Running and writing

In a year that has been characterised by the restriction, prohibition and curtailment of many of the things I enjoy, there are two activities I’ve found myself doing more of: running and writing.

At first glance, these two passions seem to be diametrically opposite. When I write, I retreat into my head, where I mine the grey matter for fragments – memories, ideas, characters – to shape into stories that I transcribe, rooted to my desk. When I run, I fully inhabit my body. The sounds and sensations of physical effort – footstrike, heartbeat, sweat – drown out the whirling carousel of thoughts.

Despite their differences, though, there are parallels. Running and writing are both solitary endeavours (even when we run with others, our struggles and successes are ours alone). They both demand – at times – that we dig deep, keep going, don’t give up. They can both be cathartic.

I’ve also found that running and writing can be complementary. If I’ve been sat for hours, my bum going numb, my corneas drying out as I stare at the screen, there’s nothing more restorative than getting out for a run. I can let my mind doze in the back seat while my body steers. And sometimes, when I’m least expecting it, solutions to tricky twists present themselves, ideas drop in – as if the movement of running has itself shaken things into place.

Conversely, running – especially long distances – has taught me to be brave, to look inside myself to see if there’s more to give. It’s also taught me commitment and patience (you don’t embark on a novel with no previous writing practice, just as you don’t embark on a marathon without some training).

I’m far from the first runner to notice that running can help the writing process. Reflecting on her writing methods in an article in The New York Times, author and lifelong runner Joyce Carol Oates wrote: ‘Running seems to allow me, ideally, an expanded consciousness in which I can envision what I’m writing as a film or dream.’ I can’t lay claim to an expanded consciousness when I slip into my trainers after a hard day chipping away at the writer’s block, but there’s some evidence that working up a sweat can also fire up the imagination. For example, a 2014 study at Stanford University found a bout of exercise improved creativity better than that other well-known writer’s strategy – sitting and staring into space.

There are two key aspects to creative thinking. Convergent thinking is about problem-solving – such as getting a crossword clue – and success is measured in terms of accuracy and speed. Divergent thinking is an open-ended type of thinking, one that demands more from your imagination. (This is the one that’s more likely to help you construct a backstory that explains your protagonist’s actions.)

In studies, the ‘alternative-uses test’ is often employed to assess divergent thinking. Subjects are asked to come up with as many novel uses as possible for everyday items – such as a pen or a tin can – and scored on how many they can think of and how varied and original those uses are. Studies have found that people score more highly after exercise than before – or without – it. In the Stanford University research, creativity was assessed not only with the alternative-uses test, but with something more familiar to writers – the creation of analogies. Divergent thinking improved in 81 per cent of the participants after physical activity, compared with sitting still.  

It’s not clear what’s behind the creativity boost – though increased oxygen to the brain has been shown to help cognitive processes, so there’s no reason to think it’s not at least partway responsible. And other research suggests aerobic exercise stimulates a substance called brain-derived neurotrophic factor (BDNF), which boosts cell production in the hippocampus, an area of the brain associated with memory and imagination.

Whatever the exact mechanisms behind the link between running and creativity, next time I find myself struggling to find the right words in the face of a deadline, I think I’ll run for it.