Santa Run

Article by: © Ian Everett 2012

Surreal was not the right word. The sea of crimson that stretched behind me deserved something more than that. This was more of a crazed hallucinogenic trip, a dream that I could wake up from at any second. This was either the work of a madman or a genius. But, as they say, 'when in Rome...'

The mass of santas surrounding me jammed the road with red as far back as I could see. Ahead of me stood a giant inflatable gorilla wearing a suitably vast red santa hat. "Don't worry," I said to myself, "this is all quite normal."

Infact this bizarre gathering of santas is fast becoming an annual event in this part of Wales. Every December thousands of santas from across the world flood into Newtown, packing themselves into the high street like a jar of cranberries, all with the aim of raising some money for charity and helping to set the world record for the biggest santa gathering and the biggest santa run.

The population of Newtown doubles for this event, and due to the vast influx of santas it's actually only the spectators in non-festive attire who attract the strange looks. The small children with beards and dogs with antlers that stood around me were not even afforded a double take.

I'd sent off my entry form for this run several months previously. It had seemed like 'a good idea at the time' - the same reason i'd taken part in runs in various other countries during my travels. In every instance however, it didn't seem like such a good idea when my muscles began burning and my lungs were closing up like a clam. Why do people run? It's just not natural.

This santa run was only 4.5 miles though, a quick dash out of town and back, with an optional stop at a pub for those who could stomach alcohol before midday. Taking a ready position, I listened for the starters gun. It's loud crack echoed out over the loadspeakers and springing forward like a realsed coil, I began to shuffle slowly forward, sardined by several hundred other santas. I glanced back over my shoulder, a long trail of red was sluggishly wiggling its way down the road behind me.

Wales is famed for its scenery, its majestic, snow capped mountains and deep green valleys creating the impression that the country was crumpled up like waste paper on its creation. As I ran up a hill, however, sweat stung in my eyes, blinding me to the beauty that surrounded me; together with 4000 santas charging up the hill with me, this probably wasn't the best time for sight-seeing.

After just under forty minutes I sprinted across the finishing line with a victory wave for the decent sized crowd had turned out to cheer the santas in. Santas were everywhere. The mothers with pushchairs in the crowd were probably puzzling over how to explain this to their children. Surreal was not the right word. The santarun deserves more than that.

Santa Run Dates, Location and Further Information

Each December (oddly enough) in the Welsh town of Newtown

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