After a few runs in November, I decided to give something back and volunteer at the Parkrun.
I plucked up the courage and wrote a letter asking if I could be a photographer at this wonderful event. The reply was brief: ‘We’ve scheduled you for Saturday; be here twenty minutes early.’
I charged my batteries, formatted my memory card, armed myself with a funny hat that could be spotted from a distance, grabbed some water, and marched off to the park – luckily, it’s within walking distance.
I wasn’t at all prepared for what was still in front of me.
I walked along the running track, chose a spot just after the bend, with excellent lighting and a clear background.
Afterwards, I made my way to the start line, introduced myself to the Run Director, and then, armed with a wide-angle lens, set about taking photos to the left and right. I also took part in the ‘First Timers Welcome’ event, which turned out to be well worth it – it meant I could greet runners from New Zealand, Ireland and South Africa on the course, as well as those celebrating milestones and newcomers.
There was a large group from England wearing green T-shirts with their names printed on them – it was brilliant; whenever people heard their own name, they smiled even more broadly.
Another group that stood out in green were the ‘Frogs’ – there’s a runners club like that in Donaupark.
So, I’m at the starting line, the ‘cowbell’ rings, I take a couple of shots, and then I take my time changing the lens.
The leader turned out to be a lad who pushed a pram in front of him for the entire distance. It was actually the first one to come into view through my 55–250mm lens as soon as I’d settled into my chosen spot.
After that, for the next 45 minutes, I didn’t have a moment to take off my rucksack or even have a drink of water. I was frantically trying to photograph everyone and everything, capturing them in the best possible light and in the best possible angle.
The camera’s buffer would stutter from time to time, unable to keep up with writing files to the memory card.
When the main crowd had finished their run, and only the parkwalkers remained, I glanced at the frame counter – 1 390 – and with only 60 frames left, I began to choose my shots more thoughtfully.
Once the tailwalkers had passed, I took some photos of the volunteers, said my goodbyes, and headed home. The camera showed 1 454 shots, with just enough space left for one more.
For all the other volunteers, the work was almost done – they headed to a café, where they sorted the finish tokens, checked the timings, and uploaded the results online.
As it turned out, my work was only just beginning.
For the rest of the weekend, with brief breaks for meals, sleep, and outside walks, I spent my time selecting photos, cropping them, and fixing overexposed areas.
What started as just over an hour of enjoyment — taking an average of one photo every three seconds — turned into 12 hours of intently staring at the screen.
I had already learnt the names of all the runners in green T-shirts. I was delighted by the imposing man in the pink T-shirt, who tried to hide from my camera but gave up on the final lap and ran past in all his glory, giving a thumbs-up.
I was very pleased with the result, happily uploaded 710 sorted and prepared photos to the shared drive, and eagerly awaited their publication on Facebook. I was delighted with every like and comment.
And every minute after spending several hours in front of the screen, I realised how terribly tiring it was. I envied the other volunteers who were calmly enjoying their weekend.
It’s probably hard to believe, but this Saturday I’m volunteering again. As a photographer…