (with impressive times, I may add), there was what could only be described as an army of Santa’s out running the pavements—one hell of a sight for a small village, let me just say. I appreciate that certain areas may be a little more exposed to levels of strangely dressed people, and actually in some parts of the country I wouldn’t be too surprised if I saw an elf run past me. Like, I attend a rather liberal university, so I’m used to the stranger sights. Yet quite honestly, if you were not aware of what was happening, this may induce a local to scratch their head somewhat.
Why have I decided to open the laptop and start typing? Well, that’s rather simple actually: this was the first time since the start of the holidays that I have truly felt the spirit of Christmas! I don’t mean “spirits” of Christmas either, although had I not been driving, I may have indulged in a little tipple as the vibe is awesome—even Santa dismounted his sleigh and nipped in for a swift one once the starter set them all off. The spirit that I am talking about is the one that lights that little candle inside, the feeling that connects you to something deeper—certainly not something I would’ve expected to find in a little local in Longton.
Yes, we have hung the tree, the school nativity is out of the way, we’ve done Santa, the presents are wrapped—but for me, none of that lights that spark. Actually, if I had to address it, it’s been a little slow to get going for me. Much like an aging resident awaiting their winter fuel allowance, my pilot light has been somewhat wavering. That little dim flicker has found some help, and quite honestly, I found it in what may be considered a rather strange place for me: amid noise, in a busy bar. I would normally avoid bars at this time of year for this exact reason; however, Scrooge has taken a day off, and I was even considering allowing Christmas music on in the car on the way home—this didn’t happen!
You see, for me, the baubles and tinsel are all good, but really it’s just fluff. Yes, I can get behind the magic for the kids—the mystery of a fat old man sneaking into the house in the middle of the night to leave presents for the whole family is a rather concerning message as an adult, although this irony is lost in the innocent gaze all too familiar when a child spots a stocking sat over the fireplace. But on the face of it, that’s all a little materialistic for my inner soul. I’m told that even as a child I was somewhat annoying to my parents on the big day, opening the first present that I got my hands on with great care, then ignoring the rest whilst I familiarized myself with the item sat in front of me—much to the frustration of anybody watching on as they would be awaiting the fruits of their hard work to be opened. This is something that has followed me into adulthood; at this stage in my life, gifts themselves make me rather uncomfortable. Like, I have no problem giving a gift—that selfishly satisfies some internal condition—but try and give me a gift, that’s another story. I look uneasy, almost rude. This is never the intention, and I will always explain my discomfort, yet I’m sure most gifters are like, “Charming, the ungrateful sod,” as I offer a strained “Oh, thank you.” I even try and tell people that the best gift for me is no gifts at all—this is always ignored due to social convention and people’s undue generosity.
So why is it my candle flickers a little brighter now? Quite simply: love and appreciation. And not love and appreciation directed at myself, but simply projected out into the ether. What started out as a bar of strangers, I’d comfortably say came back into that bar united—not just united in the fact that they were all sweaty (some more so than others)—connected on a deeper level. You see, normally when you stand on the finish line of these events, the first thing most will do is check their time, stats on whatever smart tech they support, then hand in their number, jump back in the car, and part ways till the next event. Yet today, one by one they hit the line, gathered a mince pie and cup of mulled wine, and joined back in the bar to gather their legs. People laughed, some cried, yet all but a few hung around in conversation. Songs were sung as the music was cranked up to accompany the crowd; Father Christmas even put down his gin and tonic long enough to ensure all the kids had taken a dip in the sack. It was genuinely buzzing with love—the buckets were in demand as people were more than willing to drop in what they could afford in support of a good cause.
Now, I’ve never run a distance race before, but I have a feeling that this one came easier to the runners than most in the year’s calendar. This I hypothesize due to the nature of the charity—one that is close to the hearts of many locals—and obviously aided by the jovial nature of the event. For myself, the fact that I had a warm seat to sit at, supported by a high-end coffee, was a plus, as normally it’s a wait in the car with the thermos. And although these luxuries aided it, the most intoxicating thing was witnessing such human connection—human connection that’s rarely seen these days. Family, friends, running groups, old and young—all in it together and not in competition with one another. My partner and her friend (and Max the dog) were accompanied for the final 2km by a gentleman in his mid-eighties, fresh from hospital two weeks previous, to which he had nearly not survived—but here he was, shorts and Santa hat, laces tied, and doing his bit for a cause that is close to the hearts of so many. I mention that because it just highlights the importance of events like these: a conversation, a story told, and a connection made. Now, my partner will probably never meet this man again; she may have never spoken to him outside of this event, but as it stands, there was opportunity presented for a connection to be realized, and it’s important that these opportunities are given the space to be achieved. Nothing throws another Yule log on the festive fire than a community coming together in celebration of a good cause, all whilst achieving something personal for themselves by completing the run.
For some, it will be the last run of the year; for some, the first steps of their running careers; others, a continuation of those early steps—and for some, it’s all about the medal, a reward I know brings a smile to Kelly’s face when it drops in the post. This is normally followed by her request for a hammer and nail so she can add to the well-earned collection rightfully displayed on the wall of the kitchen. For the runners, there is the inevitable rush of endorphins; for myself, there is the experience and the chance to watch on as the human race shares in a connection that may be missed by most, but for me is such a visual feast. Hormones, emotions, and feelings that are beautiful in their realization, yet, as always, will eventually subside as we embrace our own Christmas crazy.
For the charity, on the other hand, the support generated today I feel will impact the lives of individuals for years to come. So, maybe if there is anything to take from today, it’s the fact that taking the time to show your support and pass a little thought for someone other than ourselves can actually deliver more of a reward in return than we may think. Be that a few coins thrown into the bucket, donning a Santa hat and enduring the run, or indeed the volunteers and planning team that provide their time to organize the whole thing—a community in full-force humanity mode.
With the world almost unrecognizable at the moment, feeling more divided than ever, I certainly felt blessed to spend my morning slurping a well-made coffee, witnessing the good of humans first-hand. Well done, Hopton’s Tap House & Cocktails, Longton, for nailing the coffee; well done to all that turned up to support and share in the experience; and a massive well done to Kelly and Jackie, who took on the run whilst we had our feet up.
Oh, and well done to the pacesetter, Max… cue photo of cute dog for clicks…
