Writing About Writing About Running

Diederik v. H. in Central Park

Although I never took his class, the wisdom of a much-revered Columbia University Journalism professor stayed with me since it was passed on to me by one of his students. Don’t go looking for your debut, he would tell aspiring authors in his book writing class. It will find you.

Since graduating in the 1990s I would occasionally struggle with the anxiety familiar to any not-quite-there-yet writer. When will I ever write that first book? And what on earth will it be about? Recalling the lesson of the book ‘coming to you’ would often calm me down. Try to trust that it will simply, unexpectedly present itself, I told myself - like a great love.

When my book found me exactly a year ago, I was still stunned. The idea of De rennende Hollander (Dutch for The Running Dutchman) came to me with a such unusual clarity that it took me moment to realize that this was it. The first book! One reason I was a little slow recognizing the signs was that I never expected to write about myself, or running, or me running.

Four, even two years ago I couldn’t have imagined this. As a journalist I shunned the ‘I’, ‘me’ and ‘mine’. My stories were intended to be distant and impartial. Not only did I not write about myself - I tried to be invisible as a writer. Moreover, I was barely what I’d call a runner at all, until I joined the Flyers in the early days of 2009.

The tough magazine assignment it all started with.

Then I gradually discovered how running brought me joy, good health, inner peace, self-confidence and new friends. I used to proclaim that ‘people don’t really change’. Now, I was changing. Running was changing me.

The notion of writing about it started to grow on me. Just a few words, maybe? Why not, really? I had been devouring the books of Dean Karnazes, Pam Reed, Christopher McDougall, and especially Haruki Murakami. They helped and inspired me. They were writers and runners, like I was. Why wouldn’t I share my experiences, like they did?

An assignment editor at the weekend magazine of my newspaper in Holland agreed. So I sat down - and struggled with 2500 words. I have cranked out many a magazine feature of that length in a day. This one took me weeks. I couldn’t find my flow, rhythm or tone. When I had filed the piece, I craved the satisfaction and liberation I generally feel after hitting ‘send’. It wasn’t there.

An alternative book cover.

‘Re-write’ is not a phrase we love to hear. Thankfully, I rarely hear it. This time the editor was clear. You have some good stuff, he said. Start over.

There was only one way. I cleared my schedule and spent two days furiously writing. The words suddenly came in waves. When it was done, it was good. I did not love the photos of coach Toby Tanser and me. But the story about gradual change through running looked all right.

I have never received so much feedback to anything I have written, and I doubt I ever will. Among the many reactions were two emails from publishers in Amsterdam. One of them would print my book within a year.

Writing about running proved to be liberating. I had a story to tell. Many stories, in fact - about running and living in New York, being a part of the Flyers, camaraderie through running, my childhood, triumphs and fears and dreams - they all spilled out of me. It was like therapy, Central Park being the shrink’s couch, my Mac the ever-patient shrink.

Once again, the writing process was, at first, scary. But after struggling I followed another piece of advice from a book-writing friend. Write like no one else will ever read. Let it out, she told me. You’ll deal with the world later.

She was right, and I did. Book writing turned out to be just as exciting and interesting as running marathons. It takes time and patience. Think, trust, and learn the distance and course. Over-confident first timers will stumble, as I have. Exprience counts, as I discovered. But when the flywheel is at its optimum speed --Murakami’s metaphor-- long-form writing and long-distance running can be equally gratifying and soul-warming.

Selling the book at the Amsterdam Marathon expo

As a general assignment reporter I cover a wide variety of stories. One day I’ll be at the United Nations in New York, the next at a college football game in Texas. I talk to fallen CEOs and inspiring teachers, corrupt politicians and young filmmakers. Over the past few months alone I wrote about the Tea Party, the Democratic Party, the track star-turned-pro-basketball player Marion Jones, Boardwalk Empire creator Terence Winter, the Los Angeles River and the BP oil spill. I clearly do not believe that one needs personal experience or PhD level knowlegde to cover these subjects.

But I do now believe that a deeply felt sense of your subject is helpful when writing a first book. It’s a tough process, not unlike a first 26.2 miles. Knowing what you’re doing --and believing that you really do-- is key. The book found me because it was about stuff I know a little something about: my self and my running.
- Diederik van Hoogstraten