RUN FOR THE TREES | WESTONBIRT 10K

This blog post about running the Westonbirt 10k event also features my regular collaboration with adidas.

Note: This adventure took place in March 2025, before this happened. 

On the evening of 21 May, I laced up my trainers for the Westonbirt 10k – my first event of its kind in years. A leafy trail through one of England’s most enchanting arboretums, the event promised a celebration of nature and momentum.

I’d signed up months before, more as a nudge than a declaration, a gentle pact with myself to keep running, to keep going. Life, of course, had other plans. A cracked rib threw training sideways with just a few weeks to go, and the rhythm I’d hoped to establish became more sporadic than steadfast. But I showed up. I ran. I finished. And that’s a tale worth telling.

Run For the Trees

At the start of the year, I’d scribbled “run a 10k” on my 2025 Bingo Card – one of those optimistic little squares that felt slightly fanciful at the time. Not a resolution, but a promise to myself to give some of my year over to working on my fitness. So, when I began considering events and challenges that might help me stay accountable to this particular goal, I wasn’t picturing medals or rankings. Rather, I was looking for something just beyond my reach at the time, with a set date. This was a gentle commitment. A reason to lace up my trainers even when the sofa whispered sweet nothings.

Westonbirt, Forestry England’s National Arboretum, sits just outside Tetbury in Gloucestershire. It’s a sprawling 600-acre haven of rare and remarkable trees. I’d visited way back in 2020, on a damp but glorious Saturday in October. We wandered paths ablaze with autumn colour, marvelling at Japanese maples that put my bright trainers to shame, and tracing the velvety bark of Coastal Redwoods. Sequoias have my heart, and Westonbirt’s, though modest compared to those in California, still held something deeply grounding.

The arboretum is more than beautiful, it’s a living library of over 15,000 specimens and 2,500 tree species, cared for by Forestry England and contributing to conservation and research. But for me, it was a place that lingered in my memory. So, when a friend mentioned the Westonbirt 10k, saying “It’s called Run for the Trees, looks right up your street”, the name alone felt like an invitation. I signed up, not with bravado, but with quiet resolve. I wanted to run. And it felt right that trees would be part of that story.

Training Tales and Setbacks

Given this would be my first run of this kind in 11 years, I wanted to do this properly.

The idea wasn’t just to show up, it was to show up prepared. Back in January, I asked the adidas Running app to build me a 16-week programme. I committed to two runs a week, pairing those with my usual hiking routine and other exercise habits to gently build fitness. Having the Westonbirt 10k in the diary kept me motivated, it gave structure to my week and purpose to each run. Mondays became interval days, Thursdays were for long steady ones, and I even treated myself to news running shoes as a quiet nod to my commitment. More on my kit in a bit.

For weeks and weeks, I stuck to it. Mostly, anyway. There were blips, of course, such as a stinking cold knocking me out for a week. Still, I’d done the groundwork and figured a short pause wouldn’t undo it all.

Then came that fall at Center Parcs.

The pain in my ribs was excruciating, and everything – running, hiking, moving – had to stop. As a result, in the six weeks before the 10k, I managed just two runs. One, two full weeks into recovery, taught me (rather sternly) that it was far too soon. The other, a week before the event, was a tentative toe in the water – a ‘what happens if?’ sort of test.

It turns out, having an event in the diary can be both blessing and burden. While it inspired discipline early on, it started to loom a little too large once injury entered the chat. I found myself stressed about a deadline that should have been joyful. My brain is stupid sometimes. Or maybe just stubborn. Or hopeful.

I Nearly Didn’t Go.

Five weeks on from cracking my rib, the pain lingered, and I was torn between self-preservation and that stubborn hope. Would showing up push me past what my body was ready for? Was I risking a bigger setback for the sake of a £21 entry fee and an old promise to myself?

When I mentioned on the Tuesday evening – the night before – that I was thinking of just skipping it, my husband gently urged me to go anyway. “Worst case,” he said, “you walk after the first stretch, and it’ll make for a pretty nice sunset walk through the woods.” He was right, of course. As he often was.

All the Gear…

I arrived at Westonbirt in my finest running regalia. Not because I needed to impress anyone, but because sometimes new kit gives you a bit of a boost (I wrote something about that a while ago). I’d gone all in: running shoes, fancy lightweight joggers, a lovely tee. I figured if I looked the part, I might just feel it, too.

With a little help from adidas thanks to my ongoing collaboration, I was kitted out in gear that genuinely kept me comfortable and feeling ready:

• Ultrarun 5 Running Shoes: With Bounce cushioning and a breathable mesh upper, these are ideal for someone who wants a decent running shoe without the expense of the latest technology. The durable outsole was more than up to the task, even on woodland tracks. There are more ladies black trainers here.
• Own the Run Joggers: I hate shorts, so chose full length running joggers. They are moisture-wicking and lightweight, with zipped side pockets and reflective detailing.
• Own the Run T-Shirt: Now my favourite tee for any exercise, this is designed to stay fresh and dry, with reflective touches that kept me visible through the evening light. It’s such a nice shape and fit – I must order another one.

And yet, standing at the start line, I couldn’t help but feel a twinge of intimidation. Around me were serious runners in club vests, shoes with complex tread patterns, hydration packs, and oversized GPS watches. Despite my excellent adidas kit, and it really is excellent, I was just me. No running vest, no fancy footwear, no tracking tech, not even a water bottle (don’t worry, the organisers promised hydration stations).

I felt a bit like a very well-dressed imposter. But then again, perhaps showing up as myself – in kit that gave me comfort, confidence, and joy – was more than enough.

Just Keep Running

As the long line of runners shuffled forward towards the start, I found my spot near the back and made a quiet decision: just keep running. No pressure on speed, no grand expectations, just forward motion. This wasn’t a race. I just had to keep going.

I settled into a steady pace, music in my ears (a rare indulgence, but one that kept me moving), and plodded my way around the course, as light on my feet as I could manage to avoid too much jiggling of my ribs. Apart from a brief pause at the halfway water station – because pouring water down my front wasn’t on the agenda – I ran the whole thing. Slowly, steadily, without stopping.

The evening was glorious. Warm, bright, and dappled with woodland shade. I generally run in the morning, but this twilight event brought something gentle and golden to the experience. The trees were stunning, of course, but there wasn’t time to stop and admire, let alone to hug one (tempting though it was…)!

Thanks to a little pre-run studying of the map, I knew what to expect: a climb midway through, and another in the final kilometre. The terrain stayed mostly kind with compact quarry stone, tarmac paths, and a couple of cheeky patches of gravel and (well signposted) exposed roots to keep things interesting. And all around, marshals stood cheering at each bend, while friends and families clapped and called encouragement to the runners they came to support.

I didn’t feel fast, or flawless. But I felt weirdly determined. Present. Proud, maybe. Even finding time to smile as marshals acknowledged me. And surrounded by a quiet sense of camaraderie as people bounded, shuffled, strode, and surged their way through the trees.

The Finish Line

I had just enough in the tank to give it a little welly at the end. Funny how hearing your name echo across the Tanoy, shouted with cheerful gusto by someone who’s probably been doing it for the entire evening, can stir up hidden reserves. I pushed the pace, just a touch, and crossed the line, doing my best to smile in celebration.

A woman placed a medal around my neck: a simple, beautiful wooden maple leaf. I took a cup of water, and stopped. Just… stopped. I let the breath come back. Let the moment sink in. And let myself feel what it meant to finish.

My time was 1 hour, 10 minutes, and 30 seconds. And honestly? I felt content. It was a perfectly respectable result for someone recovering from injury, someone who nearly didn’t show up, someone who just wanted to run through the trees. Turns out I’m not as unfit as I’d feared.

Or maybe I’m just more stubborn than I realised.

Event Reflections

Run for the Trees lived up to its name – and then some.

The Westonbirt 10k was an excellently run event, with just the right scale: large enough to feel communal, small enough to avoid the crush. Signage was clear, marshals were plentiful and cheering, and the whole evening had a joyful rhythm. The starting loo queue looked daunting but moved surprisingly fast (always a bonus). Parking was well organised, and although busy on the way out, it never tipped into chaos.

The course itself was thoughtfully designed; well-marked, varied underfoot, and interesting throughout thanks to the stunning backdrop of Westonbirt Arboretum. Running through that landscape of golden light and layered greens added a quiet magic to every turn. The water station came at the right moment, the chip was built right into the number bib (no fiddly extras), and while there was no goody bag, the medal – a  simple wooden maple leaf – felt just right.

And for £23.10 (£21 entry plus £2.10 fee), it felt like good value, too. A beautiful setting, a well-run evening, and a sense of shared purpose across the whole leafy course.

A Perfect Sunset

There’s something quietly powerful about deciding to show up – and then doing just that. This run wasn’t about pace or pressure, it was about resilience. The decision to go, the steady rhythm once it began, the ache and the glow at the end: they all stitched together into a kind of personal triumph. I ran through trees I love, in a body still mending, surrounded by strangers all chasing their own silent goals. And I didn’t stop.

Driving home, I witnessed the most perfect sunset spilling across the valley. They call it the Golden Valley here for a reason, and on that evening, I saw why. I had to pull over, just for a moment, to take it in. A quiet punctuation mark at the end of something I nearly didn’t do.

So, I suppose I keep running now. Not with grand ambitions or longer distances, at least not yet. People have suggested a half marathon, but for now, just running a bit just right. I remember chasing a sub-hour time once, but that’s not the point anymore. I want to feel fit and strong – and I want movement to bring me ease. Truth is, I don’t feel great just now, my rib recovery continues, and tragedy has been sent my way. But that evening at Westonbirt reminded me what I can do when I show up.

Still Running to the Trees

Looking back now, this run somehow carries even more significance than I could have imagined at the time. Just days later, life shifted in ways I wasn’t ready for, and yet I’m grateful I went. That evening, I didn’t just run for the trees – it became something quieter and deeper. A showing of strength, of intention, of movement. And the trees, as ever, reminded me to keep going. Their presence still holds me. Their persistence inspires me.

And I will keep running to the trees.

I am a member of the adidas blogger community. As part of this, I receive vouchers to spend on adidas gear of my choosing. The running gear mentioned in this post were all been purchased using these gift vouchers. Thanks adidas!