In every runner’s stride lies an individual choice, yet also a collective dimension—shaped by creativity, expertise, progress, and aesthetics applied to the world’s oldest, yet ever-evolving, sport. Athleta Magazine and Runaway shine a light on the figures who embody the unique multidimensionality of running: the ‘RunMakers’—those who have discovered far more than a mere pastime in this discipline, but rather a platform to affirm and evolve their visions, even from a professional standpoint. They are key players in an industry that, for each ‘RunMaker’, is synonymous with passion, expertise, and philosophy.

Let’s explore why with our new ‘RunMaker’, the British photographer and visual storyteller Dan King. His lens is synonymous with the emotional and sensory exploration of what lies at the heart of every runner, and every athlete—where the intersection of effort and awareness becomes aesthetic ecstasy, and reveals deeper meanings. Let’s listen to his reflections and step into a gallery inspired by the muse of running.

Can you tell us about your personal journey and sporting background? 

“I didn’t really have much of a sports background growing up. Back in school and college, I was more into computers and tech stuff—sports just weren’t on my radar. It’s funny to think about it now, because these days I run a lot, and I sometimes catch myself thinking, “Man, I wish I was as good at running back then as I am now.” Maybe I would’ve even been a bit more popular or something.

The first sport I really got into was cycling. At the time, I was working at a computer company, stuck in this office all day. There was a guy who sat behind me—he was Italian, and totally into cycling. Every day he’d show up in the elevator with this old Italian road bike, all decked out in Lycra. Honestly, I thought he looked kind of odd at first. But I was curious, so I started asking him questions here and there. Then, one day I noticed he was watching something on his computer. I asked him what it was, and he said, “The Tour de France.” I was bored out of my mind at work, so he sent me the link—back then you could stream it on this site, Steep Hill TV, without VPN—and I just got hooked. It was the year Lance Armstrong had made his comeback. And from there, I was in.”

When did you decide to combine your photographic art with the world of sports imagery? And what role has running played in your artistic development?

“My relationship with photography started with my grandad. We’d go to his house, and he’d show us all these photos from his holidays. He usually traveled alone, and he’d sit us down and go through every picture. I remember thinking, “This is so boring—who wants to look at someone else’s holiday photos?” So, yeah, photography wasn’t something I was into at all back then. I had no training, no background—nothing. I just started taking photos of things I liked, really casually. Instagram played a big part. You start seeing imagery that inspires you, and like everyone, you begin trying to replicate it. That’s how it all kicked off. Then, a few years ago, this wheel brand reached out and asked me to shoot their sponsored team, which at the time was Canyon DHB. That was the moment things got real. I went with them to the Tour of Britain. I had no professional experience—I was just a huge cycling fan and a cyclist myself—but suddenly I was immersed in it, traveling with the team, taking photos. I absolutely loved it. And it just grew from there.

Before all of that, though, I had already dabbled in running. A friend suggested we train for a marathon together. We started training, but he dropped out within two weeks. I decided to keep going. I got really into it. So technically, running came before cycling for me. But once I fell in love with cycling, running kind of took a backseat. I guess I found cycling easier—if you’re tired, you can still coast, you’re still moving. When you’re running, if you’re done, you just stop. But, as I started working more in cycling, the bike didn’t always come with me—especially on shoots or trips. So I picked up running again. It was the simplest way to stay active: I’d run from the hotel in the mornings. Gradually, I got back into it. Another great turning point came when I started shooting for Trek. I was covering for another photographer, Jojo Harper, while she was on maternity leave. We had a similar visual style, so when Trek decided to shift directions, I suddenly had to figure out my next move. I thought—“Why not get into running photography?” So I messaged a few runners on Instagram and asked if I could shoot them. And it just took off.

I’ve been lucky—some great opportunities came quickly. After a short time shooting cycling, I found myself in the WorldTour. Then, as I pivoted back to running, I landed a job shooting for adidas and Maurten at the marathon. That first big break in running came thanks to Jojo. I was shooting on her behalf, but then other brands started reaching out. One job would lead to another. I ended up shooting several road marathons for Maurten. Then came a major moment: Maurten asked me to go to Western States to shoot with Tom Evans. I’d already spoken to Tom before, so I messaged him like, “Hey mate, Maurten wants me to shoot Western States with you.” He was sponsored by Terrex then, and he put me in touch with their team. I told them I was coming for Maurten and happy to help in exchange for access. They were super supportive and handled all the logistics, which is key for a race like Western States—you really need to know where to go. A few months later, they invited me to UTMB. That was my entry into the trail running world.

Honestly, trail is my favorite. The scene, the energy, the people—it’s just different. It still feels grassroots. If you tell a pro cyclist you’re going for a quick ride after a shoot, they won’t join you. But with trail runners, if you say, “I’m going for a 5K,” they’ll come with you. That community vibe is real. Now, I’d say a lot of the adidas trail runners feel like actual friends. We talk regularly. It’s just this really natural, supportive connection. Trail running has just become a bigger and bigger part of what I do—and I love it.”

In your view, is there a link between the philosophy of running and your artistic vision in photography? For example, aspects like endurance, concentration, and a certain type of ‘beauty in motion’?

“People sometimes say they see a certain connection in my imagery—and I think that comes from the fact that I run. Running is actually a really hard sport to photograph. A lot of the time, it just looks like someone bouncing up and down. So for me, I always try to lean into the people, the emotion, and being as close as possible. That’s really the essence of my style: up close, wide angles, and right in the moment.

Because I run, I instinctively know—“When would I be suffering the most? What would I be feeling right now?—and I look for that in others. A lot of my photos come from those thoughts. Like, someone’s just crossed the finish line and they’re completely wrecked—that’s interesting to me. So I go straight there. Same thing at aid stations. But honestly, I often spend more time just talking to the athletes and their crew than actually taking pictures. That’s a huge part of documentary work. If they don’t see you as ‘the camera,’ you can be present for incredibly intimate moments—when it’s just them and their support crew. And they trust that I’m not going to take a photo that makes them look bad, so they let me in. That trust is everything. Whenever I’m shooting something new, I always take the time—especially at the start of the day—to just talk. The camera might be around my neck, but I’m engaging with them, not hiding behind the lens. Unless you’re a model or an actor, being in front of a camera is uncomfortable. I get that. So I try to be as unobtrusive as possible, choosing moments that genuinely interest me without overstepping.”

As you highlighted, your work seems like a gallery dedicated, first and foremost, to human beings before athletes, and to their stories. What drives you to search for their human nuances? Are you actively looking for these stories, or do they come to you? 

“At the core of it, for me, a photo starts with the person. I like landscapes, don’t get me wrong—when I’m at the top of a mountain during UTMB, I love just taking it in. But I’m not immediately thinking ‘camera, now.’ I’m thinking, “Where’s the person?” That’s where the story is. There are often more humans than athletes in my shots. That’s intentional. I try to capture a moment—something I’ve seen that athlete do before, but as a person, not just a competitor. Like at the UTMB finish line, I once photographed Rob Muecke, of the adidas Terrex team, leaning head-to-head with one of his runners. I’ve seen him do that so many times, and it always comes from a place of real passion. I knew it was going to happen—I waited for it. 

I know Toni McCann tends to lean against something after finishing. Eric LaPuma will usually collapse to the ground, and Joanne, his partner, will be there. I’ve watched these moments happen over and over. So a lot of what I capture isn’t just chance—it’s anticipation. It’s knowing people. Maybe it’s because I’m colourblind, but what really draws me into a photo is the light—and again, the moment. I need both. I want the image to tell me something I didn’t already know. I want to see something different in that person.”

Human achievement, passion, and dedication. These three themes, which are central to your photographic exploration, are elevated through running. What does storytelling mean to you? And how are you developing it? 

“Honestly, I’m just kind of fed up with short-form content. I’m really disappointed with the way platforms like Instagram and their reels have shaped storytelling—everything’s so fast, so superficial. That’s why I think long-form storytelling is more important than ever. It gives people the space to really be understood, to speak in their own time. Because the truth is, we’ve all had moments where we were caught off guard—someone asks a question, you’re distracted, you’re in a different headspace, and you reply quickly or even dismissively. But that moment doesn’t really represent who you are. That’s the trap of short-form—it lacks context, depth, and grace. What I want to do with storytelling is offer space—for people to share who they are without being rushed. And with athletes, especially, I often only see them for a few fleeting moments. For example, I spent some time behind the scenes with Kipchoge. He barely noticed I was there—he was focused, in his world. You don’t get much interaction in those moments. But then you see him or other athletes again the following year, and again the year after that. And slowly, you build something—like a gallery that comes together over time. 

Right now, I’m working on a couple of film projects that go deeper. The idea is to live with the runners for a few weeks at a time, a couple of times a year. No pressure—just be there, camera in hand, present. You give your time, build trust, maybe even become friends. The story unfolds naturally. It’s a slower process, no doubt, but it feels more honest. More human. And if I look back to why I left computers and tech in the first place, it was because I wanted to work with people. I wanted to spend a day doing something meaningful, even if it didn’t lead to a big business opportunity. That still holds true today. Whether I land a magazine feature or a brand campaign doesn’t really matter—if I’ve spent the day with someone, listened to their story, shared something real, then that’s a good day.

Sometimes the person’s not quite ready. Their story might be powerful, but they can’t express it on camera yet. That’s okay too—it just means we need more time. Maybe the emotion isn’t accessible yet, or the person is too reserved. In those moments, I know it’ll take time to build trust, to go deeper. That’s the work. And I think that’s why brands reach out to me. They want to tell real stories—authentic ones. And to do that, you have to go beyond the surface.”

With the rise of social media, how do you think sports photography, especially related to running, is evolving? Do you think photographers can contribute to creating a visual narrative that is inclusive and representative of the diversity of runners out there?

“I’d go as far as to say that the creatives in this space are actually redefining it. Trail running—and running in general—has stayed the same for a long time. The only reason it feels new, exciting, or even cool now is because of the way it’s being portrayed. Visual culture has completely shifted the perception of the sport. It used to be that race photography meant a guy in a high-vis vest standing at a set corner or the finish line, shooting with a long lens. Then you’d see those same shots in a running magazine—nice landscape, tiny runner, same formula every time. That still exists, of course. But now, there’s a new wave of photographers and creatives who are telling the story from the inside out. They’re running up mountains, standing in rivers, experimenting with light, flash, film, whatever they can—because they’re trying to capture the feeling of the sport, not just the surface. That’s what makes this moment so exciting. Of course, there are always two sides: the traditionalists who want to guard the old ways—“This is how it’s done, we wear the vests, we take the finish line shots…”—and then this younger generation who are like, “Screw that. I’ve got one camera, maybe a flash, and I’m gonna shoot it my way.” And they’re doing it. They’re reshaping how we see running. 

In a way, running has merged with fashion, lifestyle, even identity. It’s become something you wear, something you show, not just something you do. And that’s largely because the athletes themselves are also content creators now. They’re producing their own visuals—really good ones too. It’s shifting the power dynamic. Look at The Boulder Boys, for example. Their podcast, their content—it’s fresh, it’s personal, and it challenges the old model. I think big brands are being forced to reconsider how they cover athletes. For years, they’ve relied on surface-level content—quick reels, polished ads—but people want more now. They want stories. Authenticity. Access. That’s why I’m a big believer in embedded creators. If you’re investing in athletes to win races, why not invest in the people who can tell their story in the best possible way? But the problem is, a lot of big brands are scaling back. They just want quick hits for social media, a 30-second reel on the day of the race. And sure, you can do that—but if you have someone embedded who knows the athletes, that same 30-second reel will be 10 times more powerful. Because they’ll know what moments to look for, what boundaries to respect, and what story’s actually worth telling.”

What are your future narrative goals?

“One of the projects I really want to make happen is a four-year documentary—the road to LA. I want to follow a group of athletes from different disciplines as they prepare for the next Olympics in Los Angeles. But more importantly, I don’t want it to end with the Games. That’s the biggest misconception: that the finish line is the end of the story. It’s not. What I want is to follow them beyond LA—whether they win or lose. I want to be there in the days and weeks after, when the medals have been handed out, when the cameras are gone, and they go home. That’s where the real story unfolds: how they process the outcome, how it changes them—or doesn’t. How they rebuild, or reimagine their path.

I’m thinking of a long-form project—maybe a film, maybe even a book. I’d love to sit down with an athlete now, look at their calendar, and say: “Listen, whatever happens—injury, breakthrough, setback—call me. I’ll be there.” And when it’s ready, we’ll find the right way to bring it to life. Since the beginning of this year, I’ve started laying the groundwork—connecting with a few athletes, trying to get that slow-burn trust going, so that we can document this whole arc together. Those are the kinds of stories I want to film. The emotional whiplash. The quiet aftermath. The invisible struggle. That’s powerful. 

I did an interview recently with a UTMB athlete who thought their career was over due to injury—and they came back, finished the race, and that’s the kind of story that makes you want to run. That’s the kind of story that makes you believe in something. And sure, you see an adidas logo at the end of that film and think, “Yeah, I’ll go run with them.” But it’s more than brand—it’s belief. It’s something that resonates in you. I’m also really interested in the stories of the athletes just below the top tier—the top 10 finishers, the middle of the pack. The elite stars are incredible, but they’re wired differently. Sometimes they can’t even articulate what went wrong—because to them, it was just the wind, or timing. But that next layer down? That’s where the real stakes are. Finishing in the top five, top ten—that’s the difference between being paid or not. Between getting another year in the sport or having to walk away. Those athletes are fighting for it. They don’t have the luxury of detachment. They have to grind, adapt, take hits and keep moving—and those are the stories I want to chase. That’s where the heart is.”