We talk to the British photographer and cinematographer about the art of capturing the key moments, as well as approaching the sport from a different angle

The job isn’t done when the race is over, the final jump has been taken or the last throw has been sent out into the arena. “You've got to see what's going to happen, predict a lot, be ready and keep shooting,” says Dan Vernon. “Because a lot of what happens happens after the obvious moment.”

He is trying to distil the sort of alchemy that goes into the art of sports photography. In the age when artificial intelligence is threatening to eat anything creative in its path, and when camera equipment has never been of a higher quality or easier to use, it’s reassuring to hear that the process can still be hard to define and not easily packaged. 

The 42-year-old Englishman, whose brother Steve competed internationally for Great Britain in cross country and mountain running, has his way of doing things and it has worked for a long time now. For over a decade, the photographer and cinematographer has been documenting many of the world’s most important events, moments and athletes.

If you have watched the recent Amazon documentary series about Faith Kipyegon’s attempt at breaking the four-minute mile, the coverage of Eliud Kipchoge’s successful sub two-hour marathon mission in Vienna from 2019, the AW film about Keely Hodgkinson’s attempt to break the world indoor 600m record, or if you are a regular reader of this magazine, then you will be familiar with Vernon’s work. Through talent, hard graft and the building of trust, he has been on a journey that has taken him well and truly behind the track and field curtain. 

“I remember filming a short piece in the call room at the World Championships in Budapest [in 2023],” he says. “You’re stood there, the world's greatest athletes are all around you and you think: ‘S***, this is a really privileged position to be in. Whatever I get now, I'm the only person that's going to be able to get this at this moment’.”

Whether getting up close and personal to capture a quiet, reflective moment in training, or going full widescreen in search of the perfect shot from the infield of a pulsating stadium, Vernon is always reading the room, looking for clues that will tell him which direction to take. 

A strong sense of responsibility to do a good job, a few pre-match nerves and a mind fizzing with creative ideas and possibilities means that sleep, before a big event, important filming session or during a major championships, can be hard to come by.   

“Also, I'm competitive as f***,” laughs the former keen hockey player. “When you are sitting there with all the photographers, you can spot the ones that are competitive, and we are a competitive bunch. It's way more friendly than it used to be but some of us really want to, well, win. I want to get good images. I want my images to be seen. It's my replacement for sport, I think.

“I love the adrenalin of being in a situation that I know is going to be difficult. That buzz and nervousness is addictive and being sat on the infield at a major championships…I remember walking out during the first session of the athletics [at the Olympics] in Paris last summer. There was a French girl taking part and the reception she got gave me goosebumps. That’s when it was: ‘Right. We’re here. This is happening’. That feeling is so good. It’s as close as I’ll get to competing. It’s the privilege of being part of something really special.”

In those situations there is a pressure, self-imposed or otherwise, to get the images or footage to match. And to come up with something different – a particularly difficult thing to do given the everything, everywhere, all at once nature of a live athletics meeting. 

“You've got to push your brain,” says Vernon. “You've got to get the finish [line shot] but, a long time ago, I started to think: ‘Why am I sitting here next to him? Because he's going to get that [shot]’. So I would start to move [around the stadium]. And it is a trade-off. There's a reason we gravitate to certain positions, because the shot is there, but I think you're always rewarded by being somewhere else. And it might not necessarily be a winning shot, but it'll be something that no one else got. 

“If you're around the other side of the bend at 100m, and someone's just won, while the wider competition carries on, that celebration might continue. The winner might see a family member, they might see a team-mate doing the long jump, and they have a moment together.

“It might be that seventh place got a record of some sort so, when everyone crosses the line, you're looking for reactions. You think: ‘Why are they celebrating way more than someone else?’ I've got to get that because there's something in that. That's why, once the race is over, keep shooting.”

In certain situations, though, it’s just as important to know when to stop. 

“I think you've got to follow your values and your morals before anything else,” adds Vernon. “So regardless of what you think you want, you have to say to yourself: ‘Am I going to disturb an athlete? Am I putting an athlete in danger? Am I affecting what a judge has to do? Am I in front of a TV camera? Am I in front of other photographers’ shots?’ You have all these rules that I think are very personal to you, while some of them will dictate whether you are allowed back in there or not.”

He adds: “If I'm asked to do something with an athlete in training, I won't be asking them to repeat things. I won't be altering their training session. It’s my job to get it. If I miss, it's my fault. I'm not going to say: ‘Can you just run up that hill again, because it looked really cool?’ No, that's my screw-up.”

Such considerations have helped to give Vernon a ringside seat to observe how some of the greats go about their business, from training camp to race day. That doesn’t come without its pressures, either. Take Nike’s Breaking Four project, with Kipyegon at its heart, as an example. On one hand, there was a pressing need to get as much material as possible to keep all manner of interested parties happy but, on the other, there was an athlete who needed to remain in the best shape, physically and mentally, to take on a major challenge when the world was watching. That, once again, involves reading the room.

“I got to know Faith and learn what she does physically with her body when she doesn’t want someone there,” says Vernon. “She’s too polite to say no but she has these physical cues which I could pick up on. [It meant] I worked on that project with the main motto of ‘If she’s alright, I’m all right’.”

Given the amount of time Vernon has spent in the company of these athletes, has any part of their philosophies, processes or outlook rubbed off on him? Has he adopted any of their habits? Not quite.

“It’s realising and having it cemented in yourself that you are not them and you could never be them,” he says. “I see the characteristics they possess – and I’ve seen this in my brother, too – and I realise that my make-up couldn’t put me in a position to be an individual elite athlete. Put me in a team sport and I’m a completely different human being – I’d kill myself for a team. I did that in sport and I do it now as part of my work.

“It’s seeing the difference between me and them rather than thinking: ‘I should be a bit more like that’. So it gives me an admiration for who they are and also an empathy. I see how hard it must be to be that person, to have such single-mindedness and focus. 

“I did take a lot from [Kipyegon and Kipchoge’s coach] Patrick Sang. You learn about people in this business, especially when you spend so much time with them, and he is so good at reading people. That’s a real skill and I loved to watch how he can do that. Someone who had met him for the first time would think he’s this funny guy who likes to joke around but he’s picking up on and understanding so much. His understanding of an individual and a human being is incredible.” 

So, the next time you’re at an athletics event, take a moment to watch and spare a thought for the small army of people who are lugging all of that gear as they patrol the infield, racking up thousands of steps as the elite stride out on the track.

“It's just this mass puzzle that you've got to work out in a very intense area where you've got to look out 360 degrees and have your head on swivel,” says Vernon. But just don’t think there isn’t a very human element at play to all of this, either. 

“Whenever I see any of the athletes at the start line of these events, I have total respect for what they’ve done to get there,” he adds. “Regardless of who they are, they’ve done something special to get there. They’ve done their best so the least you can do is your best to record that race.” 

Perhaps AI still has some catching up to do.