Franz Kafka’s Secret Life: Fitness, Love Letters, and Burned Books

Franz Kafka isn’t a stranger to those familiar with literary classics. He is often remembered as the emblem of modern misery—an exhausted figure caught in an endless struggle with existence. But the life Franz Kafka actually lived was far more nuanced than the static image many carry of him today.

Behind the image of the tortured, reclusive writer was a man who—at least for a time—led a surprisingly structured life. He held a steady professional life, cared for his fitness, and found moments of clarity through his writing. To those who actually knew him at the time, Kafka appeared intelligent, charming, and even humorous to many.

However, beneath that structure was a man who poured his soul into letters, who requested that most of his work be destroyed after his death, and who struggled to reconcile his inner world with the life he outwardly lived.

In this blog, we delve more deeply into the nuanced and secret life he led, one that extended far beyond the pages of his fiction.

Kafka at Work: The 9-to-5 Life

“I am not twenty years more experienced, I am twenty years more wretched.”

― Franz Kafka, Letter to His Father

Kafka’s days began in courtrooms and office buildings. After studying law at Charles Ferdinand University and earning his doctorate, he completed a mandatory year as a clerk in the civil and criminal courts. But what he really wanted was time—to write, to think, to be alone.

His first job at Assicurazioni Generali offered a good salary but demanded long, rigid hours. It left little room for writing. Kafka didn’t last long. He soon moved to the Workers’ Accident Insurance Institute for the Kingdom of Bohemia—a position with more stability and more time. He stayed there for over a decade, balancing his 9-to-5 by day and writing by night.

Kafka’s Obsession with Fitness & Sports

“All he wanted to do now was to get up quietly and undisturbed, get dressed, and, most important, eat breakfast, and only then consider what to do next, because, as he was well aware, in bed he could never think of anything through to a reasonable conclusion.”

― Franz Kafka, The Metamorphosis

Far from the image of a fragile recluse, Franz Kafka was an all-out sports enthusiast. He hiked, rowed, played tennis, and followed workout routines inspired by J.P. Müller, a celebrity Danish fitness guru. He maintained fitness and self-care routines with a balanced diet to counterbalance the grind of office life. But it was swimming that held his heart.

The rhythm of swimming became a rare form of escape for him—a space where his body felt unburdened. So essential was this ritual that Kafka would enquire about swimming facilities before travelling. He also held a long-standing membership in a swimming school in Prague. For Kafka, swimming, fitness, health, and self-care weren’t just leisure. It was a necessity.

Kafka’s Love Letters & Burned Books

“You are the knife I turn inside myself; that is love. That, my dear, is love.”

― Franz Kafka, Letters to Milena

Kafka loved most fiercely on paper. His relationships—with lovers, with his father, even with himself—unfolded not in conversation, but in pages.

Between 1912 and 1917, he wrote over 500 letters to Felice Bauer (collected in Letters to Felice), his fiancée—twice—in a relationship filled with longing, self-doubt, and eventual collapse. With Milena Jesenská, a Czech journalist and translator, his letters grew more urgent, raw, and emotionally exposed. To Milena, Kafka revealed his most intimate self—and entrusted her with his diaries.

In his final year, Dora Diamant became his closest companion. They lived together in Berlin until his death, and Kafka gave her his last letters and notebooks—some of which she later burned in front of him at his request.

Most haunting of all is Letter to His Father—never sent—a devastating account of childhood wounds and emotional silence.

Kafka asked for all his writings to be destroyed. His friend Max Brod refused, preserving the letters, fragments, and unfinished novels Kafka tried to hide—and couldn’t stop writing.

Kafka’s Conflicted Life

“I have the true feeling of myself only when I am unbearably unhappy.”

― Franz Kafka, The Diaries of Franz Kafka, 1910–1923

Even as Kafka tried to maintain order—through routine, through health, through writing—his inner world remained deeply unsettled. He battled what we now understand as clinical depression, anxiety, and the lasting impact of childhood trauma. These inner conflicts seeped into every corner of his life, leaving their mark on even his closest relationships. Tuberculosis would eventually claim his life, but it was the long-standing tension between control and collapse that caused him misery till the end.

By preserving Kafka’s works against his wishes, Max Brod ensured the world could glimpse the full spectrum of a man who lived quietly, thought deeply, and wrote like he couldn’t help it. What survives today is not just Kafka the writer, but Kafka the human being—flawed, brilliant, disciplined, haunted, and, despite everything, still reaching out through his words.