05/06/2026
Trust Me, I'm a Dolphin.
The The Northallerton 10K race report.
I arrived early, hoping to be interviewed before the race and gain some attention for the cause. I could hear Thomas, one of the organisers, interviewing Rishi Sunak over the PA system but couldn't see them anywhere. I wandered around trying to spot them through my dolphin head tunnel vision, but it was no good. Off to the start line I went.
The start of the 2026 Northallerton 10k felt like an intense version of my weekly 5k "dolphin" parkrun UK. More smiles, more good lucks, more photos. Helen Hixson was providing much-needed support because, although I was well accustomed to running 5k in a dolphin suit, today was different: a 10k on one of the hottest days of the year.
The irony wasn't lost on me. I was running to raise awareness of the impact of human activity and climate change on the ocean and was about to spend an hour slowly cooking inside a woolly dolphin costume during the hottest May on record.
I've been running parkruns as a dolphin for over a year. After hanging up my running shoes following the 2008 London Marathon—where I dressed as a giant frog to raise money for F.R.O.G.S. (Friends of Great Smeaton School)— Lucy Hixson persuaded me to give parkrun a try. The distance was perfect.
By day, I'm an NHS anaesthetist in County Durham and Darlington NHS Foundation Trust and an Honorary Associate Professor at the University of Exeter. Much of my work involves educating healthcare professionals about sustainability and climate change. The dolphin is my attempt to take those conversations outside the echo chamber and into the real world.
On the morning of the race, I noticed the chin strap on the giant dolphin head had stretched. I then had what can only be described in retrospect as a terrible idea. To stabilise the head, I wore the thinnest beanie I owned underneath it. It only dawned on me later that the beanie was a Patagonia hat specifically designed to keep heat in!
The start was brilliant. Lots of cheers, high-fives ("Give me some fin!") and smiles. It was particularly pleasing to discover that the dolphin had the rare ability to make both children and politicians’ smile. I waved to Helen, looked behind for slightly too long and almost finished my run on Zetland Street after encountering a tree that had inconveniently chosen to grow directly in my path.
The Northallerton 10k is very much a "big up, big down" sort of course. Despite the heat, I found the climb strangely enjoyable. My watch, however, appeared deeply concerned. My heart rate had gone from Zone 1 to Zone 5 almost immediately. Zone 5 is coloured red, which I assume is Garmin way of saying, "You really shouldn't be here."
All I know about Zone 5 is that it's a bit like Everest's Death Zone—best visited briefly and exited promptly.
At halfway came water. I remembered a professional athlete friend telling me that heat stroke would finish me off long before dehydration, so I briefly removed the dolphin head and drenched my Patagonia beanie. I'm certain I heard a sizzle.
By 7km, things were becoming more challenging. Kind spectators armed with hosepipes attempted to cool me down, but much of the water bounced harmlessly off the waterproof dolphin onesie. The descent back towards town provided a welcome breeze through the dolphin's mouth, but by 9km I was running on fumes.
My heart rate had reached 200 beats per minute—the approximate resting heart rate of a small rabbit—and every step required negotiation. I slowed through the underpass near the library to gather myself before emerging onto the High Street. I wanted to cross the finish line with as much dignity as a 56-year-old man dressed as a dolphin could reasonably expect.
The final stretch was wonderful. I did my best to high-five my way towards the finish, although even saying "thank you" was becoming an effort. I saved my last remaining energy for a small leap across the finish line.
The next half hour is something of a blur. I don't think I properly thanked the kind person who presented me with the inaugural Tash Dash fancy dress award. If you're reading this, thank you – a lovely surprise.
Helen eventually extricated me from the dolphin, after which I lay in the shade behind the Town Hall pouring water over myself and wondering whether my tingling arms were a sign of impending catastrophe or merely hyperventilation. Thankfully, it was the latter.
As always happens, the "never again" phase gradually transformed into "actually, I can't wait until next year."
I run parkruns and races as a dolphin because it's unexpected. It makes people smile, and people often ask why. That gives me an opportunity to talk about the ocean and its importance to human health. I usually tell them that roughly half the oxygen we breathe comes from marine photosynthetic organisms and point them towards the Dolphin Runner website to learn more.
For me, the dolphin runner is simply a conversation starter. A slightly ridiculous way of encouraging people to think about the connection between human health and the health of our ocean. Because whether we realise it or not, our wellbeing depends upon it.
If you'd like to follow the dolphin's adventures, learn more about the issues behind the costume, or support the work, please visit the website, follow along on social media, and share the message.
https://cpdmatch.co.uk/dolphin-runner
https://donorbox.org/cpdmatch-2
