From memory, I believe I have only previously dedicated, twice, an entire week’s work to an individual parkrun. The first time was my first ever completed one at my home course, Sandringham, and the second was our inaugural overseas event, Bay East Garden in Singapore.

There was so much about West Stow Country parkrun that floated my boat, I have ended up writing too much and really don’t want to abbreviate it. So, if running is not your thing, sorry, but if it is, pin back those lugholes and listen up.

West Stow Anglo-Saxon Village and Country Park. I feel that this is one of my happy places although it is, I am afraid, by no means unique. This reconstruction of a medieval village is truly astounding, and I recommend you pay it a visit.

The original occupants of this land were early immigrants, arriving shortly after the collapse of the Western Roman Empire. It seems that there were up to 70 buildings once on this site, pre-Norman Conquest according to the Trust’s website. Indeed, pre-England even. Athelstan would not amalgamate the United Kingdoms of England until nearly 300 years after West Stow was abandoned.

It was in the 1960s that archaeologists descended on the land and started to unearth the settlement and the story of the peoples that occupied this corner of Suffolk. Today you will find a first-class visitor centre along with eight recreated buildings. Honestly, it is like stepping back in time.

When I discovered that a parkrun had been created at the site, the excitement gauge nearly went off the scale. Now, this time in history is sometimes referred to as the Dark Ages, a little unfair nowadays as we make more archaeological discoveries that fill in our missing knowledge.

Okay, the written record is not what it could be, but archaeology and imagination help to bring the period to life, filling in some of those scintillating gaps. Historical fiction is equally as important as historical fact in scraping away at the treasures buried just below the surface.

The light is now disappearing very quickly from my eyes and running around such beautiful places as West Stow Country Park only serves to make me realise what I am missing. As mentioned, numerous times in these pages, I will be forever grateful to an incredible band of brothers and sisters, usually highly achieving runners in their own rights, who, by using their eyes, can shed light on paths that would be, otherwise, as dark as the time in which they were formed. This event proved to be no exception.

The Event and Run Directors put out a plea to the wider running community asking if anyone was a registered VI Guide willing to give up their time to guide an over-the-hill old blind bloke around safely. In email exchanges with the team, I was informed that the course might be quite a struggle for the visually impaired. I can tell you, here and now, they weren’t wrong.

Just when I had given up on someone coming forward, I had even asked my sister if she would guide me, I received an extremely gratifying email confirming that a VI Guide had volunteered. The most amazing young lady threw herself into the breach. Katie Margarson is that truly amazing and, dare I say, inspirational woman. Without you, Katie, and all your compatriots, people like me would spend our time sitting in armchairs on Saturday mornings. Thank you.

Jane and I were greeted by RD, Andrea Moore and her team, who allowed me to address the assembled group prior to the start. I tried to let them know how difficult it was for people like me to do this without people like Katie. I informed them that we needed to run side-by-side as we will be tethered together, requesting that they let us know when they are passing. It is always awesome how many participants abide by this request. It certainly makes life easier for all of us.

We were off. Immediately, Katie was apologising for elbowing me but, to be frank, it was unavoidable. The terrain was best described as all terrain, quite rough actually. I was astounded and, to be honest, somewhat impressed by the sight of a woman pushing a racing buggy complete with infant. I did wonder about the quality of the suspension and the impact of the continual jarring on little spines. I am not, though, a doctor. I do fear, however, that one day a tragic accident will unfold in front of us, when a front wheel of one of these buggies gets trapped in a hole, between roots or simply slips and, before anyone can do anything, the conveyance has flipped over, leaving the pusher and one or two others crushing the most valuable of cargoes.

Dogs can’t always keep themselves quiet during the pre-event briefings and West Stow is no exception. They are simply not interested in all that preamble gibberish. Once we were off, though, it is like someone has gone around and made them drop their barks into a bucket, they are concentrating on the matter in hand, or should that be paw! I had as much concern about our furry friends as I did for swaddled babes-in-arms, although I need to point out that I am not an absolute dog lover, but I did observe, with my feet as much as my eyes, that some of the holes might well have swallowed some of the dogs whole.

Katie gave me a very good piece of advice early on. Whilst she did quote the usual VI Guide mantra by telling me to lift my feet, she did actually refrain from this when I pointed out that without some sort of hover board technology it is actually a physical impossibility, I have to put my feet down at some stage. Winged feet might provide the answer, so can anyone let me know what Hermes did with his second-hand sandals.

She agreed that this was a good point and changed it to, something along the lines of, “I know you have to put your feet down eventually, but in the instance the ground isn’t quite where you expect it to be, trust me, you will touchdown eventually.” What a good job that the astronauts of Artemus II didn’t have to rely on the same protocol, “You will touchdown eventually!”

Whilst my remaining vision did play a small role in keeping me upright, it really was time for the other senses to earn their corn. Touch, as I have just described, was enormously important, more so than I can remember at any other venue. Then, of course, there was hearing, the sense I cannot do without, it is, quite clearly, my replacement eyes, and loud noise can render me hearing blind as well as sight blind; smell is another good second fiddle, at one time I was sure I could pick up the scent of blossoms in the air. I am not sure, though, whether the scents I was breathing in were natural or another runner’s perfume, very nice either way. I can’t think that taste had anything to do with it. Leave the last one to savour the post parkrun coffee.

How best to describe the course? The easy bit first, it is two laps and I think, as far as visually impaired participants are concerned, it can be quite challenging in places. I have already described the holes. Add to these the roots, the cross cambers in places, worn away paths creating uneven ground to run on and one or two sharp little corners, that’s pretty much it.

There was a point, where a sharp righthand turn took us through a gate onto a low-lying meadow, before we egressed through a second gate, this time constrictively narrow which we had to negotiate in single file. We got this right on the second circuit, having bumped my left hip on the gatepost and my right hip on my guide runner first time around. It was at that point we realised we couldn’t get through side-by-side.

What I hadn’t really expected were one or two sharp ups and downs. So as not to earn the wrath of one of my more regular Guides, she comes from the Lake District you know, where hills are hills and inclines are level, I shall refrain from calling them hills. Let’s face it, though, they felt like bloody hills to me.

Isn’t it so true that you learn something new everyday, everyday is a school day, all that sort of thing. I had never, ever, heard of skiing moguls before. Katie said that the lumpy ground reminded her of moguls. I asked Mr Google, and not that I was ever doubting her, she is right, there is such a thing. It is a freestyle discipline of skiing where the competitor has to negotiate lumps and bumps manufactured from compacted snow. Well, who knew?

At last, we got there. Thanks to some amazing cajoling, prodding and encouraging from Katie. Despite some iffy parts, I don’t think we did too badly in the end. Strangely, I can’t wait to go back and give it another go.

I would like to point out here, before turning up this morning, Katie had already been out for a four-mile run. As I was lurching toward a bench for my recovery, she announced, all too matter of factly, that she was off for another ten miles. Wow, how to make a veteran feel inferior!

During the last lap, when the throng had thinned a little, I could hear the babbling of the nearby brook. Well, it wasn’t actually a brook or stream, it appears it is a fully fledged river, the Lark I believe. I can imagine a summer’s day strolling along its banks reciting lines of Alfred Tennyson’s poem. When you think that this site marks a period of history, from Anglo-Saxon times until the present day, older than England itself, Tennyson’s words could not be more apt.

I love these few lines from this most emotive of works by one of our greatest ever wordsmiths. As we all remember from our schooldays, the poem could be a metaphor for our own journey through life or, indeed, the history of this settlement from conception until the modern day. I prefer, however, to take it literally, it is just the most brilliant way of describing how a stream wends its way from source to river. I love these few lines, always have done, we just need reminding of them from time to time. After the river’s course is run, we get this:

To join the brimming river
Men may come and men may go
But I go on forever

Don’t you just love it. Please go and read it again. It perfectly fits the West Stow landscape, history evolving and running its own course. I reckon the Lark will still be here long after we have gone.

A postscript to my visit to West Stow involves my late father, Arthur. I hadn’t really given it much thought that that particular day, 18th April 2026, marked the tenth anniversary of his passing. He wasn’t however, going to let me get through without remembering his auspicious day. Sorry, Dad, I forgot to get you a present for your tenth deathday. Isn’t it strange how the human mind works, in this case mine, or is it the spirits conspiring to remind us, lest we forget.

Taking us back to the Friday night, prior to my guiding angel being confirmed for the following morning, I was considering baling. Can I remind you, I had even asked my sister, who lived locally, not too shabby a runner herself, but with no luck.

I had finished reading her WhatsApp message saying that she had exhausted all options including, bless her, asking others on my behalf. I placed my phone down on the arm of the chair. No sooner had I done this and it pinged again. This time it was an email from the Events Team at West Stow saying that a Guide had come forward at the last minute. Brilliant, we were on. Even though I didn’t realise it at the time it must have all been down to Dad working his spiritual magic.

I had not made any connection until later in the day when I was reviewing the results. I have no idea why I took a look, it’s not usually my thing, although Jane loves the statistics of it all. Anyway, there I was, scrolling through the list of finishers when I got as far down the list as 18th, that is 18th on 18th April 2026, ten years on from Dad’s passing, and what I realised made my skin tingle, full on goose bumps. The position was occupied by none other than Arthur Taylor. Wow!

What on earth made all the threads fall into such an order that everything came together at that particular event on that particular day. Of course, it is nothing more than a coincidence, or is it the ancient goddesses, the Three Norns, messing around with their scissors and the strands of destiny. It did make me wonder for a few days, though, coincidence or intervention.

West Stow is even more special in my heart now.

Find Out More
West Stow Country parkrun: https://www.parkrun.org.uk/weststowcountry
West Stow Anglo-Saxon Village: https://www.weststow.org

White Cane Ratings* ©
Car Park: good; not free - 🦯 🦯 🦯 (3)
Welcome and Briefing: very good; missed the first timer briefing - 🦯 🦯 🦯 🦯 (4)
Atmosphere: very good - 🦯 🦯 🦯 🦯 (4)
Course: average; challenging – 🦯 🦯 (2)
Marshalling: excellent; enthusiastic - 🦯 🦯 🦯 🦯 🦯 (5)
*These ratings are how the event suits this particular blind person and are my opinion only; they are not scientific. Whatever happens no-one must be put off by me. The best way to learn about something is try it for yourself.