creative writing about running away

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running away - quotes and descriptions to inspire creative writing

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Running away is running toward something else, perhaps it is a better future you seek?

When it is foolish to stay, the courage for running away must be summoned for your survival.

Bravery is the sweet-spot on a spectrum from cowardice to fool hardy. There are times when running away is that sweet-spot, when it is the brave choice. It is all a matter of circumstance, trust your instinct on which has arisen.

When the emotional circuits are burning out from constant overload, when other avenues for load reduction have been exhausted, running away is wise.

Running away is running a way, running a path both from and toward. It is all a matter of perspective.

Running away was the scariest and smartest thing I ever did - everyone should feel safe in their home.

Running away from pain and toward even the smallest chance for hope is great wisdom.

When the body and brain both are on overload and running away is the only chance to survive, you run.

Running away can be a permanent solution to a temporary problem. Life on the streets is brutal. What are you running towards? Make a plan. I've seen kids blow things way out of perspective and run from loving homes. It's a thing. Then there are those that have real problems of abuse and need some place to bolt to, anywhere that will love and nurture them back to health. Best advice, get some proper counselling from a trusted adult and be honest about your situation.

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Write that Scene

May your writing spirit live on forever

How to Write a Running Scene

Make sure the location is already familiar to the audience before this scene. You might find it easier.

» A. You can either give basic details or full blown description.

I. Refer to certain places or landmarks before, that way they’ll paint a clearer picture than if you’re constantly stopping to describe the places the character’s running through. Example 1: The same store was located on Elmert Street for fifty years. It stayed open 24/7 with numerous entrances to take in the numerous shoppers. I went there on occasion. Today happened to be different. Up ahead, the city’s biggest store outlet with greenery planted as far as the eye can see, and where all the citizen’s shopped for the holidays. Only ten more days for Christmas and everyone, including John May, was excited. John May, a grumpy man, who some say was crazy, never got along with anyone, especially me. We were born to be enemies and nothing would change that.

» B. Tell the reader why the character is running early on, especially if you’re opening up the story with this scene.

I. Could it be that a monster is after them and they need to get to safety quick? Or maybe it’s a cold-blooded murder that has no remorse after killing the character’s friend. II. Another reason the character could be running is because they heard some good or bad news and they need to get to the place to hear further details? Overall, you decide. Example 2:

Walking my way over to the outlet, I notice a crowd gathering. Now, I happened to be pretty far but the sight was plain obvious. People from the Elmert Street store came rushing out to see for themselves.

“What’s going on?” I asked a stranger.

“Someone had a heart attack and they’re waiting for an ambulance.”

“Oh my god. Who?” I covered my mouth.

The stranger smiled. “John May.”

Gasp! Was my wish coming true? If he died this could be an early Christmas present. “I got to get over there,” I said, stretching my limbs and preparing to run. The outlet had to be half a mile away at least but this would be worth it. I needed to take pictures. If John May, the man who tortured me as a kid, called my mom names and made my young life a living hell, was finally about to die, then I had to see this. I just had too.

Make the reader feel connected to the character.

» A. Have the reader empathize with the pursued – rather than the pursuer.

I. Add more of how the character feels, their emotions and what they’re thinking; it will really emphasize the reality of this danger situation. II. Make the reader feel the protagonist’s fear. Keep things firmly from their point of view. Think of all the little details they might see when rushing by, the physical sensations of running from someone or something dangerous. III. How does he/she know the chaser is still behind them? What are the details of the threat? What is ahead of the character – what safe place are they trying to reach? IV. Imagine if the pursuer is so close the character can hear their breath! What about if the character inflicts injury on the pursuer? What about if it was the other way around? (How would this affect the rest of the chase?) Example 3:

Pushing my arms back and forth, I jetted to my destination, jumping over small pot holes, dodging insects that wanted to suck my blood clean, and pumping my legs as fast as they could go. Once I made it to the greenery, I zoomed under the shades of trees as if I was soaring like an eagle on a mission. No way was I going to miss witnessing John lying on the ground vulnerable. I just hope no one tries to help him up. Even worse, I hope the E.R. doesn’t make it in time. Yeah, yeah, yeah, call me a jerk all you want but if you what John May did to not only me but the whole town, you’d be wishing far worse things for him, too.

The crowd was getting bigger; so many people were taking pictures and staring at what lied in front of them: a cold body; a bitter man; a lone ranger.

My breathing was labored, my legs were tired and the wind was just torturing my eyes. I wiped away several tears; not because I was crying. Don’t twist the truth!

» B. Write the chase out as a sequence of events, almost like mini-scenes.

I. First list what happens before you start writing, then you’ll always know where you’re heading. II. Adding events to a chase will increase the action and suspense. Be sure not to go overboard, though – it might end up sounding comical. Example 4: Then I saw it. The ambulance came rushing around the corner with their sirens on. Not good. I only had a few more thrust until I made, or so it seemed. I had to get to Mr. May before they did or I’d never forgive myself. I needed to see the miserable face of his, I need to soak it in for years to come.

What is the end result? What happens to your beloved character?

» A. Choose a way she is saved. Either by sheer luck or ingenious planning?

I. The pursuer can’t all of a sudden become tired, that is a lame way to get out a scene. However, if the pursuer is human they can’t show signs of fatigue. Maybe slowing down, breathing heavier or stopping momentarily to catch their breath. Meanwhile the protagonist is zigzagging, trying to get out of sight. Or, they could be banging on someone’s door for help. II. Don’t resort to Deus ex Machina. This means a random being or object just pops out of nowhere to save our frightened character. The reader will not like that. So, to avoid this I would recommend foreshadowing. Let’s say three blocks ago the character saw a knife on the ground (for some strange reason). Then maybe they can run all the way back to that particular block to go get the knife. To matters even more interesting would be if the knife wasn’t there anymore. III. Try not to reveal the ending through the character’s thoughts. You can give hints but don’t overwhelm the reader with random, unnecessary insight. Example 5:

Three more leaps and I made it. I threw my arms in the air for victory. Without much thought, I pushed people to the side, to get through the throng and over to John May. Not too long later my eyes beheld him, lying on the ground, stiff just like I imagined. The second I whipped out my phone to take a picture of him, his eyes opened and he stared straight at me.

“Joe,” he said, slowly, “I’m sorry.” And then he took his last breath. Soon the paramedics came in with a stretcher to collect the body. I didn’t know what to think. Many people were staring at me, wondering why Mr. May said what he said. I just shrugged my shoulders; I was in the same boat they were in.

» B. Will this be the end or will there be a twist?

I. You can add the fact that the chaser is working with someone else and he/she going to get the protagonist one way or another. II. Maybe the protagonist is actually a murderer who was running away from someone who wanted revenge. III. Adding a twist is not necessary, however, for a chase scene, it does make things more interesting. Maybe you can leave out the reason why the character is getting chased until the final sentences of the scene. Example 6:

I crossed my arms. Joe wasn’t even my name so why did he say it to me. My name was Trevor, everyone knew that.

“Trevor!” I heard a voice call out. “What was that all about.” It was my friend Jamison. He hated Mr. May almost as much as I did.

I began to walk away from the scene just like everyone else was. “I don’t know,” I said a bit irritated. “But, why do you think he had a heart attack?”

Jamison furrowed his eyebrows. “You don’t know?”

I shook my head. “What are you talking about?”

Jamison leaned over to whisper in my ear. Not a second later I backed away from him out of fear. “Tell me it isn’t true,” I shouted.

Jamison came up to me and put a solid hand on my shoulder. “You didn’t know what you were doing. You were sleep walking,” he said calmly. “No one has to know what really happened, okay?” A devious smile crossed his face. “One thing’s for sure…” he looked around to make sure no one was listening, “Mr. May deserved it.” Then he laughed an evil laugh.

!You might have to scroll down the textbox with your mouse!

The same store was located on Elmert Street for fifty years. It stayed open 24/7 with numerous entrances to take in the numerous shoppers. I went there on occasion. Today happened to be different. Up ahead, the city’s biggest store outlet with greenery planted as far as the eye can see, and where all the citizen’s shopped for the holidays. Only ten more days for Christmas and everyone, including John May, was excited. John May, a grumpy man, who some say was crazy, never got along with anyone, especially me. We were born to be enemies and nothing would change that. Walking my way over to the outlet, I notice a crowd gathering. Now, I happened to be pretty far but the sight was plain obvious. People from the Elmert Street store came rushing out to see for themselves.

I started running in the direction of the outlet. I hadn’t had a car so there was no point in me driving there. How could I anyway? My mind swarmed with so many questions. Did he die? Does this mean my life is going to be perfect now? Does he have children, if so are they going to sell if stuff because I want to? For a split second I actually had a heart and my eyes watered from the thought of someone dying. Or maybe that was just the wind since my feet were carrying me fast. Pushing my arms back and forth, I jetted to my destination, jumping over small pot holes, dodging insects that wanted to suck my blood clean, and pumping my legs as fast as they could go. Once I made it to the greenery, I zoomed under the shades of trees as if I was soaring like an eagle on a mission. No way was I going to miss witnessing John lying on the ground vulnerable. I just hope no one tries to help him up. Even worse, I hope the E.R. doesn’t make it in time. Yeah, yeah, yeah, call me a jerk all you want but if you what John May did to not only me but the whole town, you’d be wishing far worse things for him, too.

The crowd was getting bigger; so many people were taking pictures and staring at what lied in front of them: a cold body; a bitter man; a lone ranger. My breathing was labored, my legs were tired and the wind was just torturing my eyes. I wiped away several tears; not because I was crying. Don’t twist the truth! Then I saw it. The ambulance came rushing around the corner with their sirens on. Not good. I only had a few more thrust until I made, or so it seemed. I had to get to Mr. May before they did or I’d never forgive myself. I needed to see the miserable face of his, I need to soak it in for years to come.

Three more leaps and I made it. I threw my arms in the air for victory. Without much thought, I pushed people to the side, to get through the throng and over to John May. Not too long later my eyes beheld him, laying on the ground, stiff just like I imagined. The second I whipped out my phone to take a picture of him, his eyes opened and he stared straight at me.

5 thoughts on “ How to Write a Running Scene ”

CAN SOMEONE HELP ME CONTINUE THIS SCENE? I GOT AN IDEA BUT DON’T KNOW HOW TO DEVELOP IT:

She has amnesia yet chose to move on over figuring out who was. She has Ptsd she can’t recall incident but after a attack she met a man who scarily resemble the one in her head (This guy did actually hurt her btw but he wasnt in control of his actions in the slightest at the time. The duo were actually strong partners in a platonic sense). After he body tackled her out of the way of an attack he was trying to stop she noticed him and freaked out and is running from him and her old teammates thinking he is out to kill her or something. I haven t really mentioned what he looks like in this (his name is Bryar) and there are four other people with him. Feel free to change or exchange for your version. Plausible spring up panic/ ptsd attack would be appreciated but not minded. Thnx!

“Let me paint you a picture. The heart of a bustling city; the air awash with the smell of coffee and the sight of hundreds of people on the warm summer day. Now imagine this scene blurring past in an adrenaline infused dash of colours. A stray fiery haired woman, tall and lithe with bright hazel eyes, hurdle over a florist display and force themselves through the current of people in a bid to escape their pursuers. This is Veronica, and she isn’t alone. A glance back revealed her pursuers, her focus mainly on a tall man in blue with blonde near-silver hair. His piercing blue-grey eyes swept the crowd and fixed on her. Then she was facing forward and weaving through tables of an outside cafe.”

What is the goal of the scene? The outcome? What do you want to happened to both the main characters and then decided the steps to get there.

Maybe he catches up to her while the others run in different directions. He tries to convince her it is “him” a friend and she temporarily remembers but then starts to scream and he lets her go.

What obstacles do you want in the way and how are they affected?

Maybe there is people that are in the way and this man knocks them over to get to the woman. In turn, the woman sees this and becomes even more afraid. Now, she knocks down garbage cans and yells for help because she is convinced he is evil.

Or maybe the pursuer is kind to the people he passes and even helps an old lady across the street by carrying her on his back real quick. The woman running away sees this and has second thoughts. She probably even slows down to watch him do this kind act.

What is the map of the scene?

Have an idea of where you want the chase to go. Through the park, through a mall and then at a random lot. Or all on one long street. This is important because the readers need to know why is she still running instead of simply hiding or getting in a taxi.

For example: Melinda ran fast to the taxi in hopes of making a quick get away, but by the time she got an inch from the rear of the vehicle, the street light turned green and taxi sped ahead real fast, leaving an inhale of smoke for poor Melinda to endure. This gave the pursuer plenty of time to catch up, making Melinda even more panicked.

Lastly, how useful are these other teammates? Do they distract, hinder or help “Melinda” get away faster by their blatant stupidity. Do they have tricks up their sleeves to catcher her quicker, like gadgets of some sort? Do these gadgets remind the woman of her past?

Hope this helped!

I want to write a scene on a police chasing a suspect through the streets in the night without the use of cars. The police does not have his uniform on.

Were you able to get it started? If so, let me see what you have.

You should always Describe your character running by Letting your readers know about your character’s pounding feet, rising heart rate, and shortness of breath. All of this adds excitement.

Writing Articles

How to Write an Effective Chase Scene

by Doug Lewars

Either a villain is fleeing from the forces of law-and-order or your hero is fleeing from overwhelming danger, but in either case you need a chase scene. Any form of transportation can be used and the overall structure of the narrative will be reasonably uniform although the specifics will change in each case.

Basically the scene starts with one individual threatening another. The individual so threatened departs in haste while the first person pursues. Both need to avoid obstacles and eventually either the pursued will escape or be captured. The trick, then, is to make the scene exciting.

First, rely heavily on action verbs. The following is a list that is by no means complete but might provide a starting point: accelerate, beat, blast, charge, chase, collide, crash, cut, dart, dash, dive, dodge, duck, erupt, escape, evade, explode, fall, flash, flatten, flee, flinch, flick, flip, fly, force, gallop, hover, hurl, hurtle, invade, jolt, jump, kick, lead, leap, lunge, lurch, move, nail, nick, nip, panic, parry, pass, peel, penetrate, pile, pin, pinch, plow, pounce, plunge, propel, pull, pump, pursue, push, race, raid, raise, rally, ram, reel, regain, repel, retreat, rip, rise, risk, roar, roll, rush, run, scamper, scoot, scrape, scream, scuttle, seize, set, shake, shear, shock, shout, sidestep, skim, skip, skirt, slam, slide, spin, splatter, split, spread, sprint, stumble, sway, swerve, swim, swing, take, tear, thrash, transfer, trap, tread, trip, topple, try, tumble, turn, twist, vacate, vanish, vault, whip, wiggle, yank, yell, yelp, zap, zip.

You can use adjectives and adverbs but not too many. During the scene you want your sentences to be shorter than normal and fairly terse. So consider, for example, “Eric sped quickly past the grocery shop and ducked around a corner hoping to elude Tony.” You don’t need “grocery shop” unless it’s important and not obvious.

Likewise you don’t need “sped quickly.” First “quickly” is redundant since it’s pretty much a challenge to “speed slowly.” More importantly, by forcing your reader to scan the extra word, you slow him or her down at a time when you’re trying to build excitement.

So, better might be “Eric sped past the shop and ducked around a corner.” Assuming you’ve already established that Tony is in pursuit, you don’t need to repeat it. If you do need to emphasize the latter it would be better to use an extra sentence: “Eric sped past the shop and ducked around a corner. He hoped to elude Tony. He wasn’t optimistic.”

Choose appropriate verbs for the type of chase being described. A vehicle might roar down the street and screech around a corner on two wheels. A jet plane might also roar or scream. A person running from danger is not likely to do either–unless, of course, you’re describing a chase scene involving superheroes and villains in which case pretty much anything goes.

Sentence fragments are acceptable despite what your Grade 4 teacher told you, but too many will make you sound juvenile. They increase the pace of the scene but make it sound choppy. Balance is critical.

One technique that I like to use involves choreographing the chase. First I decide on the physical layout. I might even draw a map. Google maps is another good means for generating an area in which the scene is to occur. Obviously a pursuit involving jet aircraft will require quite a bit more real estate than a foot chase.

Next, I make a list of every possible obstacle I can think of, that might be encountered. This is where you can get creative depending on the type of story. Since most of my chase scenes occur in books intended to be humorous, I try to imagine impediments that are somewhat bizarre. It is possible to introduce a few spurious details without significantly reducing the pace.

For example, “I saw the vendor’s eyes widen as I vaulted the counter. Behind me came the crash as the knife-wielder slammed into the table sending oranges flying in all directions.” Technically it would be possible to ignore both the shop keeper and the oranges and focus strictly on the chase, but a few touches such as these help create an image in the mind of the reader of the general chaos surrounding the pursuit.

Before starting, I like to know how long it is going to last. If it’s a major part of the story then it can go on for several thousand words. On the other hand, if it’s not so important it can be over in a paragraph or two. Longer scenes require much more detail which is why I want to understand the terrain and have a longer list of impediments.

One good way of creating that list is head over to YouTube and search for “car chase” or “foot chase” and watch a few. Don’t copy. You want this to be your own chase but you can derive ideas from watching videos.

Finally, when I sit down to actually write the scene, I like to have fast, instrumental music playing to inspire me. I find it much easier to create an exciting scene if I’m motivated by thrilling music.

Guest post contributed by Doug Lewars . Doug is not necessarily over the hill but he’s certainly approaching the summit. He enjoys writing, reading, fishing and sweets of all sorts. He has published eleven books on Smashwords.com .

How To Describe Running In Writing (10 Best Ways)

In the intricate dance between pen and pavement, the art of describing running in writing transcends mere physical motion, becoming a literary expedition that explores the depths of human experience.

Just as each runner leaves an indelible imprint on the terrain they traverse, the words chosen to capture their journey wield the power to evoke emotions, paint vivid landscapes, and breathe life into characters.

In this exploration, we embark on a literary quest to dissect the nuances of describing running—a choreography of language that delves into the sensory, emotional, and symbolic dimensions of this universal act.

From the rhythmic pounding of feet against the Earth to the subtle nuances of a runner’s internal monologue, this guide unveils the tools and techniques that transform a mere run into a captivating narrative, inviting writers to lace up their words and embark on a journey where every step carries the weight of a thousand stories.

Table of Contents

How To Describe Running In Writing

Describing running in writing involves capturing the physical sensations, emotions, and surroundings. Follow these steps to vividly depict a running scene:

Set the Scene

Start by establishing the setting. Describe the time of day, weather, and surroundings. Is it a brisk morning run in a serene park or an intense sprint under the scorching sun?

Character’s Perspective

Convey the runner’s point of view. Is the character a seasoned athlete or a beginner? Describe their mindset and motivation for running.

Sensory Details

Engage the senses. Describe the feel of the wind against the skin, the rhythmic pounding of footsteps, and the sound of the runner’s breath. Use vivid imagery to evoke the physical sensations.

Breathing and Heartbeat

Highlight the rhythmic nature of breathing and the steady thumping of the heartbeat. Use metaphors or similes to compare the breath to the wind or the heartbeat to a drum.

Movement and Form

Depict the movement of the body. Is the runner sprinting with intensity or jogging with ease? Describe the fluidity of their movements and the coordination of limbs.

Emotions and Mindset

Explore the emotional state of the runner. Are they feeling exhilarated, determined, or perhaps struggling with fatigue? Connect their emotions to the physical act of running.

Focus on Surroundings

Integrate details about the environment. Mention the passing scenery, the changing landscape, and any interactions with nature or urban elements.

Use Descriptive Language

Utilize rich and varied vocabulary. Instead of just saying “ran,” consider words like “darted,” “charged,” or “pounded.” Create a dynamic and energetic atmosphere with your choice of words.

Time Perception

Play with the perception of time. Describe how moments stretch or compress during the run. This can add a dynamic element to the narrative.

Wrap up the description by conveying the aftermath of the run. How does the character feel post-exercise? What are the lingering sensations, and how have they changed physically or mentally?

Remember, the key to a compelling description lies in engaging the reader’s senses and emotions, creating a vivid and immersive experience.

Setting the Scene

In the ethereal glow of dawn, where the city’s heartbeat mingles with the rhythmic footfalls on concrete, our runner emerges as a silhouette against the urban tapestry.

The streets, still wrapped in the hush of night, echo with the distant hum of awakening life.

As the first rays of sunlight tiptoe over the skyscrapers, the city unveils its secrets – the play of shadows and reflections on glass facades, the aroma of fresh-brewed coffee wafting from corner cafes, and the symphony of early morning birds in hidden alcoves.

Each step the runner takes is a punctuation mark in this metropolis’s evolving story, a kinetic dance of humanity set against the silent eloquence of a waking world.

The cityscape becomes a canvas, and our runner, the artist, leaving a trail of energy in the air as the backdrop shifts from dimly lit alleys to grand boulevards, creating a visual symphony that mirrors the pulse of a city at the break of day.

Choosing the right environment for the running scene

Selecting the perfect environment for a running scene is akin to orchestrating the notes of a symphony, each setting harmonizing with the runner’s journey.

The urban labyrinth, with its pulsating energy and concrete arteries, offers a dynamic backdrop where the runner navigates through the hustle and bustle of city life, forging a kinetic connection with the metropolis.

In contrast, the natural landscape becomes a poetic canvas, where every stride feels like a communion with the earth, and each inhale is infused with the fragrance of untamed wilderness.

Sporting events transform the runner into a participant in a collective heartbeat, surrounded by the cheers and adrenaline of a community united by the pursuit of physical prowess.

Whether it’s the stark lines of a city skyline, the serenity of a forest trail, or the electric atmosphere of a racecourse, the environment becomes not just a stage but a co-protagonist, influencing the runner’s narrative in ways both subtle and profound.

Characterizing the Runner

Meet our runner, a living paradox of sinew and spirit, a symphony of determination painted in the hues of perseverance.

With the grace of a gazelle and the grit of a mountain climber, this protagonist transcends the mere act of running; each stride is a brushstroke on the canvas of their existence.

Their physicality, a testament to disciplined training, bears the sculpted marks of dedication, while the sparkle in their eyes reveals a fire fueled by untold stories and uncharted dreams.

Beneath the sheen of sweat lies a narrative etched in muscle memory, a saga of triumphs and tribulations that shapes not just the body but the very soul that propels them forward.

As the wind weaves through their hair, it carries whispers of resilience and echoes of victories yet to be conquered.

In the realm of characters, this runner stands as a living allegory, a testament to the transformative power of motion, a kinetic force of nature on a boundless quest for self-discovery.

Developing a well-defined protagonist

In the literary cosmos, our protagonist emerges as a kaleidoscope of complexities, a character meticulously crafted with the precision of a master storyteller.

Their physicality, a tapestry woven with defining features – perhaps the sinewy strength of a marathoner or the nimble grace of a sprinter.

Yet, it is within the intricacies of their emotional landscape that our protagonist truly flourishes. Their heart, a pulsating epicenter of desires, fears, and uncharted dreams, resonates with readers as a mirror reflecting the universal human experience.

Motivations for running spring from the deep well of personal history, each step a rhythmic echo of triumphs and defeats.

With quirks and idiosyncrasies, our protagonist steps off the page, transcending the mere confines of a character to become a living, breathing entity, an embodiment of the author’s narrative alchemy.

Describing the Act of Running

As the runner propels themselves forward, it’s not just the rhythmic percussion of feet against terrain; it’s a kinetic sonnet written in the language of movement.

Each step is a punctuation mark, a staccato beat in the grand composition of their journey. The ground beneath their feet is not just a surface; it’s a tactile dialogue, a Morse code of connection between the runner and the Earth.

Their breath, a syncopated melody, weaves through the air, carrying with it the raw essence of determination and liberation.

The act of running transcends the mere physicality; it’s a dance with inertia, a ballet where gravity is both partner and antagonist.

The wind, a whispering accomplice, sweeps through the strands of their hair, carrying away the burdens of the day. In the symphony of motion, the runner becomes a conductor, orchestrating a symphonic ode to the pursuit of speed and freedom.

Utilizing dynamic and evocative language

To capture the essence of running is to wield language as a palette of vivid hues, each word a brushstroke that breathes life into the narrative canvas.

Dynamic and evocative language transforms a mere jog into a pulsating sprint, infusing the act with vitality and urgency.

The runner doesn’t merely move forward; they surge, they race, they dash through the tapestry of landscapes. Powerful verbs carve through the air like an athlete through the finish line, leaving a trail of kinetic energy.

Adjectives become the hues that paint the scene – the asphalt may be not just gray but a slate expanse pulsating with the heartbeat of the city.

Metaphors and similes dance through the prose, likening the runner’s movements to the flight of an arrow or the flow of a river, imbuing the act with layers of meaning and emotion.

Dynamic and evocative language is the alchemy that transforms a mundane jog into a literary journey, inviting readers to not just witness but experience the heartbeat of the run.

Exploring the Emotional Landscape

Within the cadence of each footfall, a clandestine emotional landscape unfolds, revealing the runner as a nomad traversing the terrain of their own soul.

Joy, like a jubilant companion, dances in the rhythm of their breath, infusing the run with an infectious exuberance that reverberates through the sinews.

Frustration, a tempestuous shadow, may cast its fleeting gloom as muscles strain against the trials of the course.

Yet, amidst the symphony of emotions, there lies a state of flow, an elusive nirvana where the runner transcends the physical constraints and becomes one with the pulsating energy of the universe.

As the emotional landscape morphs and undulates, so does the narrative, weaving a tapestry that mirrors the rich hues of the runner’s innermost world.

In this exploration of emotions, the act of running metamorphoses into a visceral experience, a journey not only through space but through the labyrinth of the runner’s heart and mind.

Expressing the emotional journey of the runner

The emotional journey of our runner unfolds like a novel with every step, each footfall resonating with the cadence of their internal narrative.

As they traverse the landscape, joy unfurls like a banner, carried on the wind of endorphins, casting a warm and radiant glow.

In moments of struggle, frustration and determination entwine, creating a dynamic tension that propels them forward against the odds.

There are echoes of liberation in the rhythmic pound of their heart, a symphony of freedom that reverberates through the sinews.

The emotional landscape is not static; it evolves with the changing scenery, mirroring the highs and lows of the runner’s journey.

Running becomes a cathartic dance, a canvas upon which the runner paints the spectrum of their emotions.

From the exuberance of conquering a challenging hill to the quiet introspection of a solitary dawn run, the emotional journey unfolds with every footfall, transforming the act of running into a visceral expression of the human experience.

Crafting Dialogue and Interaction

In the pulsating rhythm of footfalls, the runner engages in a silent dialogue with the world, a conversation not bound by words but etched in the very act of motion.

Amidst the rhythmic breaths and the percussive beat of sneakers against the pavement, there lies an inner monologue—a symphony of thoughts echoing in the corridors of the runner’s mind.

Occasionally, this solitary dialogue is interrupted by fleeting interactions with fellow travelers on the path, exchanges that are as ephemeral as the morning mist but leave a lasting imprint on the narrative.

The dialogue isn’t confined to spoken words; it resonates in the crunch of leaves underfoot, the subtle nods exchanged with other dawn warriors, and the unspoken camaraderie of shared strides.

Through this nuanced interplay of silence and fleeting connections, the runner’s journey becomes a narrative of introspection, connection, and the unspoken poetry that unfolds in the spaces between steps.

Integrating conversations during running

As the runner’s breath syncs with the rhythmic pulse of their footfalls, conversations unfurl like whispers in the wind.

The dialogue becomes a symphony of panting breaths and spoken words, an intimate dance where the pace of conversation mirrors the ebb and flow of the run itself.

In these moments, dialogues aren’t just exchanges of words; they are shared breaths, a communal journey of thoughts and aspirations woven into the very fabric of each stride.

Conversations during running are not bound by the constraints of stationary chatter; they are dynamic and organic, shaped by the undulating terrain and the changing landscapes that frame the discourse.

Whether discussing the mundanity of everyday life or delving into profound reflections, these conversations become a narrative thread stitching together the miles, making each run not just a physical endeavor but a shared odyssey of the spoken word.

Incorporating Literary Devices

In the runner’s narrative, literary devices become the palette with which the story is painted, a kaleidoscope of techniques that elevate the act of running from mere physical exertion to a lyrical masterpiece.

Metaphors and similes stretch across the pavement like a runner’s shadow at sunrise, each step a brushstroke imbued with symbolism.

Foreshadowing becomes the distant silhouette of a challenging hill, looming on the horizon, foretelling the trials awaiting the protagonist.

Flashbacks, like quicksilver memories, dart through the mind, tracing the runner’s journey through time and terrain.

The narrative becomes a tapestry woven with irony, where the seemingly uphill struggle is revealed to be the downhill sprint of personal growth.

Literary devices aren’t just tools; they’re alchemical agents transforming the act of running into a multisensory, multi-layered experience, where every word and device contributes to the symphony of storytelling.

Employing foreshadowing and symbolism

In the rhythmic cadence of the runner’s journey, foreshadowing and symbolism emerge as cryptic whispers, foretelling a narrative beyond the mere pounding of feet against the Earth.

Each uphill climb becomes a metaphor for life’s challenges, the summit a promise of triumph yet to unfold. The changing terrain, from city pavements to wooded trails, embodies the ebb and flow of the runner’s personal odyssey.

Shadows cast by the rising or setting sun mirror the elusive nature of time, hinting at the temporal nuances within the runner’s own story.

Footprints left behind become a symbolic trace of the journey taken, a tangible reminder of the paths trodden and the milestones conquered.

Through the artful interplay of foreshadowing and symbolism, the act of running transcends the physical, transforming into a literary expedition where every step hints at a narrative yet to be written, and every landmark carries the weight of profound significance.

Addressing Diversity and Inclusivity

As the runner’s pulse synchronizes with the heartbeat of the diverse landscapes they traverse, the narrative unfolds as a celebration of inclusivity.

The path isn’t a one-size-fits-all trail; it meanders through urban jungles, suburban streets, and rural landscapes, mirroring the varied tapestry of the human experience.

In this runner’s world, diversity isn’t an afterthought; it’s embedded in the very rhythm of the footfalls. Characters emerge not as stereotypes but as unique voices, each step echoing a personal narrative that defies preconceived notions.

The running community is a mosaic of cultures, ethnicities, and backgrounds, converging in a shared pursuit of endurance and vitality.

The narrative transcends borders and embraces different abilities, making room for every runner, whether sprinting, jogging, or ambling.

In addressing diversity and inclusivity, the act of running transforms into a universal language, inviting all to lace up their shoes and join the symphony of collective footsteps on the path to understanding, unity, and shared humanity.

Ensuring representation in characters and settings

In the literary universe of the runner, representation is not a distant ideal but an integral element woven into the very fabric of the narrative.

Characters emerge not as one-dimensional placeholders but as rich tapestries of diversity, each imbued with a unique identity that reflects the kaleidoscope of human experience.

Settings are meticulously crafted, offering a panorama that mirrors the vibrant landscapes of our real-world communities.

Urban environments boast a spectrum of cultures and perspectives, suburban streets echo with the pulse of varied lifestyles, and rural landscapes become canvases painted with the nuanced hues of regional identities.

Representation extends beyond tokenism; it is a commitment to authenticity, ensuring that every character, every setting, contributes to a narrative that resonates with the plurality of our global existence.

In this runner’s odyssey, everyone finds a mirror, a reflection that acknowledges and celebrates the beauty of our shared diversity, making every page an invitation to witness the myriad ways in which the human spirit takes shape on the running path.

Frequently Asked Questions about How To Describe Running In Writing

Why is it important to describe running in writing.

Running descriptions add depth and immersion to your narrative, allowing readers to experience the physical and emotional aspects of the activity. It enhances character development and engages the audience in the story .

How can I make my running description more immersive?

Focus on sensory details—describe the feel of the wind, the rhythmic footfalls, and the sound of breathing. Incorporate vivid imagery, engaging the reader’s senses to create a more immersive experience.

What role do emotions play in describing running?

Emotions are crucial. Connect the runner’s emotional state to the act of running. Whether it’s determination, exhilaration, or fatigue, conveying emotions adds a layer of authenticity to your description.

How do I choose the right words to describe running?

Select descriptive and dynamic language. Instead of generic terms like “ran,” experiment with words that evoke motion and energy, such as “dashed,” “sprinted,” or “pounded.” This enhances the overall impact of your description.

Should I focus on the surroundings when describing a run?

Yes, incorporating details about the environment enhances the overall picture. Mention the changing landscape, the passing scenery, and any interactions with the surroundings to provide context and atmosphere.

How do I capture the physical aspects of running?

Describe the movement and form of the runner. Highlight the coordination of limbs, the rhythm of footsteps, and the physical sensations, such as the heartbeat and breath. This helps create a tangible sense of the running experience.

Is there a recommended structure for describing a running scene?

Start by setting the scene, then delve into the runner’s perspective and emotions. Pay attention to sensory details, movement, and surroundings. Conclude by reflecting on the aftermath of the run to provide a well-rounded description.

Can I play with the perception of time when describing a run?

Absolutely. Experiment with time perception to create a dynamic narrative. Describe how moments stretch or compress during the run to add an interesting and unique dimension to your description.

How long should a running description be?

The length depends on the context and purpose. Aim for a balance—provide enough detail to immerse the reader without overwhelming them. Focus on quality over quantity.

Any tips for beginners in describing running scenes?

Start with the basics—establish the setting, convey the runner’s perspective, and gradually incorporate sensory details. Don’t hesitate to experiment with language and focus on honing your descriptive skills over time.

In conclusion, mastering the art of describing running in writing requires a thoughtful blend of vivid imagery, sensory engagement, and emotional resonance.

By carefully crafting a narrative that captures the physical sensations, the ebb and flow of emotions, and the dynamic interplay with the surroundings, writers can transport their readers into the heart of the running experience.

Experimenting with language, playing with time perception, and paying attention to both the minutiae and the overarching themes all contribute to creating a well-rounded and immersive depiction of running.

So, lace up your literary shoes, embark on this descriptive journey, and let the rhythm of your words mirror the pulsating energy of a runner in motion.

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How To Describe Running In Writing (100+ Words & Examples)

In almost every story, someone must run to, from, or for something.

Here is how to describe running in writing:

Describe running in writing by using vivid sensory details, dynamic verbs, and emotional resonance. Explain the stride, speed, and distance. Capture the physicality with words like pounding, swift, and effortless. Evoke the runner’s experience with phrases like heart racing and muscles burning.

In this guide, you’ll learn everything you need to know about how to describe running in writing.

1. Capturing the Essence of Motion

A man running in the forest - How to Describe Running in Writing

Table of Contents

To effectively describe running, focus on active language that vividly conveys motion.

Utilize strong verbs to depict movement and energy, and employ precise adjectives for intensity.

Reflect the run’s pacing in your writing’s rhythm. By understanding how to condense complex actions into concise descriptions, your writing becomes more engaging and dynamic.

Runner’s breathlessness as they sprint.
The sound of feet pounding against the ground.
The blur of passing scenery.
The dynamic movement of limbs in motion.
The sensation of wind rushing past.

2. The Role of Sensory Imagery

Sensory imagery is crucial in bringing running scenes to life.

Implement visual descriptors to detail the runner’s environment, use sound imagery to enhance realism, and incorporate tactile experiences to make the scene palpable. These details help create a vivid, multi-layered atmosphere that transports readers into the heart of the running experience.

Describing the texture of the running surface.
The rhythm of the runner’s breathing.
Visualizing the changing landscapes.
The feeling of sweat on the skin.
The sound of heartbeats syncing with footfalls.

3. Understanding the Mechanics of Running

Grasping the mechanics of running enriches your writing’s authenticity.

Explain stride, cadence, and posture, breaking down these aspects in your story. This technical understanding brings believability and depth, making your descriptions resonate with both runners and readers alike.

Stride patterns in different terrains.
Variations in cadence during a race.
The impact of different footstrikes.
Postural changes in long-distance runs.
Arm swing and its contribution to balance.

4. Emotional Resonance in Describing Movement

Creating an emotional connection with readers is key.

Infuse your descriptions with emotions and motivations that resonate. Use evocative language to articulate the physical and emotional journey of running, tapping into readers’ shared experiences and feelings.

The surge of adrenaline during a sprint.
The mental battle in endurance runs.
The euphoria of crossing the finish line.
The tranquility of a solitary jog.
The frustration and triumph in overcoming obstacles.

5. Utilizing Metaphors and Similes

Employ metaphors and similes to draw relatable parallels between running and familiar experiences. This approach adds depth and sensory details, making your scenes more engaging and easier for readers to visualize and connect with.

Comparing a runner’s speed to a rushing river.
Likening a marathon to a long, winding journey.
Describing a sprinter’s burst as a lightning strike.
Equating the rhythm of running to a beating drum.
Using a bird’s flight to describe a runner’s grace.

6. Breaking Down the Steps of Running

Detail each aspect of running, emphasizing pace and rhythm. This approach makes it easier for readers to visualize the action and feel the runner’s energy. Discuss stride, cadence, and tempo, dissecting these elements to paint a vivid picture of the running technique.

The transition from walk to jog to sprint.
Changing stride lengths in response to terrain.
The steady increase of cadence over a race.
The tempo variations in interval training.
The rhythm of footsteps in a consistent pace.

7. Pacing Your Narrative with the Running Sequence

Narrative pacing should mirror running’s rhythm. Use techniques like starting strong, creating contrasts, and building tension to make your descriptions dynamic. The strategic placement of key elements enhances clarity and engagement.

An explosive start to a race.
The gradual build-up of a long-distance run.
A sudden burst of speed in a sprint.
Moments of reflection during a cool-down.
The final push towards the finish line.

8. Character Response and Internal Monologue

Delve into your character’s thoughts and emotions during running. This adds depth and immerses readers in the narrative. Choose a narrative perspective and convey emotions and sensations, making your descriptions resonate with authenticity and emotion.

A runner’s self-encouragement during a challenging segment.
Inner turmoil in the face of fatigue.
The shift from doubt to confidence.
Reflections on personal growth during a run.
The decision-making process during critical race moments.

9. Adjusting Description for Different Contexts

Tailor your descriptions to match the context of the running scenario.

For competitive scenes, focus on intensity and speed, highlighting the athlete’s determination. In leisurely runs, emphasize the scenery and the sensation of freedom. Adapting your descriptions to the setting creates believable, engaging narratives.

The focused intensity of a runner in a competitive race.
The calm rhythm of a leisure run in a park.
The runner’s heightened awareness during a challenging trail run.
The relaxed posture and easy breathing in a recreational jog.
The strategic pacing in a marathon versus a short sprint.

10. Descriptive Techniques from Published Works

Analyze literary examples for inspiration and technique.

Look at how established authors use language to convey movement and emotion, drawing from their methods to enhance your own descriptions. Study their use of sensory details, emotional depth, and narrative pacing.

John L. Parker Jr.’s portrayal of the runner’s determination.
Haruki Murakami’s introspective running narratives.
Christopher McDougall’s descriptions of running environments.
Alan Sillitoe’s contrast of emotions and physicality in running.
The dynamic tension in competitive scenes from sports literature.

11. Highlighting the Runner’s Environment

The environment in which the run takes place can significantly impact how you describe the running experience.

From urban landscapes to nature trails, each setting offers unique elements to highlight. Describing the environment adds depth and context, making the running experience more vivid and relatable.

Running through a bustling city, weaving between pedestrians.
The serene experience of a trail run through a forest.
The harshness of running in a desert landscape.
The refreshing feeling of a morning run along a beach.
The challenge of running in snowy, winter conditions.

12. Exploring the Runner’s Physicality

Focus on the physical aspects of the runner.

This includes their running style, physical responses to the run (like sweating or breathing), and the overall physical exertion. Describing these details brings realism to the narrative, allowing readers to empathize with the runner’s physical experience.

The effortless gait of an experienced runner.
The labored breathing of a beginner pushing their limits.
The runner’s stride adjusting to uphill challenges.
The physical exhaustion visible in a marathoner’s final miles.
The sweat-drenched shirt of a runner in the summer heat.

13. Depicting the Psychological Aspect of Running

Running is as much a mental challenge as it is a physical one. Describe the mental strategies, focus, and determination that go into running, especially in competitive scenarios. This aspect adds another layer to your narrative, showcasing the complexity of the running experience.

The mental grit needed to continue in a grueling race.
The zen-like state achieved during a peaceful jog.
The runner’s internal monologue strategizing during a race.
The battle against mental fatigue in long-distance runs.
The euphoria and mental release post-run.

14. Incorporating Dialogue and Interaction

Introducing dialogue or interaction with other characters can add dynamism to running scenes. Whether it’s a conversation between running partners or internal dialogue, this element can provide insight into the runner’s personality and their experience.

Runners encouraging each other during a tough segment.
A coach shouting instructions to an athlete.
Internal debate about whether to keep running or stop.
Friendly banter in a community fun run.
Reflective thoughts during a solo run.

15. Using Running as a Metaphor

Running can serve as a powerful metaphor for life’s journey, personal growth, or overcoming challenges. Use running as a metaphorical tool to convey deeper themes or messages in your writing, making the act of running symbolic and thought-provoking.

Running as a metaphor for the journey of life.
A sprint representing the rush of a short, intense life event.
Endurance running symbolizing the perseverance in personal challenges.
The hurdles in a track race as obstacles in life.
The finishing line as a metaphor for achieving one’s goals.

Here is a good video about how to describe running in writing:

Best 30 Words to Describe Running

Below is a list of some of the best words to describe running in writing:

Exhilarating
Fleet-footed

Best 30 Phrases to Describe Running

Here are some of the best phrases for describing running in your story:

“Heart pounding like a drum.”
“Legs moving in a rhythmic dance.”
“Breath coming in ragged gasps.”
“Sweat cascading down furrowed brows.”
“Feet striking the ground with purpose.”
“Arms pumping in sync with strides.”
“Eyes fixed on the distant horizon.”
“Wind whispering past with each step.”
“Muscles burning with fiery intensity.”
“The world blurring in peripheral vision.”
“Pushing past the limits of endurance.”
“Adrenaline coursing through veins.”
“The rhythmic thud of sneakers on pavement.”
“Grit and determination etched on faces.”
“The final sprint to the finish line.”
“Dodging obstacles with nimble agility.”
“Like a gazelle bounding across the plains.”
“A blur of speed and power.”
“Pacing breaths to match strides.”
“Conquering steep inclines with steadfast resolve.”
“The euphoria of a runner’s high.”
“The steady tempo of a long-distance journey.”
“A dance with the elements of nature.”
“A solitary figure against the sprawling landscape.”
“Embracing the challenge with every fiber.”
“The silent language of a seasoned runner.”
“Navigating twists and turns with grace.”
“The exhilarating rush of wind in hair.”
“Finding solace in the rhythm of the run.”
“Leaving trails of dust in the wake.”

3 Full Examples of Running (from Different Genres)

Let’s look at three examples of how to describe running in writing from different kinds of stories.

1. Adventure Genre

In the dense jungle, Lara’s boots pounded against the wet earth, her breaths quick and shallow as she dashed through the undergrowth.

The sounds of pursuit were distant but growing louder. She leaped over fallen logs and dodged low-hanging branches, her heart racing as fast as her feet. Every muscle in her body was alight with adrenaline, driving her forward. Despite the danger, there was an exhilarating sense of freedom in her flight, a primal thrill in this race against time and enemy.

2. Romance Genre

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm golden hue over the beach, Emily ran along the shoreline, her bare feet splashing in the shallow waves. Her laughter mingled with the sound of the surf, a melodic symphony to Jack’s ears as he chased after her.

The wind tugged playfully at her hair, and she glanced back at him with sparkling eyes, her smile as captivating as the chase itself. In that moment, running felt like a dance, a joyous celebration of the connection they shared, unspoken yet profoundly felt.

3. Sci-Fi Genre

Through the neon-lit streets of Neo-Tokyo, Akira sprinted, his cybernetic legs propelling him at inhuman speeds.

Buildings and hovercars blurred into streaks of light as he weaved through the bustling crowds. His HUD displayed the rapidly closing distance to his target, every second crucial. The fusion of man and machine was seamless, his body responding to each command with precision and agility. It was a race against time, one that Akira was determined to win, the outcome not just a matter of pride, but of survival in this high-tech urban jungle.

Final Thoughts: How to Describe Running in Writing

Mastering the art of describing running in writing brings your narratives to vivid life, capturing the essence of motion and emotion. For more insights and writing tips, explore our other articles and continue honing your craft with us.

How to Describe Running in Writing

By A.W. Naves

Do you need advice on how to describe running in writing? In this post, we share 10 words that you can use to write a character running in a scene.

1. Sprinting

Hurrying, rushing ; running at full speed.

“He sprinted through the dark recesses of the forest , his heart pounding and breath ragged.”

“She could almost taste victory as she sprinted towards the finish line just ahead of her opponent.”

How it Adds Description

Sprinting conveys a sense of urgency, determination, and heightened physical exertion. It suggests that a character is engaged in a critical moment, racing against time, or pursuing a goal with great intensity. This shows readers that something significant is happening or about to happen, potentially leading to important developments or revelations in the story.

Trotting, galloping ; running at a steady, moderate pace.

“He could usually be found jogging along the beach, enjoying the soothing sound of crashing waves.”

“The cool breeze was a welcome respite while jogging in the park during the long, hot summer months.

The word “jogging” suggests a relaxed and steady rhythm, implying that the character is engaging in a regular exercise routine rather than sprinting or fleeing from a specific danger. It can be used to divulge information about the character’s behavior, lifestyle, and their level of fitness. This may also show that they are in familiar surroundings and not in peril.

3. Graceful

Nibble, lithe : moving with grace.

“She moved with graceful strides, her body gliding effortlessly over the rough terrain along the mountain trail.”

“His graceful footwork showcased his agility, allowing him to effortlessly navigate the obstacles on the course.”

The word “graceful” imparts a sense of elegance and poise. It suggests that a character possesses a certain level of finesse and control, transforming the simple act of running into a captivating visual. “Graceful” could also be used to illustrate that the protagonist is not merely running, but perhaps evading pursuers, executing a daring escape, or embarking on a significant quest.

Moving swiftly and energetically .

“He dashed through the crowded streets, weaving expertly between pedestrians and sidewalk vendors.”

“Nicole dashed up the stairs, her heart racing with anticipation at the thought of seeing her mother again.”

The word “dashing” implies that the individual is not merely running but doing so in a graceful and stylish manner. It conveys the character’s agility and confidence, suggesting that they possess certain exceptional qualities. This description may also hint at the character’s determination, inferring that they are in pursuit of an important goal or facing a critical situation.

5. Galloping

Running with a bounding, horse-like gait .

“The children galloped through the meadow, all giggles and mischief, as they tried to catch the rabbit.”

“Arthur galloped down the dirt road toward the crash, leaving a cloud of dust behind him.”

The word “galloping” lends a sense of speed, power, and determination to a character’s movements. It creates an image of a person running with long, powerful strides, reminiscent of a horse in full stride. This suggests that the person is running with great purpose, chasing after something, or fleeing from a threat.

Nimble, quick ; light-footed

“She ran through the market with agile movements, trying to reach the exit and get to the bus stop before it was too late.”

“Terry’s agile footwork allowed him to adapt to the changing terrain, maintaining his speed and efficiency.”

The word “agile” describes a person’s running style, emphasizing their dexterity. It hints at their physical prowess and sets the stage for exciting action sequences, creating anticipation for what lies ahead in the story, as readers wonder how their skills will aid them in their pursuit or help them evade potential threats.

Escaping, bolting ; running away from danger or a threatening situation.

“Fear drove their every step as they began fleeing through the dark forest to escape the beast.”

“The people were fleeing from the burning building, the smoke still choking their lungs as they made it to safety.”

The word “fleeing” adds a sense of urgency, fear, and desperation. It suggests that the person is attempting to escape from imminent danger or a threatening situation. By using this word, the plot is propelled forward by creating a conflict or perilous circumstance, driving the narrative, and prompting the reader to become invested in the outcome.

Running with long, easy strides .

“The wolf loped gracefully through the snow-covered landscape in search of shelter from the storm.”

“Peter loped along the trail, enjoying the peacefulness of the forest and observing the wild animals that scattered as he approached.”

The word “loping” evokes an image of a person effortlessly covering ground with a graceful gait. It contributes to the development of the plot by subtly revealing the character’s physical prowess or their familiarity with the terrain, indicating that they are capable of overcoming obstacles and moving swiftly through the story’s events.

9. Pounding

Running with a heavy and repetitive impact .

“His weary legs continued pounding along the marathon route, each step a struggle.”

“She kept pounding forward, her heart pounding in her chest, refusing to give up.”

The word “pounding” conveys a sense of force and power, suggesting that the person is running with great strength and determination, emphasizing the urgency and purpose behind the character’s actions. It hints at a significant event or goal that the character is pursuing, creating anticipation, and setting the stage for an upcoming plot development or revelation.

10. Frenziedly

Wild, chaotic ; moving in an uncontrolled manner.

“The panicked school children ran frenziedly in all directions, seeking safety from the attacker.”

“He ran frenziedly through the maze-like corridors, desperately searching for an exit.”

The word “frenziedly” illustrates that the individual is running at an almost frantic pace, displaying a lack of control or composure. This can evoke curiosity in the reader, urging them to find out what is driving the person to such an extreme level of frenzied movement. It infuses the narrative with a heightened sense of drama and accelerates the pace of the story.

Writing Prompts

150+ Story Starters: Creative Sentences To Start A Story

The most important thing about writing is finding a good idea . You have to have a great idea to write a story. You have to be able to see the whole picture before you can start to write it. Sometimes, you might need help with that. Story starters are a great way to get the story rolling. You can use them to kick off a story, start a character in a story or even start a scene in a story.

When you start writing a story, you need to have a hook. A hook can be a character or a plot device. It can also be a setting, something like “A young man came into a bar with a horse.” or a setting like “It was the summer of 1969, and there were no cell phones.” The first sentence of a story is often the hook. It can also be a premise or a situation, such as, “A strange old man in a black cloak was sitting on the train platform.”

Story starters are a way to quickly get the story going. They give the reader a place to start reading your story. Some story starters are obvious, and some are not. The best story starters are the ones that give the reader a glimpse into the story. They can be a part of a story or a part of a scene. They can be a way to show the reader the mood of a story. If you want to start a story, you can use a simple sentence. You can also use a question or an inspirational quote. In this post, we have listed over 150 story starters to get your story started with a bang! A great way to use these story starters is at the start of the Finish The Story game .

If you want more story starters, check out this video on some creative story starter sentences to use in your stories:

150+ Creative Story Starters

Here is a list of good sentences to start a story with:

I’ve read about a million stories about princesses but never thought I could ever be one.
There was once a man who was very old, but he was wise. He lived for a very long time, and he was very happy.
What is the difference between a man and a cat? A cat has nine lives.
In the middle of the night, a boy is running through the woods.
It is the end of the world.
He knew he was not allowed to look into the eyes of the princess, but he couldn’t help himself.
The year is 1893. A young boy was running away from home.
What if the Forest was actually a magical portal to another dimension, the Forest was a portal to the Otherworld?
In the Forest, you will find a vast number of magical beings of all sorts.
It was the middle of the night, and the forest was quiet. No bugs or animals disturbed the silence. There were no birds, no chirping.
If you wish to stay in the Forest, you will need to follow these rules: No one shall leave the Forest. No one shall enter. No one shall take anything from the Forest.
“It was a terrible day,” said the old man in a raspy voice.
A cat is flying through the air, higher and higher, when it happens, and the cat doesn’t know how it got there, how it got to be in the sky.
I was lying in the woods, and I was daydreaming.
The Earth is a world of wonders.
The fairy is the most amazing creature I have ever met.
A young girl was sitting on a tree stump at the edge of a river when she noticed a magical tree growing in the water.
My dancing rat is dressed in a jacket, a tie and glasses, which make him look like a person.
In the darkness of the night, I am alone, but I know that I am not.
Owls are the oldest, and most intelligent, of all birds.
My name is Reyna, and I am a fox.
The woman was drowning.
One day, he was walking in the forest.
It was a dark and stormy night…
There was a young girl who could not sleep…
A boy in a black cape rode on a white horse…
A crazy old man in a black cloak was sitting in the middle of the street…
The sun was setting on a beautiful summer day…
The dog was restless…”
There was a young boy in a brown coat…
I met a young man in the woods…
In the middle of a dark forest…
The young girl was at home with her family…
There was a young man who was sitting on a …
A young man came into a bar with a horse…
I have had a lot of bad dreams…
He was a man who wanted to be king…
It was the summer of 1969, and there were no cell phones.
I know what you’re thinking. But no, I don’t want to be a vegetarian. The worst part is I don’t like the taste.
She looked at the boy and decided to ask him why he wasn’t eating. She didn’t want to look mean, but she was going to ask him anyway.
The song played on the radio, as Samual wiped away his tears.
This was the part when everything was about to go downhill. But it didn’t…
“Why make life harder for yourself?” asked Claire, as she bit into her apple.
She made a promise to herself that she would never do it.
I was able to escape.
I was reading a book when the accident happened.
“I can’t stand up for people who lie and cheat.” I cried.
You look at me and I feel beautiful.
I know what I want to be when I grow up.
We didn’t have much money. But we knew how to throw a good party.
The wind blew on the silent streets of London.
What do you get when you cross an angry bee and my sister?
The flight was slow and bumpy. I was half asleep when the captain announced we were going down.
At the far end of the city was a river that was overgrown with weeds.
It was a quiet night in the middle of a busy week.
One afternoon, I was eating a sandwich in the park when I spotted a stranger.
In the late afternoon, a few students sat on the lawn reading.
The fireflies were dancing in the twilight as the sunset.
In the early evening, the children played in the park.
The sun was setting and the moon was rising.
A crowd gathered in the square as the band played.
The top of the water tower shone in the moonlight.
The light in the living room was on, but the light in the kitchen was off.
When I was a little boy, I used to make up stories about the adventures of these amazing animals, creatures, and so on.
All of the sudden, I realized I was standing in the middle of an open field surrounded by nothing but wildflowers, and the only thing I remembered about it was that I’d never seen a tree before.
It’s the kind of thing that’s only happened to me once before in my life, but it’s so cool to see it.
They gave him a little wave as they drove away.
The car had left the parking lot, and a few hours later we arrived home.
They were going to play a game of bingo.
He’d made up his mind to do it. He’d have to tell her soon, though. He was waiting for a moment when they were alone and he could say it without feeling like an idiot. But when that moment came, he couldn’t think of anything to say.
Jamie always wanted to own a plane, but his parents were a little tight on the budget. So he’d been saving up to buy one of his own.
The night was getting colder, and the wind was blowing in from the west.
The doctor stared down at the small, withered corpse.
She’d never been in the woods before, but she wasn’t afraid.
The kids were having a great time in the playground.
The police caught the thieves red-handed.
The world needs a hero more than ever.
Mother always said, “Be good and nice things will happen…”
There is a difference between what you see and what you think you see.
The sun was low in the sky and the air was warm.
“It’s time to go home,” she said, “I’m getting a headache.”
It was a cold winter’s day, and the snow had come early.
I found a wounded bird in my garden.
“You should have seen the look on my face.”
He opened the door and stepped back.
My father used to say, “All good things come to an end.”
The problem with fast cars is that they break so easily.
“What do you think of this one?” asked Mindy.
“If I asked you to do something, would you do it?” asked Jacob.
I was surprised to see her on the bus.
I was never the most popular one in my class.
We had a bad fight that day.
The coffee machine had stopped working, so I went to the kitchen to make myself a cup of tea.
It was a muggy night, and the air-conditioning unit was so loud it hurt my ears.
I had a sleepless night because I couldn’t get my head to turn off.
I woke up at dawn and heard a horrible noise.
I was so tired I didn’t know if I’d be able to sleep that night.
I put on the light and looked at myself in the mirror.
I decided to go in, but the door was locked.
A man in a red sweater stood staring at a little kitten as if it was on fire.
“It’s so beautiful,” he said, “I’m going to take a picture.”
“I think we’re lost,” he said, “It’s all your fault.”
It’s hard to imagine what a better life might be like
He was a tall, lanky man, with a long face, a nose like a pin, and a thin, sandy moustache.
He had a face like a lion’s and an eye like a hawk’s.
The man was so broad and strong that it was as if a mountain had been folded up and carried in his belly.
I opened the door. I didn’t see her, but I knew she was there.
I walked down the street. I couldn’t help feeling a little guilty.
I arrived at my parents’ home at 8:00 AM.
The nurse had been very helpful.
On the table was an array of desserts.
I had just finished putting the last of my books in the trunk.
A car horn honked, startling me.
The kitchen was full of pots and pans.
There are too many things to remember.
The world was my oyster. I was born with a silver spoon in my mouth.
“My grandfather was a World War II veteran. He was a decorated hero who’d earned himself a Silver Star, a Bronze Star, and a Purple Heart.
Beneath the menacing, skeletal shadow of the mountain, a hermit sat on his ledge. His gnarled hands folded on his gnarled knees. His eyes stared blankly into the fog.
I heard a story about a dragon, who was said to be the size of a house, that lived on the top of the tallest mountain in the world.
I was told a story about a man who found a golden treasure, which was buried in this very park.
He stood alone in the middle of a dark and silent room, his head cocked to one side, the brown locks of his hair, which were parted in the middle, falling down over his eyes.
Growing up, I was the black sheep of the family. I had my father’s eyes, but my mother’s smile.
Once upon a time, there was a woman named Miss Muffett, and she lived in a big house with many rooms.
When I was a child, my mother told me that the water looked so bright because the sun was shining on it. I did not understand what she meant at the time.
The man in the boat took the water bottle and drank from it as he paddled away.
The man looked at the child with a mixture of pity and contempt.
An old man and his grandson sat in their garden. The old man told his grandson to dig a hole.
An old woman was taking a walk on the beach. The tide was high and she had to wade through the water to get to the other side.
She looked up at the clock and saw that it was five minutes past seven.
The man looked up from the map he was studying. “How’s it going, mate?”
I was in my room on the third floor, staring out of the window.
A dark silhouette of a woman stood in the doorway.
The church bells began to ring.
The moon rose above the horizon.
A bright light shone over the road.
The night sky began to glow.
I could hear my mother cooking in the kitchen.
The fog began to roll in.
He came in late to the class and sat at the back.
A young boy picked up a penny and put it in his pocket.
He went to the bathroom and looked at his face in the mirror.
It was the age of wisdom and the age of foolishness. We once had everything and now we have nothing.
A young man died yesterday, and no one knows why.
The boy was a little boy. He was not yet a man. He lived in a house in a big city.
They had just returned from the theatre when the phone rang.
I walked up to the front of the store and noticed the neon sign was out.
I always wondered what happened to Mary.
I stopped to say hello and then walked on.
The boy’s mother didn’t want him to play outside…
The lights suddenly went out…
After 10 years in prison, he was finally out.
The raindrops pelted the window, which was set high up on the wall, and I could see it was a clear day outside.
My friend and I had just finished a large pizza, and we were about to open our second.
I love the smell of the ocean, but it never smells as good as it does when the waves are crashing.
They just stood there, staring at each other.
A party was in full swing until the music stopped.

For more ideas on how to start your story, check out these first-line writing prompts . Did you find this list of creative story starters useful? Let us know in the comments below!

Marty the wizard is the master of Imagine Forest. When he's not reading a ton of books or writing some of his own tales, he loves to be surrounded by the magical creatures that live in Imagine Forest. While living in his tree house he has devoted his time to helping children around the world with their writing skills and creativity.

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‘Something in my brain were loosened up by all that movement and the rushing air.’

What we write about when we write about running

Australian writer Catriona Menzies-Pike is the latest to add to the burgeoning genre of the ‘exercise memoir’. What is it about running that gets us writing?

Maybe, baby, you were born to run.

Me? I was born to sit.

Sitting is good – you don’t get tired if you go for a long sit, and it’s more difficult to injure yourself.

Plus you can do things while sitting, like reading books, and maybe even writing them. Try doing that while you’re running.

Yet writers are increasingly coming out as runners. Witness the burgeoning genre of the ‘exercise memoir’.

There’s the classic Born To Run by Christopher McDougall, Haruki Murakami’s elegant What I Talk About When I Talk About Running , and for those who prefer walking, there’s Wild by Cheryl Strayed. And last week, Australian writer Catriona Menzies-Pike released her memoir on women and running: The Long Run .

Some of these writers, like Murakami, explore the relationship between running and creativity. They say they can only write the way they do because they run – although Murakami, who owned a jazz bar in Tokyo and used to smoke 60 ciggies a day, initially ran to get fit.

Murakami says of the relationship between writing and running:

Sometimes I run fast when I feel like it, but if I increase the pace I shorten the amount of time I run, the point being to let the exhilaration I feel at the end of each run carry over to the next day. This is the same sort of tack I find necessary when writing a novel. I stop every day right at the point where I feel I can write more. Do that, and the next day’s work goes surprisingly smoothly.

Novelist Joyce Carol Oates is ecstatic in her description:

Running! If there’s any activity happier, more exhilarating, more nourishing to the imagination, I can’t think of what it might be. In running the mind flees with the body, the mysterious efflorescence of language seems to pulse in the brain, in rhythm with our feet and the swinging of our arms.

English novelist Ian McEwan will go for a walk if he is stuck in a particularly tough patch of writing:

One of the great things about a really great hike is it pushes you into the present; it’s so beautiful and so splendid, it’s so easy to get lost, that you’re brought entirely into the moment, like a really good game of tennis or chess.

The most creative time of my life – writing the first draft of a novel in a hot, sleepless streak – coincided with the only time I’ve stuck with running. Living in central London, I’d run down the Euston Road into Regent’s Park, be gone for an hour, and return to my desk exhilarated. It was as if something in my brain were loosened up by all that movement and the rushing air.

Most thrilling was running through the cityscape: the commuters streaming out of Euston and King’s Cross stations, the medical staff and patients smoking outside University College hospital, the tourists outside the British Museum. I passed them all as if they were a film reel playing in slow motion, but of course they were going normal speed and I was going fast. I was running! Through a great city! It seemed unbelievable. Something of the confidence trick of being able to get away with it led to feats in other areas of my life.

While there has long been a link between literature and movement (think of Wordsworth, Thoreau and Whitman, who always seemed to be ambling across some field), the exercise memoir also acts as a bridge between running shoe slogans (Just do it!), self-help books (You can do it!) and literature (maybe it can be done, but there are obstacles and life is complicated and difficult and the road will not be simple – n on sine pulvere palma ).

So why write about something as mundane as going for a run?

The Long Run, by Australian writer Catriona Menzies-Pike

Maybe because completing a marathon or even a longish run is the Voss of our time, particularly if you’re a couch potato/booze hound/lazybones, for whom firing up Netflix and punching in your Menulog order is about as strenuous as it gets. There are no new continents left to discover; instead there is the vast, unknown continent of the self.

Do you have it in you to complete a tedious, painful and tough physical challenge? Or are you as soft as the cheese-crust pizza that was just hand-delivered to your door?

Then there is that feeling common to Sydneysiders after Easter, as they carry all the wine bottles out to the recycling; that autumnal stirring – the strange and odd longing to enter the City2Surf .

At the age of 30, Sydney writer Catriona Menzies-Pike surprised herself with a similar urge to run.

Her book The Long Run, subtitled “a personal and cultural history of women and running”, charts her journey from couch potato to marathon runner.

“In my 20s I had a good time in cocktail bars and libraries, and had no sporting talent,” she told Guardian Australia. “I went to see friends competing in a marathon and after seeing the spectacle of all these people finishing, I was curious to see how it would be feel to complete something. I was looking at it from a metaphysical experience, about what it was like to run a marathon.

“A few years later I was really unfit and I decided to run the City2Surf. It seemed like a perverse goal but I was flabbergasted about how much I enjoyed being on a treadmill and slowly getting better. I was really engrossed by the experience. I was surprised by how intellectually and emotionally engaged in it I was.”

After completing the City2Surf, Menzies-Pike started competing in longer races, building up to a marathon – but she found that the act of running itself was a revelation.

“Running has helped other parts of my life. It cracks open big wide spaces when you can run for large amounts of time. Some people find it mindful, other people find it good for problem-solving; for me it offers access to a varied mental space – it solves big problems in my life. Things do happen.”

For writers today, the muse is the running shoes.

The Long Run by Catriona Menzies-Pike is published by Affirm Press

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By Megan Baxter

True Story, Issue #21

Equally a meditation on the pursuit of running, a reflection on Lewis and Clark’s endeavor to map the continent, and an exploration of the body’s limitations, True Story #21 asks: Is it possible to outrun yourself?

Have you reckoned a thousand acres much? Have you reckoned the earth much?

—Walt Whitman

I want to say up front that I am not a good runner. I am neither very fast nor very graceful. I don’t run competitively, although I have completed a few races. But nor am I a jogger. Some people would tell you that although in both gaits there is a moment when both feet are off the ground, what distinguishes running from jogging is speed. Some people would tell you that runners strike the earth with the forefoot while joggers strike with their heels, but in fact many competitive long-distance runners are heel strikers. For me, the difference between the two comes down to intent. Jogging is something like a shuffle, a lack of commitment to intensity. But running . . . Running is a pursuit or an escape. To run, the body goes all in; every ligament and muscle fiber strikes, pulls, and returns to the earth; the runner tips forward like the front edge of a wheel, rolling into space.

I remember the first time I ran. I felt like a queen, divine on the earth. I was thirteen and had never run before. I remember the night clearly because of its novelty and because running is a little like taking flight. I often dream that if I run fast enough I will begin to fly, as if speed on the runway is all the jet plane requires.

A walking step, not too long, not too short—in the United States, roughly 2½ feet.

The sort of step I take around the edge of my yard in the morning, surveying the quality of the coming day.

To walk at a steady rate, back and forth, as an expression of anxiety.
To keep pace.
To measure by walking.

To pace is both to lead and establish competitive speed and to do something slowly in order to prevent overexertion. That is, although John Henry kept pace with that steam engine, he did not pace himself, and his heart burst, while the cold steel kept ringing.

In my sixth-grade history class, we did research papers on famous explorers. I was assigned Lewis and Clark and the Corps of Discovery. I became enamored of the two captains (although Clark was never officially granted that title) and especially fond of Lewis, who seemed, even from my amateur research in the middle school’s library, to be somewhat eccentric, somehow unfitting of the explorer archetype. Lewis was prone to what his contemporaries, including Thomas Jefferson, described as “hypochondria,” noting that the condition ran in Lewis’s family. Modern medicine would have diagnosed him with severe depression.

In 1809, at the age of thirty-five, Lewis committed suicide. It had been three years since the expedition had returned to St. Louis. In that time, he had run up debts, developed a crippling addiction to alcohol, struggled at his post as governor of the Upper Louisiana Territory, failed at love, and been unable, or perhaps simply too depressed, to complete his written account of his great journey. He was carrying his journals with him when he died. Revisionist biographers claim that his death was murder, noting the brutal nature of his demise, or that he died accidently while cleaning his pistols. Even as a girl, I knew this was wistful, their need to rewrite a hero’s end.

I include the details of that night here only to summon the horror I felt as a girl at the absolute darkness of suicide, that shutdown of all possible routes. The story begins always with two gunshots, one to the head, then another to the chest, fired from his pistols. Some sources say he died shortly afterward from the bullet wounds. Others claim that when Lewis’s servant found him, he was slumped on his buffalo and bearskin blankets, slicing his veins with his shaving razor. He begged the man for water. “I am no coward; but I am so strong, so hard to die,” he is reported to have said.

He bled out before dawn.

“I fear the weight of his mind has overcome him,” Clark wrote to his brother, describing Lewis’s passing. A few months prior to Lewis’s death, Clark had named his first son Meriwether Lewis Clark. He didn’t know that during the drunk, hallucinatory final days of Lewis’s life, his former traveling companion had claimed repeatedly that Clark was near and would help him. His servant reported his saying that “he herd [Clark] Comeing on, and Said that he was certain [he would] over take him, that [he] had herd of his Situation and would Come to his releaf.” I thought of the times when the two had separated on their journey to pursue forked waterways or explore passes through the mountains and how easily, and with what faith, they had found each other again in the wilderness. At his most lost, Lewis had expected Clark to locate him.

I wrote my research paper from the point of view of Lewis before he fired the first bullet, in a series of educational flashbacks. To me, he became a symbol of discovery, of expansion, but also of emptiness. How, I wondered—and wonder still—could a man fill his memories with so many maps of beauty, herds of 10,000 buffalo, Indian ponies in the Bitterroots, the Great Falls of the Missouri, and still shut down that vision from within? Could you run fast enough, or far enough, to escape yourself? I think not. I think Lewis taught me that you can’t outrun yourself.

When I was five years old, I almost died from a lack of oxygen. It felt not so much like Darth Vader’s invisible choking force strangling my throat as a slow march away from light. My nail beds turned blue. So did my lips. I remember the sensation of tunnel vision, zooming in on the flooring tiles. By the time I got to the hospital, the scary part—the “I can’t breathe” part—was long past. Sometime in that breathless night I had come to terms with the fact that I could die, though I think I must have understood it only as not breathing. I might have said that I understood that I could stop breathing and then rest, for it is very hard to breathe into the tight fist of asthmatic lungs, and I had been fighting that constriction for hours. The long sleep of death would have been welcome.

And because I had learned that it was actually rather easy to die, after I recovered from that near-fatal attack death became even more frightening. Death was in every inhale, every game of tag, every hide-and-go-seek chase, every gym class. My asthma was triggered by allergens and temperature changes, too, so petting a cat could be deadly, or helping my dad mow the lawn, or waiting outside for school to begin in a frigid New England winter and then charging into an overheated room in my snow suit.

My childhood was a well-regulated series of interactions, aided by medications. In any other age I would surely have died, if not on that night when I was five, then on one of the many other occasions when even triple doses of inhaled steroids failed and I was rushed to the ER. The doctors said there was a chance I might outgrow it entirely, but to imagine that I could grow out of such a routine, that my lungs would change like my breasts and hips would, seemed impossible.

Dear Meriwether Lewis,

In your dreams the country becomes a map with waterways like a surgeon’s guide to the circulatory system, upcountry, downstream, all following the easiest path. The mountains rise and again you are trapped in the snowy gulches and deep-throated avalanche channels. You at the mouth of the Columbia, where I’ve read there are more waterfalls per acre than anywhere else in the world; great corridors fall down into that river, steep and tough in the north and choked with a mist that breaks through the spruce and cedar at the coast. You are there at the edge of everything, camped for the wet season in a shingled fort, the rain in your bones and in the blue of your wrist veins. You trace them up the forearm, to that soft spot in the elbow and then up through your shoulder and across the breast bone, to where they meet and pulse. There is nothing to do but return, with your bags filled with specimens, the shining birds and prairie creatures, gutted and eyeless.

When Thomas Jefferson wrote to Congress to ask if he might send a party into Spanish territory for the purpose of “literary pursuit,” he meant to increase geographic and scientific knowledge.

When Jefferson wrote in his rough draft of the Declaration of Independence, “we hold these truths to be sacred & undeniable; that all men are created equal & independent, that from that equal creation they derive rights inherent & inalienable, among which are the preservation of life, & liberty, & the pursuit of happiness,” he didn’t mean happiness in the modern sense. The root of that word implies the fortune or luck that was once associated with the whim of the gods. Jefferson meant this older form of happiness, the happiness of the ancient writers, like Cicero and Plato, for whom it was found through morality, justice, and duty. Cicero wrote “a happy life consists in tranquility of the mind.” That tranquility consisted of living virtuously.

When the assassins hired by Mark Antony finally caught up to a fleeing Cicero on the road outside of Rome, they found the old essayist sweating in his carriage. Accepting his fate with manly grace, Cicero bared his throat to his murderers like a defeated gladiator. Before the orator’s body was brought to Rome, Antony ordered the hands and head to be cut off and had them displayed on the rostrum in the Forum, where Cicero had once delivered his famous speeches. The hands were brutalized for having written those words; the head, defiled for having spoken them. Antony’s wife pulled out Cicero’s tongue and jabbed it with her hairpin, so bitterly did she hate his essays against her husband’s power.

When you say happiness , think of a hairpin in the tongue and imagine fleeing for your life on a cedar-lined road; smell the dust and the horses. When you say freedom think of a life of essays. When you say power imagine two old hands.

The length of a man’s belt in medieval England. Irked by the inconsistency of this definition, King Henry I measured the distance between his nose and the thumb of his outstretched hand and standardized the unit.

In a Chinese-food restaurant I once overheard a first date combust as a drunk woodworking teacher explained to a stone-faced woman that he forced his students to use his body’s measurements to make their pencil boxes and birdhouses. One Bob ! he called it, and held his foot up for her so she could take note of that exact unit. The woman shuddered. Only kings can get away with this sort of thing.

To measure the world with one’s body seems a particularly gross form of egotism. But who understands time and distance in theory alone and not through the measurement of individual days or steps along a familiar running path?

I am in the pinewoods, and the light is still golden like it is in the summer in Maine. I am in my girl body again, lighter and strange to me. It is a body I have just been given, and it seems to do things on its own as if it just became mortal. We are playing Capture the Flag. The ground is a soft golden carpet of fallen needles.

The light is behind me. I feel its last warmth on my shoulder blades. At first I am walking. I leap to cross a log, and then I leap to cross another, and then I am running. I am not playing, I am not running for a flag, I am running for movement. Oh, the ground is soft under my sneakers! And the light fades behind me so that I am running into the darkness of the woods, and the sound of the other girls is getting dim behind me, and I am up a slight hill, and still running, and my legs move like some animal’s, and my arms pump like strong pistons. I breathe in through my mouth and nose and then out again, clear and fleshy, almost bloody but healthy, like the taste of a coin.

I run and leap until I am high up where the ground gives way to boulders, the bones of Maine, and I look down and see the lake and the camp’s roofs and docks. The girls yip in the pinewoods like coyotes, and briefly I feel myself above everything, the systems in my body working, invisible and perfect, pulsing, exchanging, and I love it for the first time ever, this body that is now mine, but night is close so I head back. Running down is almost better than running up. I am pumping and swift, and sweat is rising then running its own course over me, salty and new, until I am again among the girls from my cabin, and they are sweaty too and out of breath, and we walk together under the flickering street lights down the sandy path to our bunks.

I could measure my life in the running trails I have followed. I could map it for you from that first evening to this morning, when I returned to my home flushed with sweat and, closing my pores with a cold shower, sat down to essay running, to measure it properly against what I know of myself.

In 2007, when I lived in Portland, Oregon, I visited Cape Disappointment and Fort Clatsop, which during the stay of the Corps of Discovery was a miserable place but has since been transformed into an educational national memorial. The replica of Lewis and Clark’s split-log fort has been lacquered a shiny honey gold, and costumed rangers lead groups from the gift store to the film hall. The day I went was sunny, and the spruce needles glistened underfoot. Later, I drove along the Columbia River, marveling at the power of the water and the height of the gorge’s walls. All along the rocks, tiny waterfalls drained into the mighty river. I imagined Lewis shivering on the coast, bored during the cold, rainy winters. “Everything moves on in the old way,” he wrote—a haunting description of cabin fever.

At the time, I was training for my first marathon and took my long runs on Sauvie Island, just north of the city, where the Wilmette River joins the Columbia. Lewis and Clark camped there, scuffled with Native Americans, ate a potato-like food that grew wild on the island, and then pushed back upstream toward the mountains. As I ran I imagined I was retracing their route, expanding their maps each night. The long runs took up three or four hours of my Sundays, and I was always flush with excitement beforehand, wondering what I might see on the road. The running mind is the traveling mind, noting each odd color, granting each license plate and cloud formation significance. I gave names secretly to houses and trees I passed, just as Lewis had named rivers and mountains.

the average length of a man’s foot.

A woman’s foot is smaller, which is not to say her world is smaller, but rather measured differently. My foot is nine inches long.

In 2007, when I was twenty-two, I purchased a how-to book that began with the reassuring sentence, “Oprah ran a four-hour marathon.” The book was slim and contained training plans. It divided the work of training for a marathon into three categories: the long run, once a week, which I would take on Sauvie Island; the short run, which I would do as a loop around my apartment complex; and sprint intervals, which I would complete under the lights on my college’s track, long after the sports teams had left the field for the night. The long runs I found to be an exercise in patience. My mind created its own tricks, calculating my speed, naming the houses and farms I passed, watching the mountains on the horizon as Lewis and Clark might have as they rowed up the Columbia. The short weekday runs of between two and five miles were charmingly repetitive, in the sense that I could depart with no expectation for a timed mile. Fitting them in was the challenge since I could generate only a little enthusiasm for the slog. The track workouts, which consisted of quarter-mile sprints followed by prescribed rest periods, were the most physically demanding portion of my training. One loop around the track accounted for a quarter mile, so I could mark my pace easily. The struggle was to stay steady from start to finish, to push through with my original thrust during the final 100 meters.

My lungs burned. My legs threw themselves long on the track’s surface. The bright white lights above the fields made me feel Olympic, although I was alone in the drizzle and dusk. During the minutes of rest my ragged breath seemed amplified, all-consuming. Sweat grew cool on my skin. Then, at the beep of my watch’s timer, I was off again, along the same path, trying to summon the drive forward, with all my body calling for speed. The sprint required, in a short period, many cycles of motivation, like a compression of many days into one intense hour. Each sprint was its own expedition around the track, past the bleachers, the lampposts, the stadium gates. Every time I broke free from the starting line I had to commit, again, to flight.

To understand why I run, know that I both love and hate my body and have come to accept this balancing act. My body is like blood, constantly in flux, sometimes depleted and sometimes new and full of life. My body has been sick, and my spirit has hated being in a sick body. And of course I wish my body were something that it isn’t. I wish it were taller and longer. I wish my neck would grow a few inches and that my shoulders weren’t as wide as my hips. I could go on. When I was a sick kid, I dreamed of waking up in a new body. I dreamed of flying.

But when I am running I have to be with the body I have. Love it or hate it, there is no escape from it. Under the discipline of miles, the virtue of routine is that there is no turning back. There is just forward motion—the feet pulling and the hip flexors sweeping the legs back and my arms swinging, my chest slightly forward—and trying to breathe and not swallow the wind. The violence of running fills the body. Even at my leanest, running shakes me loose. Fatty female hips and ass jiggle, and I feel heavier than when I am standing still, as if motion itself increased gravity. I feel my bad right knee and my tight left hamstring and the curve in my spine where scoliosis takes it off course before it veers back again. There is no hiding when I am running.

To make it to the road I must first inhale medication, so before I even set out I acknowledge my limitations. This, my body screams, is what you’ve got!

Horsepower:

The amount of power required to lift 75 kilograms one meter in one second.

The engineer James Watt, who designed the machines that dug the coal that fed England’s Industrial Revolution, calculated that a horse could turn a mill wheel 144 times an hour. He sold his steam engines on the power of the horse: imagine all those beasts pulling, their breath rising, their hides slick, imagine that power inside a steel piston . Everyone then had seen how hard a horse can work. Now no one can remember it.

An article in Nature cites measurements from the 1925 Iowa State Fair, reporting the peak output of horses at 14.9 horsepower (which lasted but a brief few seconds as they pulled a weighted sled through what I imagine was damp sand in the humidity of a late August evening).

Many years later, on a cool August night in Berlin, under the flickering lights of the Olympiastadion’s half-domed ceiling, Usain Bolt generated just 3.5 horsepower during the 9.58 seconds it took him to run 100 meters, faster than any other recorded man or woman. No holding back, no! He wins! He kept running after crossing the finish line, at least another 100 meters, first holding his pointer fingers out long like a conductor orchestrating the cheering crowd, then with his arms out wide, like wings.

Whenever I move to a new place, or vacation somewhere for more than a few days, one of the first things I do is to go for a run. I am, like most, a creature of habit, so when I find a route that is enjoyable—a good length with varying terrain, not too many cars, no scary places like dark tunnels or alleyways where I might meet my end, and interesting things to look at; ideally a loop, but if not then an out and back—I run it again and again until I start to read the landscape for markers of my pace, until I start to tell the same story again and again.

In the history books they show you on a rise above the plains, in leather and uniform with a breeze from the Continental Divide blowing the fringe on your jacket back toward the Missouri. You squint into the western sun, like some great bird, just ahead of Clark with his sunburned skin and heavy forearms. I have always imagined you right before you put the first bullet in your head. Your intake of breath, like a storm’s first tracking up the valley, your eyes closed, finding your temple with the gun barrel, setting your teeth, and outside in that trailside inn, the other people drinking and falling asleep without terror, and the country filling in all the places that were only prairies and mountain ranges in your maps, and all of their quick starts at the sound of the gun while you faded, backward through increasing darkness, up to the spring source where the purest water rises.

Have you reckoned the earth much? asks Whitman. If you have run the same route many times, I think you have, at least that piece of it. You’ve learned its terrain, its highs and lows. You are familiar with its smells during different seasons and times of day (the sweet grass of summer, the dull salt of winter, the rising swampy springtime mornings and sharp autumn sunsets). You know the pattern of traffic and the paths of animals. On the side of the road you find the things that happened when you weren’t there to witness. In the night, deer were hit. Trash was thrown. A bottle was broken over the blacktop. On each run a new note reveals itself. Two fence posts closer together than all the rest. The tree scarred by a snowplow. On a clear, sunny day in November, when all the leaves are down, you look further into the woods and notice an old shack by the creek. The body works hard here on the hill but not on the long downslope to the pasture. And here the road tilts to prevent flooding, and your ankles sway under that strain. Jump a puddle. Skip over a rock that has rolled down from the cliff. Here, the blood pulsing hard in your ears. Here, the sweat drying on your cheeks. Here, the howls of dogs. Here, a strange silence from the swamp, the half-built subdivision, the echoing farmland.

In the Middle Ages, the amount of land a man with a yoke of oxen could plow in a day.

Like a man-hour, this unit is subject to specific conditions: the ox, the driver (a man of tolerance? a man of violent need?), the soil, the air through which they both must push.

The bones in our feet shifted as we began to walk upright. The shape of a foot can date a skeleton as quickly as can a skull or a jaw. As we evolved, the opposable big toe was phased out, so that we can no longer hang from a branch with our feet like we grip a barbell or bike handle or steering wheel with our hands. We became runners. We didn’t evolve to escape from lunging lions or packs of dire wolves; humans aren’t great sprinters. And anyway, everyone knows running from predators is a bad idea; it triggers their chase drive, and we simply won’t win in that race. Instead, ancient humans were long-distance hunters; they pursued animals until they ran up against cliffs or fell shaking to the earth with capture myopathy. In this hunt our hairlessness was perhaps our greatest advantage. We could sweat and release heat while our furry prey overheated to its death, and in this manner a beast with two legs could catch a beast with four.

There are traditional running cultures, and I claim no connection to their practices. When I think of those Incan heralds or the tribesmen of the African plains, I think always of my own death. I simply could not have survived in any time other than this one, and so nostalgic daydreams of living and running in times past are not longings of mine. I run to stay in shape, a problem that my ancestors would not have understood, in the same way that I can’t imagine the power of a horse on a mill wheel. What haunts me is the idea of chase, followed by the idea of escape, and the concept of measuring the earth with a body.

I have run away since I was a little girl, packing up and leaving home, moving instead of fighting. I have a powerful flight instinct. I say I run in pursuit of health, but I am also escaping its opposite. The idea of fitness is as powerful to me as my fear of sickness. My asthma is not influenced by my running, but my running will always be influenced by my asthma. The two exist together but are not equally affected. I will never outrun my asthma, but it will always bear on my running.

Through the map of years they hunt each other. One winning. One retreating. Then charging back. There are seasons when I am invincible. There are days when I come into my body weeping for its weakness. But had I nothing to fight against I’d have nothing to pursue.

Every clear night of their journey, Lewis and Clark made celestial observations, sometimes staying up well after their men, reworking their complex implements. On cloudy nights, when there were no visible stars to cast onto, they noted the temperature and tended to their maps. Even on days when neither man wrote a journal entry, they entered information on longitude, latitude, temperature, and weather. They named the rivers and mountains they’d passed during the day after sweethearts, heroes, and dogs. Although their collected work fills volumes, it is still incomplete. Whole books were lost or, perhaps, never existed. Clark dutifully kept a log, but in the summer of 1804, Lewis, who spent his days walking the banks alongside the Corps’ small fleet of boats, botanizing and keeping an eye out for Teton Sioux, rarely expressed his thoughts on paper. Was he joyous beyond words? Was he so focused on his saturated vision of expansion that the overflow of ink onto paper seemed unnecessary? He left to Clark the task of journaling, and I imagine him on the banks of the Missouri in the golden light of early fall, drawn away intensely by happiness, as he would later be isolated by pain.

The following spring, after the party pushed off from Fort Mandan, where they had camped through winter, and rounded the great bend of the Missouri, Lewis’s journal entries thicken. Some are over 5,000 words long and would have taken him, at a stream-of-consciousness pace, about two hours to write by hand. He seemed to have words for everything: specimens, geography, bear encounters. It’s during this time that he produced his best travel writing, summoning a sense of adventure and grandeur in his prose. But on June 13, walking ahead of the party as he often did, he confronted a sight that, despite his many words, he felt unprepared to describe. He’d discovered the Great Falls of the Missouri, a series of five linked waterfalls that would present a massive obstacle to the expedition. He sat down on the shore and feverishly wrote.

. . . my ears were saluted with the agreeable sound of a fall of water and advancing a little further I saw the spray arrise above the plain like a collumn of smoke which would frequently dispear again in an instant caused I presume by the wind which blew pretty hard from the S.W. I did not however loose my direction to this point which soon began to make a roaring too tremendious to be mistaken for any cause short of the great falls of the Missouri. . . . to gaze on this sublimely grand specticle . . . formes the grandest sight I ever beheld, . . . irregular and somewhat projecting rocks below receives the water in it’s passage down and brakes it into a perfect white foam which assumes a thousand forms in a moment sometimes flying up in jets of sparkling foam to the hight of fifteen or twenty feet and are scarcely formed before large roling bodies of the same beaten and foaming water is thrown over and conceals them. . . . from the reflection of the sun on the sprey or mist which arrises from these falls there is a beatifull rainbow produced which adds not a little to the beauty of this majestically grand senery. after wrighting this imperfect discription I again viewed the falls and was so much disgusted with the imperfect idea which it conveyed of the scene that I determined to draw my pen across it and begin agin, but then reflected that I could not perhaps succeed better than pening the first impressions of the mind. . .

He thought about crossing out his words and beginning again. His imperfect description disgusted him. He left the account in his journal nonetheless, sensing that time dulls memory. In it I read his rush of excitement, the thrill, and then his loss of faith in his ability to record it. You see him embark then retreat into darkness.

Heading out, my lungs expanding, I think of the pig’s lung I dissected in fifth grade; I stuck a plastic straw down the esophagus and blew into the straw. Careful, our teacher warned, don’t inhale. The lung ballooned out. I think of the tests I took in the hospital with an asthma specialist. I blew into a tube that was connected to a computer screen. I was the wolf, and my exhales were meant to blow down the door of the pig’s house. A scale at the bottom measured each puff.

Before I head out to run I suck on the red plastic mouthpiece of my inhaler. My lungs expand. I bend to lace my shoes. There is the house, then everything beyond it. Each foot claims a bit of earth. Sometimes when I leave I am reluctant. Sometimes I bolt into the dawn.

What I want more than distance now is speed. I want the sprint and thrust of a fast mile. The unbounded, reckless joy of that night in Maine, when my body was both my body and something new that drove me with it. A run is something faster than you want it to be. It is a statement against the body’s frailty, written on earth by the body. The contractions astound me, the stop and go, the pull and release of ligaments and tendons, how the legs load and unload in one swing and the heel bears weight and then takes flight.

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Running Away

Published by zona_seljouk in category Family with tag parents | soul

Like the vase,I knew for sure could never be fixed again; my soul and heart were on the verge of collapse.

I heard the glass vase hit the wall before it broke into a million pieces. Shouting and screaming followed afterwards.

Like the vase, I knew for sure it could never be fixed again;my soul and heart were on the verge of collapse. Another night here and I was sure enough that i could be called a lunatic.

“Shut up!” said my dad as he hit his fist into the wall, inches away from my mom’s face. Slight scratches on his arm, indicated struggle.

I was ready to run away. Ready to enjoy my freedom and my right to do what I want! Over the years, my mother subdued from being my best friend to being nobody. My step-father was a different story all together. He didn’t let me do this or let me do that. In extremis, I could not take it anymore. Moreover, I couldn’t tolerate this domestic violence. Maybe if I run away I would have another shot at life. My mind wandered off to a more important question.

Could I survive?

I had been planning to this for about a month now. I was 17 years old and I could handle myself now. I grabbed a bag and shoved my wallet, chips, water bottle and a book. I quickly managed to change my clothes and grab a few things on the way to my room.

The voices died down a bit as I opened my room’s window. I tied my hair and put my hoodie as a gust of cold air hit my face. I weakly held onto the window frame and glanced over my shoulder, at my picture-perfect room – one last time.

I carefully placed my foot on the aluminium frame and jumped. I firmly held onto a branch of an orange tree in my garden, just as a thorn sliced my finger. I winced in pain and placed my foot on the wall adjoining the gate. If there would be barbed wires or fences on these walls then I would have counted the days of my imprisonment.

A smile crept onto my face as I walked away without looking back. I was finally breaking free from insanity. I was running away!

My fears and all my tears were left behind. It wouldn’t be until tomorrow that my ‘so called’ parents would notice that I’m missing. Wild thoughts began entering my mind and I felt like a gangster who was part of the drug mafia. What if they run my photo on the television? I laughed at this thought and pushed it away.

I clenched my fingers onto the straps of my bag and took a deep breath.

I fully understood the consequences of running away. But who was I to blame? It was already too late. I was on my own now. I had to take care of myself now which also included a place to live, food to eat, clothes to wear and my source of income. Everything was carefully written down into the back of my mind.

I quickly checked into a hotel. Careful to pay it in cash, I had watched enough movies to be careful enough for not using a credit card. They could probably track me down.

I stared at the ceiling for a long time,with my shoes on the luxurious bed. I closed my eyes and let darkness wash my soul as an image of my parents and me crossed my mind.

–END–

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Running Poem Gift For A Runner By Helena Tyce Designs
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The Beginneres Guide to Running Away From Home, written by Jenniffer
Running Away Poem by C.R. Ebowski
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30 Best Never Running Away Quotes From Life Problems

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COMMENTS

running away
Bravery is the sweet-spot on a spectrum from cowardice to fool hardy. There are times when running away is that sweet-spot, when it is the brave choice. It is all a matter of circumstance, trust your instinct on which has arisen. By Angela Abraham, @daisydescriptionari, March 9, 2021 . When the emotional circuits are burning out from constant ...
How to Write a Running Scene
Make the reader feel connected to the character. » A. Have the reader empathize with the pursued - rather than the pursuer. I. Add more of how the character feels, their emotions and what they're thinking; it will really emphasize the reality of this danger situation. II. Make the reader feel the protagonist's fear.
How to Write an Effective Chase Scene
During the scene you want your sentences to be shorter than normal and fairly terse. So consider, for example, "Eric sped quickly past the grocery shop and ducked around a corner hoping to elude Tony.". You don't need "grocery shop" unless it's important and not obvious. Likewise you don't need "sped quickly.".
How to describe running through a forest. : r/writing
Every reader knows what running though a forest is like. They've either done it, or saw ROTJ. A lot of what makes novels magical is they engage the reader in being part of the process. Leave some room for the reader to contribute through their imagination. Say what kind of trees they are. Say how dense or sparse the underbrush is.
How To Describe Running In Writing (10 Best Ways)
Exploring the Emotional Landscape. Expressing the emotional journey of the runner. Crafting Dialogue and Interaction. Integrating conversations during running. Incorporating Literary Devices. Employing foreshadowing and symbolism. Addressing Diversity and Inclusivity. Ensuring representation in characters and settings. Frequently Asked ...
How To Describe Running In Writing (100+ Words & Examples)
Here is how to describe running in writing: Describe running in writing by using vivid sensory details, dynamic verbs, and emotional resonance. Explain the stride, speed, and distance. Capture the physicality with words like pounding, swift, and effortless. Evoke the runner's experience with phrases like heart racing and muscles burning.
How to Describe Running in Writing
The word "galloping" lends a sense of speed, power, and determination to a character's movements. It creates an image of a person running with long, powerful strides, reminiscent of a horse in full stride. This suggests that the person is running with great purpose, chasing after something, or fleeing from a threat. 6. Agile Definition
Creative Writing: Running Away
Creative Writing: Running Away; Creative Writing: Running Away. 1578 Words 7 Pages. The man stared at the screen after his reply disappeared into the ether, contemplating whether to attempt to trace Yardy29C or leave that to Hannah, and even after twenty seconds he was already impatient for her to reply. As if the cat could sense he needed ...
Creative Writing: Running Away
We have a way of getting in your head. I've got him now. I grinned, and looked him in the eyes. I'm in control now. You're going to do what I want. His eyes darted around the goal and shook my head at each twitch. 'Not there,' My knowing smile said. 'I've got it covered. Look here.
What to Do When You Have Run out of Ideas
Build momentum. Turn up and write everyday. Think of this as a build to point one, but the idea here is just write, good, bad, indifferent, turn up and do the work, the inspiration can be found in simple sitting and making being inspired a habit. When you write everyday, you will start looking for ideas everyday and figure out where the best ...
150+ Story Starters: Creative Opening Lines (+Free Generator)
They can be a way to show the reader the mood of a story. If you want to start a story, you can use a simple sentence. You can also use a question or an inspirational quote. In this post, we have listed over 150 story starters to get your story started with a bang! A great way to use these story starters is at the start of the Finish The Story ...
Narrative Essay About Running Away
Narrative Essay About Running Away. Human experience, however varied in its details, will always be a universal factor of life. This being said, it is commonly known that people run away, either from their homes or their problems, because they believe that they alone know what's right for them. Running away, regardless of the form it takes ...
What are some good reasons to run away from home? : r/writers
Remember, it's your story so be creative. don't just stick to the conventions! ... Try writing a character dossier. Then see if it helps you narrow down a reason. A headstrong character would t run away after a fight with mum, but a shy, insecure one might. On the other hand a head Arron character might run away cause she figures she has al the ...
Writing About Running Away. And, writing to come home
And, writing to come home. When I was in the third grade I ran away from home. Or at least, I tried to — I didn't quite get past the front door. It was a Chinese exam that had motivated this, or more specifically, my father's reaction to it. Upon laying his eyes on my score, a side of my father I had never seen before came to life, as ...
The Creative Writing, Running Away
"This can't happen to me!!! It just can't!!" I screamed. I ran out of my English class, towards the guidance office, but there they were waiting for me. I quickly did a 180, and dashed out the side door. I ran as fast as I could towards the little woods behind Greenwood High School. I wasn'...
Tips for writing characters who've run away from home?
FYI: Asking "Tips for writing X" is skirting close to breaking Rule3: This Is Not A Generic Creative Writing Sub. You should try to focus your question into a more specific aspect of what you are writing. Narrow the question down to a smaller part of the idea, let us know exactly what gaps you're facing and let us concentrate on one topic.
What we write about when we write about running
Plus you can do things while sitting, like reading books, and maybe even writing them. Try doing that while you're running.. Yet writers are increasingly coming out as runners.
On Running
Pace: Noun. A walking step, not too long, not too short—in the United States, roughly 2½ feet. The sort of step I take around the edge of my yard in the morning, surveying the quality of the coming day. Verb. To walk at a steady rate, back and forth, as an expression of anxiety. To keep pace.
Running Away
Running Away. Published by zona_seljouk in category Family with tag parents | soul. Like the vase,I knew for sure could never be fixed again; my soul and heart were on the verge of collapse. I heard the glass vase hit the wall before it broke into a million pieces. Shouting and screaming followed afterwards.
Creative writing running away
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Creative Writing Running Away
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