Like Running? Like Writing? Let's Hang Out.

“Being a writer” doesn’t have to involve publication or literary accolades (just as “being a runner” does not require racing competitively, or being able to run a certain distance or pace).

I’ll never forget the look on my boss’s face when, at the age of 25, I told him I’d be leaving my corporate communications job to accept a role as associate editor at Trail Runner magazine.

“There’s a magazine about running?" he asked. “How the heck is there that much to say about running?!”

I laughed and told him, “It’s even more niche than that. It’s all about trail running.” (I didn’t expect him to understand; the last time I’d changed into running clothes in our office restroom in order to jog-commute home that evening, he pointed to my headlamp and asked if I was going spelunking.)

The new job took me from Seattle to rural Colorado. The trail-running community became the biggest audience my writing had ever had. Every time I had the opportunity to write a long-form piece—about the thin line between life and death in the mountains, about how we might rethink the way we raise children, about the alchemy of grief—I felt honored to have a community hold space for my writing. I thank the many incredible souls who’ve entrusted me over the years to help share their stories with the world.

When I left the magazine, it was with the intention of writing full-time. I thought I’d branch out from writing about “just running”—and I did, including beginning work on a memoir that (a decade later!) is nearly finished, and only tangentially about running—but it turns out, I really love my fellow runners and I’ve just never tired of wanting to write for them. When Trail Runner invited me years ago to write a semi-regular column (of personal essays) for them on a freelance basis, I didn’t have to think twice before saying yes.

For years, I thought of these two parts of my identity—runner and writer—as disparate. Two worlds: the athletic one where I felt comfortable geeking out with people over goofy ultrarunning humor and goal races and training nerdery; and the literary one, which felt more distant and aspirational to me. Certainly not a home for me the way the trails have long been. I could go to trail races anywhere and make friends. But whenever I went to literary events—readings, writing conferences, book launches—I struggled with imposter syndrome.

“Oh yeah, I remember when I had to write for trade magazines to make a living, too,” an accomplished novelist once told me at a literary salon I attended several years ago, after I’d answered her question about where my writing had been published. I’m sure she didn’t intend to sound as condescending as she had, but comments like these left me with a bad taste in my mouth.

Several years ago, a couple new friends (hi, Caitlin and Ladia!) invited me to a book swap with a bunch of other trail runners. It was there, seeing many of my running buddies in “street clothes” for the first time and spending a sunny afternoon nerding out about books, that I realized that these two worlds—running and writing—are not mutually exclusive. Just because many of us identify most readily as runners doesn’t mean we don’t have other central aspects to our identities, too: many of us also write, make music, create art; many of us are also parents, partners/spouses, aunts/uncles, caregivers to aging parents or other loved ones. And isn’t it beautiful when we meet others who, like us, are trying to figure out how to find time and energy for it all?

When I got pregnant in 2020, I worried that my pregnancy would mean sacrificing my identity as a runner and thus growing disconnected from the running community. (Many runners coping with long-term injuries or burnout, or approaching the end of their competitive careers, are no doubt familiar with these same worries.) Instead, I found my friendships with other runners were strengthened by connecting about things other than just running.

Though running and writing are both inherently solitary activities, they certainly don’t have to be. The running community is, in fact, the biggest factor (among many!) that’s kept me lacing up my running shoes year after year. In three different places I’ve lived, I’ve started beginner-friendly running groups to help change the minds of people who think running isn’t for them.

I’ve often lamented that I’ve never found, or known how to create, the same sense of belonging in the literary world. But here’s the truth: “Being a writer” doesn’t have to involve publication or literary accolades (just as “being a runner” does not require racing competitively, or being able to run a certain distance or pace). Writing takes many forms: journaling, emails or letters or texts to loved ones, poetry, essays, thoughtful Instagram captions. In this sense, I truly believe everyone is a writer. (And, y’all, I truly believe everyone can be a runner, too. If you feel otherwise, let’s talk.)

Anyway, this is the space in which I am most interested in continuing to foster community. I want to meet you all out there. I want to write to, and for, you. I want to read your words—on running, and on everything else in this beautiful and broken world. I want to create a space for all of us who enjoy moving our bodies and exercising our minds to connect with one another, with no fears of imposter syndrome.

To my old boss at the startup: I guess that with the launch of this paywall-free Substack and accompanying Instagram page, I’m getting even nichier than ever. But somehow, I think my world is about to get bigger, rather than smaller.

I can’t wait to get to know you all.

-Yitka Winn

Photo by George Orozco

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