I’m an enthusiastic but average runner, part-time writer, and full-time teacher. As such, I’m often trying to relate writing—something many students dislike—to other activities they may enjoy.
So, while racking up miles on the road this summer, I pondered how running and writing are similar, hoping to spark more interest from the runners in my classes.
Both Running and Writing Require Minimal Gear
A beginning runner needs a decent pair of shoes and some light, comfortable clothing. A beginning writer needs something to write with (pen, keyboard) and something to write on (paper, computer). Sure, helpful add-ons exist for both. Runners may prefer a particular brand of compression socks or energy gels. Writers may gravitate toward certain software or an ergonomically friendly office chair. These extras can make both processes more efficient or less painful, but they aren’t necessary at the start.
Both Benefit from Regular Practice
If you’re athletic, you may run well even without formal training. If you’re highly verbal, you might write a good paper in one draft. But in both cases, you’ll never know how much better you could be without regular, consistent practice.
Both Require Preparation
Granted, the “just do it” philosophy can benefit both runners and writers—but not forever, and not in isolation.
When I was a beginning runner, I’d simply lace up and hit the road. Sometimes I tracked my distance and pace, but often I didn’t. My love of the activity was paramount.
As the miles—and the years—added up, I had to run smarter. Gone were the days of running twice a day, six or seven days a week. To keep crossing finish lines and remain a lifelong runner, I had to become strategic: follow a plan, complete workouts even when I didn’t want to, and listen when my body told me to rest.
Writing is similar. Sure, stream-of-consciousness moments (Anne Lamott’s “shitty first drafts”) are where great ideas are born—just like running fast reminds you why you love the sport. But once the raw idea is there, it needs structure. This means prioritizing time to get the story, essay, novel, or poem on the page—even when you’re not inspired. It means recognizing how a marathon writing session one day might burn you out for the next three. It means brainstorming more effective, practical ways to get the work done.
'When the Student Is Ready, the Teacher Appears'
The runner who’s ready to increase speed or mileage will find no shortage of guidance on doing so safely and efficiently. Likewise, writers can choose from thousands of books, blogs, and videos to elevate their craft.
Both Are Hardest in the Middle
At the start of a run, you’re pumped. Your legs feel light, your head is clear. Near the end, adrenaline kicks in and helps you finish strong. But the middle? That’s where things get tough. Runners can lose focus, bonk, or regret starting too fast.
Writing is no different. A great idea sparks momentum through the first and second pages. But then—wall. Especially with a word count. Like a runner at mile five of a ten-mile workout who hyperfocuses on her distance, students often leave the word counter open, painfully aware they’re at 596 of 1,200 words. Then 597. Then 598.
Screenwriter David Koepp says that when he finds out a writer is on page 71 of a screenplay (the dreaded middle act), he tells them he’s sorry—because it’s “brutal.”
Successful runners learn to run in the moment. The only interval that matters is the one you’re in, and it’s always the last, even if five remain.
Writers must learn the same lesson. Finish the current thought. Make the current point. Worry about the next one later. That next section might be tomorrow’s workout. For now, focus on the sentence in front of you. Hide the word counter—at least until the end of your session.
Perfection Is Impossible
You can be a mediocre runner, a strong runner, or an exceptional runner—but you’ll never be a perfect runner. There’s always some tweak to form or strategy. Even if you run a perfect race, you won’t repeat it every time.
The same goes for writing. You can always improve clarity, brevity, word choice, and audience awareness. You’ll write some very good pieces. But because every piece is different, your approach must change. That means perfection is never possible—and that’s a good thing. These are practices that never grow stale. There will always be techniques to adopt, discard, or refine.
Both Require Reflection
The Nike Run Club coaches, who are often in my ear, talk a lot about the mental side of running. You must be intentional, and that requires thinking about your choices—starting too fast, skipping a run, getting too little sleep, or neglecting to refuel. They recommend a running journal to help reflect and adjust.
Writers benefit from reflection too. Annotating a draft, writing a process reflection, or analyzing the time you spent on a piece (Did you try to do it all in one sitting? With a deadline just hours away?)—all of these can improve your next writing session.
Both Are Solitary and Collaborative
I’m introverted by nature, which partly explains why I enjoy running and writing. On a solo trail run, I control the pace, the path, and the pause points. When I write, I control word choice, sentence structure, and the examples I include.
And yet.
One of the best ways to stay motivated as a runner is to find a partner or group. They’ll inspire you to get out on a chilly morning or talk you down when you’re overly critical of your progress.
Similarly, a writing partner or group keeps a writer focused on the work and its impact. Because they aren’t emotionally attached to the piece, they can ask the hard questions and reveal gaps in logic you may have missed.
Both Can Be Done with Music—or Not
A good running playlist—with upbeat songs when you need speed and slower songs when you need to recover—can be invaluable. (Dad alert: Be safe when running with music on roads.) Similarly, some writers find certain types of music help them focus and push through tough sessions.
But not everyone does. I love running to music, but I can’t write to it. Many students say they write better with earbuds. I tell them: go for it. But if they constantly get stuck, I remind them that it’s okay to decrease the volume—or turn the music off entirely. Be self-aware enough to adjust the variables when you're not getting the results you want.
A good running playlist—with upbeat songs when you need speed and slower songs when you need to recover—can be invaluable. (Dad alert: Be safe when running with music on roads.) Similarly, some writers find certain types of music help them focus and push through tough sessions.
But not everyone does. I love running to music, but I can’t write to it. Many students say they write better with earbuds. I tell them: go for it. But if they constantly get stuck, I remind them that it’s okay to decrease the volume—or turn the music off entirely. Be self-aware enough to adjust the variables when you're not getting the results you want.
Neither Is Linear
In the literal sense, of course, running is linear—you’re journeying from Point A to Point B. But how you get there doesn’t have to be monotonous. Mix it up. Fartleks and interval training can enliven an otherwise boring run, and even in the final miles of a long outing, it’s okay to slow down or speed up for short stretches, just because.
Similarly, while audiences will generally experience your writing in a linear fashion, you don’t have to write it in the order they’ll read it. If you know how the piece ends, write that part first. If the body is already taking shape, finish it before circling back to your introduction. Do what works for you during the drafting phase, and rearrange as needed when you revise.
Both Require Adaptability and Flexibility
My work schedule means I can’t always run at the same time each day. Other obligations may cause me to skip a run or two. Being adaptable means I can find another time or method (like the treadmill in winter) to get the work in.
Writers benefit from the same flexibility. Computer down? Write in longhand on a legal pad. The source you thought would be a slam dunk turns out to be a dead end? Return to the database and try different search terms—or consider interviewing an expert instead of relying solely on secondary sources.
Both Require Selfishness
Friends, spouses, and colleagues can be a great source of support. But sometimes they don’t fully understand the time commitment required for success. A runner or writer committed to growth must occasionally be selfish when carving out time for a run or a writing session. Don’t apologize for that. Accept it as a necessary part of improvement.
A better you is also a better friend, partner, and colleague—so in the long run, the people around you benefit from your dedication, too.
Both Require You to Show Up
You can learn by watching other runners and reading about other writers’ experiences. But at some point, you have to do the work yourself. No one can run for you. Well—they could, but your stand-in would get stronger and leaner, while you’d just remain a spectator.
Likewise, someone else could write your paper, and you could slap your name on it. You might even reap superficial rewards—a good grade, publication, praise. But it’s not your work. More importantly, no one else can fully capture your insights or express your unique conclusions. Those are yours alone, unless you choose to share them on the page. And you should.
Both Are About the Journey
If you focus only on the finish line, you’ll miss the joy and beauty along the way. It might be the deer that crosses your path during an early morning run, or the bond that forms between you and your fellow runners as the miles unfold beneath your feet. Whether or not you achieve all your running goals is secondary if you’ve found value in the journey.
Writing offers similar rewards. It opens new avenues of thought as you explore a topic that matters to you. It builds closeness with your peers through the give-and-take of honest feedback. It gives you the deep satisfaction of crafting something to the best of your ability—and the confidence that with each completed draft, you’re becoming a better communicator.
Enjoy the process.
In the literal sense, of course, running is linear—you’re journeying from Point A to Point B. But how you get there doesn’t have to be monotonous. Mix it up. Fartleks and interval training can enliven an otherwise boring run, and even in the final miles of a long outing, it’s okay to slow down or speed up for short stretches, just because.
Similarly, while audiences will generally experience your writing in a linear fashion, you don’t have to write it in the order they’ll read it. If you know how the piece ends, write that part first. If the body is already taking shape, finish it before circling back to your introduction. Do what works for you during the drafting phase, and rearrange as needed when you revise.
Both Require Adaptability and Flexibility
My work schedule means I can’t always run at the same time each day. Other obligations may cause me to skip a run or two. Being adaptable means I can find another time or method (like the treadmill in winter) to get the work in.
Writers benefit from the same flexibility. Computer down? Write in longhand on a legal pad. The source you thought would be a slam dunk turns out to be a dead end? Return to the database and try different search terms—or consider interviewing an expert instead of relying solely on secondary sources.
Both Require Selfishness
Friends, spouses, and colleagues can be a great source of support. But sometimes they don’t fully understand the time commitment required for success. A runner or writer committed to growth must occasionally be selfish when carving out time for a run or a writing session. Don’t apologize for that. Accept it as a necessary part of improvement.
A better you is also a better friend, partner, and colleague—so in the long run, the people around you benefit from your dedication, too.
Both Require You to Show Up
You can learn by watching other runners and reading about other writers’ experiences. But at some point, you have to do the work yourself. No one can run for you. Well—they could, but your stand-in would get stronger and leaner, while you’d just remain a spectator.
Likewise, someone else could write your paper, and you could slap your name on it. You might even reap superficial rewards—a good grade, publication, praise. But it’s not your work. More importantly, no one else can fully capture your insights or express your unique conclusions. Those are yours alone, unless you choose to share them on the page. And you should.
Both Are About the Journey
If you focus only on the finish line, you’ll miss the joy and beauty along the way. It might be the deer that crosses your path during an early morning run, or the bond that forms between you and your fellow runners as the miles unfold beneath your feet. Whether or not you achieve all your running goals is secondary if you’ve found value in the journey.
Writing offers similar rewards. It opens new avenues of thought as you explore a topic that matters to you. It builds closeness with your peers through the give-and-take of honest feedback. It gives you the deep satisfaction of crafting something to the best of your ability—and the confidence that with each completed draft, you’re becoming a better communicator.
Enjoy the process.
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