How Writing is Like Running

By Kait Carson

Many of you know I’m a runner. More when I lived in Florida than now. Maine has these things called hills. Something I never trained on and tend to avoid. Still, come spring and early summer, I’m out there running the circumference of our mowed field. On the hill. I should know better.

My running days began in the 1970s. I belonged to The Book of the Month Club, and I bought Jim Fixx’s book, The Complete Book of Running. I ran daily until Son of Sam appeared and murdered women in Kissena Park, six houses from mine and home to my running trail. Screech. Slide to a stop. After Sam’s capture, I took up the sport again, and then we lost Jim Fixx. Running might not be all it was cracked up to be, and I stopped.

Then I started working for lawyers. I’m sorry. I know several of my blogmates are Bar members, but truly, lawyers were the proximate cause of my rededication to the sport. Legal work is stressful. Running provided an outlet, and all the law firms I worked for fielded teams for the Miami Corporate Run. I never was much for racing. Not that I’m not competitive. Boy howdy, I am. It’s just that I’m SSSSSLLLLLOOOOWWWW, but preparing for and running is a great team-building exercise and it’s fun. Group suffering is the best.

What in the Sam Hill (who was Sam Hill? Anyone know?) does any of this have to do with writing? Oh, more than you think.

The hardest part of running isn’t ticking off miles. It’s lacing up the shoes. The hardest part of writing isn’t accumulating the word count. It’s butt in chair, fingers on keyboard. Once you get past the prelims, clear sailing. Not.

As with running, writing, at least my writing, proceeds in fits and starts. New ideas bring endless hours of plotting, pounding out chapters, working up characters, red herrings, clues, and research. Then, here comes the hill. Life gets in the way, or something doesn’t flow, or, and this happened to me twice, a key bit of story changes or disappears and it’s back to the drawing board. The setbacks may be temporary or permanent, but either way, they slow you down, or, in the case of losing a publisher (or agent) put your writing life on hold.

Then there are the days, weeks, and months when the ideas flow and you wish for a second set of hands to pound the keyboard. In running, this is called the runner’s high. It’s a real thing, and it is directly analogous to a writer’s high. When it’s good, it’s good, and the author knows it. Those are moments to crave and cherish. True confessions—I’m in one of those periods now, and I wish I could bottle it.

As an aside, lawyers figured in my writing life as well, and they are the reason I use a pen name. You see, in my first book, I killed off a lawyer. The book was a work of fiction, but after twenty years in the legal field, people knew me, and the firms I worked for, and I wanted to avoid the ever-popular game of pin the crime on the attorney!

How about you? Where are you in your writing life? Smooth sailing, on hold, or laboring up the hill?

Kait Carson writes the Hayden Kent Mysteries, set in the Fabulous Florida Keys, and is at work on a new mystery series set in her adopted state of Maine. Her short fiction has been nationally published in the True Confessions magazines and in Woman’s World. Kait’s short story, “Gutted, Filleted, and Fried”, appeared in the Silver Falchion Award nominated Guppy Anthology Hook, Line, and Sinker. Her nonfiction essay was included in the Agatha Award-winning book Writing the Cozy Mystery. She is a former President of the Guppy Chapter of Sisters in Crime, a member of Sisters in Crime, and Guppies.

 

Sweat and Storytelling

My boxing coach insists that I need to be running. Apparently pounding the heavy bag, lifting weights, and performing rep after rep of crunches and push-ups and squats aren't enough training. And so my classmates and I slather on the sunscreen, pop in our earbuds, and head out into the ninety-four-degree heat for a pre-workout slog around the park.

I hate every second of it. The sweat stings my eyes and the sunlight beats me about the head and face like a mugger. Every step feels like I'm moving through sludge, and with the humidity at almost one hundred percent, I literally am. The air is heavy and still and thick, and I am no natural athlete. I have no generous allotments of either fast-twitch or slow-twitch muscles. I am a plodder. I have come to accept this about myself.

But I run anyway. And my coach is right — it makes me a better boxer. It keeps my legs well-muscled and my cardio capacity strong. But then, so would a host of other physical activities. The real reason I run, the one that keeps me lacing up those athletic shoes, is what running does for my writerly brain, which gets stronger and more capable with every step I take.

I'm not the only writer to have noticed the cognitive and creative benefits of running, of course. Many famous authors, including Joyce Carol Oates, are also runners. Three of the authors in my own creative circle have completed half-marathons with dang fine times, but the prowess is not the point. The point is one foot in front of the other. Rinse and repeat.

Scientists have noticed this correlation. Some connect it to the pattern of brain waves known as gamma rhythm, typically controlled by attention and learning, but also governed by, apparently, how quick one is on one’s feet. As researcher Mayank Mehta of the University of California, Los Angeles, explains, there is "an interesting link between the world of learning and the world of speed." Other studies show that vigorous physical exercise literally creates new neurons, and it makes them in the region of the brain associated with learning and memory. Running also increases blood flow to the frontal lobes, the place where clear thinking and good planning happen, and provides support for emotional regulation and recovery. Though researchers remain unsure how that latter result comes about, they have documented that it does.

I regularly do other physical activities, but nothing primes the creative pump like running. During a good run, it's as if my body goes into autopilot mode, letting my brain hang out and enjoy the ride. Boxing and swimming and yoga all require mindfulness—I must be present in my body every second of the time. My thoughts are not allowed to wander because I need them to keep my fighting stance, or my alignment in a pose, or my head above water when I need to breathe. Running lets me experience mindlessness, a kind of mental anti-gravity that's both useful and refreshing.

And so I run, even in the summer. My body and brain are the better for it, and so are my stories. 

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Tina Whittle writes the Tai Randolph mysteries for Poisoned Pen Press. The fifth book in this Atlanta-based series—Reckoning and Ruin—was released in April. Tina is a proud member of Sisters in Crime and serves as both a chapter officer and national board member. Visit her website to follow her on social media, sign up for her newsletter, or read additional scenes and short stories: www.tinawhittle.com.