There is something about running that sets you free. There is something about running that stops you thinking too much. Or, at least, it stops you thinking about things that are worrying you or agitating you or angering you. There is something about running that acts as a salve and brings you back to the world better for it.
There is something about running that allows you to blot things out and ease things away. Something that makes you feel you could be anywhere. For a short period of time, whether you are running against someone, or just running against yourself, you escape and there are no walls any more.
Last Saturday morning, as the third round of the Open was beginning 20 miles away at Royal Portrush, the gates at HMP Magilligan, a medium security jail surrounded by beautiful countryside close to the shores of Lough Foyle and housing 500 inmates, started to swing open.
An alarm sounded that had the same jarring dissonance as the warning noise a van makes when it is reversing. But this was louder and more urgent.
We walked through the gates into a part of the prison with low-slung buildings that are used for prisoner workshops. The deputy governor, Alan Platt, double-checked that those of us who were visiting had left our mobile phones in our cars outside.
He pointed out Nissen huts that housed inmates when the prison was first opened in 1972 during the Troubles, as part of the policy of Internment. He checked names against a list.
Mail Sport’s Oliver Holt outside HMP Magilligan ahead of last Saturday’s 5km parkrun event
The outside wall of HMP Magilligan, one of only two prisons to operate a parkrun
‘I’ve got to be careful about who’s coming in,’ he said. Then he smiled. ‘And even more careful about who’s going out.’
We walked up to another set of gates. The grinding and clanking of metal began again as they cranked open. The same, jarring alarm sounded again. And we walked through the gate and inside the high prison walls into the heart of the jail.
The gates gave way to a loosely formed courtyard. There was a hut housing a barber’s shop on one side and another where we were going to have a coffee or a tea with the prisoners after we had completed the 5km parkrun about to take place inside the jail.
Some of the prisoners had begun to gather at the start line. One of them had a vivid tattoo on his left leg that said ‘F*** the System’ in big letters. Another had what looked like a Greek tragedy mask inked on his shin.
I thought that was poignant so I asked him about it. He said it was a depiction of a pizza brand called Cheesus Crust. He said he hoped I wasn’t religious. Then it was time to start the run.
The idea of sport taking place in jail has been a cultural fascination for centuries because the two things seem so opposed. Vincent van Gogh’s painting, Prisoners Exercising presented a particularly claustrophobic portrait of what it means to try to expend physical effort in jail. The Shawshank Redemption portrayed a much more spacious exercise yard.
HMP Magilligan is one of only two prisons in the UK – the other is HMP Haverigg in Cumbria – to stage a 5km parkrun every Saturday morning and now and again, a few visitors are invited to join in. It brings a new meaning to the idea of prisoners on the run.
Sometimes, would-be runners turn up uninvited at the gates, too, and have to be turned away. Parkrun is still surging in popularity and many have become obsessed by competing at as many different locations as possible.
Vincent van Gogh’s ‘Prisoners Exercising’, inspired by an engraving of the exercise yard at Newgate Prison in London
I’ve done my fair share of running in my life – including the Paris Olympic marathon course last year (pictured) – but this was something else altogether
To run a parkrun in a prison is so hard to arrange that for obsessives, the Lower Drummans event – the name given to the HMP Magilligan race – has become a ParkRunner’s Holy Grail.
The official record showed 32 runners had completed the run on Saturday. Many of the prisoners use an alias to record their weekly times. Some of them have families who don’t know they are even in jail.
The course consists of six loops of a wide pathway that starts from the courtyard and runs between the prisoner cell blocks, past the exercise yard and a sign next to a little garden that says ‘Stay Strong and Look to the Future’.
You run towards the beauty of the hills of Donegal that rise beyond the walls in the distance and then you turn and head back towards the start line, repeating the loop six times until you complete the 5km run.
Colin Rice, the prison officer who organises the run and was responsible for making it part of the official parkrun roster seven years ago, encourages runners as he passes them on the out and back course. He mentions one of the slogans encouraged at Magilligan. ‘See beyond the walls,’ he says.
I didn’t chat to any of the other runners during the event. I’m so unfit I could barely speak anyway. Alan Platt had said that prisoners might seek me out as a fresh voice, but none did.
I spoke with a couple of them afterwards about their personal bests and how much their times had improved since they had started the ParkRun. But if you’re trying to escape, the last thing you want is to be reminded why you are there.
You concentrate on the running, on the discipline of running, on the camaraderie of running, on the shared goal of running, on doing what you need to do to finish the course, on measuring yourself against previous times so that you can gauge your progress. Everything else is blocked out. Not for long but for long enough.
There are 1,344 parkrun events in the UK – but few are as eye-opening as this one
‘I’m no slouch,’ said Platt, who has run marathons, ‘but we had one man here who made it his goal to improve so much that he could beat me over 5km at parkrun. When that day came and he overtook me, he was practically skipping the rest of the run.’
The idea of running as a source of hope and purpose for prisoners is enlightened and compassionate and productive and positive and so the initiative at HMP Magilligan is not a lone voice any more.
Before the start of the run on Saturday, Platt introduced me to a prisoner called Colin, who has run more than 170 parkruns inside.
Colin smiled wryly about his total. ‘Some people say to me “what a fantastic achievement”,’ he said. ‘I just say, “that’s an awful lot of time to spend in jail”.’
