What I Talk About When I Talk About Running, by Haruki Murakami
Latent Book Club Review #2412
Murakami’s beguiling curiosity about the world intrigues you to delve closer into what makes him tick, in this semi-autobiography in which he sometimes runs.
We are often admonished to not judge a book by its cover, but this is the exception that proves the rule. Both the cover (it’s a man running over a brush that doubles as a pen, with a homage to the Japanese flag in the background!) and the content of What I talk about when I talk about running are great.
Murakami would undoubtedly argue his take on running is unique to him but, simultaneously he does much to inspire the aspiring runner too. He proves anyone can be a runner.
So what is this book about? Everything, really. It’s part autobiography. Part running philosophy, part training tips (even if he says it isn’t) And also, part humility. There is something so humble about Murakami - he doesn’t try to force his running philosophy on you; he’s not trying to sell you anything. He remains, in the way of the best thinkers, mildly surprised by his own success, and intellectually curious about everything and everyone.
He remains, in the way of the best thinkers, mildly surprised by his own success, and intellectually curious about everything and everyone.
Murakami is at once in tune with his own desires, but never prescriptive. He tells the reader the effect it has had on his health - net positive, although he never puts down the beers, nor does he seem to want to. He can’t seem to kick the smoking entirely, even though it clearly has a negative affect on his performance. There’s a cultural dimension to both of these things - Murakami was a jazz bartender for years in Japan, a country notorious for its love of smoke and alcohol.
And there’s a pean to hard work too, even if he doesn’t emphasise this aspect of his life much. Never very good at school, Murakami worked hard for years, day in, day out, to make his bar a success. When it finally got to a point where it was self-sufficient, he doubled down on writing. Not because success was guaranteed, but rather —he did it for him. And he was great at that too. Incredibly talented, incredibly lucky, or most likely a combination of both, with a work ethic of someone who has never had much, Murakami carved out a niche in Japanese literature that took him to the world stage.
In a book about running, we should not be surprised if there are some stories about it. Murakami cluses us into his personal thoughts as to why he does it, and what he thinks he gains from it. While he was writing, while he was bartending - in the meantime he was running. His tales from the trail are sometimes inspiring, sometimes painful. He describes running a marathon on a day so hot he wipes crystals of salt from his face. He tells you how he can tell the difference between an experienced runner and an amateur (its all in the breath; experienced runners breathe in a controlled fashion, new ones panic). He tells you how he can differentiate between those who are lighting quick, but merely have youth on their side, and those that can really go the distance. And, as mentioned, he does this in such a humble way —there’s no jealousy, or bitterness, even when age creeps up and his own performance begins to decline. There are observations: they’re going this way, and i’m going mine. And the book is the better for it.
Naturally, merley running was not enough for him, and he graduates to triathlons which are a different type of challenge. The cycling, in particular, was an eye opener for him, not only because it is so fast (hurtle along at close to 30 miles an hour on a flimsy bike and see how safe you feel), but the positioning (over the bars) is enough to break people. And it certainly injured him.
In one of his first triathlons, he is surprised to be elbowed and kicked out of the way by his fellow swimmers. He is frustrated, sure, but doesn’t seem to begrudge them. They’re just trying to get there as fast as possible, just like he is. In another episode, he accidentally smears vaseline on the inside of his goggles, by wiping his face with his hand after applying it. This small mistake nearly costs him the race.
Murakami’s level of own self knowledge (‘as a child, I could never do anything because my teacher told me to do it, I had to want to do it myself’) is just so refreshing. His intelligence and desire to learn more about himself makes this an easy recommendation for anyone, whether or not they like the sport.
The book is somewhat older now, but it hasn’t dated badly. One does wonder whether ion more recent years, Murakami has had to tone his level of activity down. But we doubt he could have lost his intellectualism. In quintessential Murakami style, What I Talk About When I Talk About Running’s narrator is naive, but curious about whether you would get anything out of this telling; but that wasn’t why the book was written - it was written, because he wanted to write it.
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Sounds like I need to read this☺️