9 things running taught me about improv
Kill two hobby birds with one stone and knock some seconds off your sweep edits.
I had some extended time off improv recently (recommend), complete with space for other hobbies. One of those was running. I even joined a club, entered races and generally just ran more consistently. On one tarmac-grinding trundle, 9 similarities with improv sprung to mind. Why 9? Don’t ask too many questions. I’m not Murakami, it’s a listicle.
1. It’s not cool, so chill out
You’ve found the elixir of life in improv/running. The endorphins have made you high and evangelical. But, outside this serene cultish bubble, most people are utterly baffled at your dedication to a niche pursuit that’s famous for being bad. They’ll never get it.
Nervous runners lose speed when their body wastes energy on tension, rather than propelling forwards. Nervous improvisers trapped in their own head can’t listen to or support their partner.
Running Parkrun each week won’t make you a rippling adonis. The chance of you being picked up for a lucrative TV career from improv is nil-point-zero. About 20 people in the history of time have done it. Someone will always be faster and funnier than you. Free yourself of being cool by knowing your personal ‘why’ for doing it. You’ll have way more fun.
2. Work on your weaknesses, then your strengths
If you hate hills, run them in training. If you hate spacework, focus on it in rehearsal. Aim to be a little better, a little more adaptable, than you were last week. Add strings to your bow. Repeat.
3. Carve your own path
Don’t accept gatekeepers or wait for a theatre to give you stage time. Plenty of ‘hit’ improv shows started as indie shows for pals. DNAYS’ first Wunderkammer shows started there, then friends-of-friends, then new people entirely. Put on whatever show you want. Enter whatever race you want. Or do neither. You’re the boss of your life.
4. Not all successes are measurable
Sure, you can measure race-times or audiences, but they tell you nothing about how things actually felt. Turning up consistently is a success. Having fun is a success. Nudging at the edges of your comfort zone is a success. Or stay in that comfy zone if you like. I won’t gatekeep!
5. Find balance
There’s more to life than running. Cultivate different types of energy and resilience: You’ll get faster. Competing in a cross-country race alongside an 11 year old boy and 80 year old granddad is humbling. It chucks your ego in the drain and connects you with people you wouldn’t otherwise meet…. before you eat their dust in the race.
There’s more to life than improv: Cultivate other experiences to draw from. How many scenes about auditions, coffee shops or TV-cliches can you tolerate? When was the last weekend you didn’t visit an improv venue? Perform in new places, with new people or learn a new skill entirely. You’ll be far more interesting to watch.
6. Turn up
Confession time: I’m a terrible rehearser. I struggle adopting a performing mindset in an empty rehearsal room. But I still turn up. My group DNAYS rehearsed weekly for years. Steadily, we got better. We could afford iffy rehearsals, because we showed up week-after-week, committed to the same goal. Any decent running training plan says not to sweat each workout if you’re committing to the whole.
7. Look after your body.
You need rest. You can’t sprint a 10k. 80% of your running should be low intensity. Train slow, race fast. This protects you from injury and helps recovery from harder workouts. Equally, don’t burnout doing too much improv at top intensity. Our bodies aren’t designed for show-level adrenalin multiple times a week. Improv will still be there after you have a break.
Booze/ drugs/ tons of fruit pastilles won’t help. Drinking the night before, your morning run will be slower and less fun. While I’ve never run juiced like Ben Johnson in Seoul 88, I know from multiple Edinburgh Fringes that a post-show drink is nice, but makes being present and energised the next day far harder.
Improv environments with normalised binge drinking and substance use suck. It’s admittedly hard to avoid when most UK venues are in pubs. Put whatever you want in your body, but it’s a tough place to improvise from, risking show quality and how included people feel around you. Imagine the hilarious characters, dynamic space work, or deep show-closing connections you could create with a fresh mind.
8. Flow state is real
Things worth doing can be hard. When you first start running, every step is an effort. Running to the end of the street feels like Superhero territory. Then, over time, you’ve done a bunch of Parkruns, 10ks or longer. They’re still challenging, but you’re having fun: time flies.
When you first start improvising, every second is excruciating. You’re constantly confused and pulling-off a Harold feels like Superhero territory. Then, over time, you’ve done a bunch of 15 minute sets, mad tag runs and flopped more than you care to remember. Improv is still challenging, but you’re having fun: time flies.
For fleeting moments, things feel effortless. Flow State. Enjoy it. Normal service of screaming lungs, legs and ego will resume soon.
9. Get some super shoes
All hobbies have plenty of magical marketing mumbo-jumbo about products to make you better. Snake-oil classes on ‘game’ with Len Lee from East Portland Improv Attic don’t come cheap. They might help. They might not. One thing definitely works: carbon-plated shoes. Proven to improve performance by 4%. You’ll be flying round your local Parkrun and your sweep edits. You can’t blaze a PB in Converse Chuck Taylors.
Endnotes
Watching: This lad is very fast. Head to your local athletics track and try run his average one-lap time of 64 seconds. Then consider he did that for ANOTHER 56 MINUTES
Limmy with a warning about what could go wrong merging running and improv. True story.
A real, totally fictional list of improv teams in your city: Plush Gumbo, The Johnny Five Experience, Struwwelpeter, Mike & Sally, Shut That Door!, Donkey Garage Rock, and A-OKAY-SLAY
As an improvisor and a runner I loved these comparisons!