# What I Talk About When I Talk About Running by Haruki Murakami - Blinkist

What’s in it for me? A writerly reflection on running.

Since the early 1980s, Haruki Murakami has wowed the world with his surreal and dreamlike novels.

His long and prolific writing career has produced literary fiction that appeals both to critics and to popular audiences.

But when he is not at his writing desk, the enigmatic author has another hobby: running marathons.

It may seem strange at first, but the long stretches of time spent huffing and puffing along the road are in fact intimately connected to Murakami’s artistic practice.

So, in 2005, when he began training for the New York City Marathon, he decided to keep a journal of his thoughts and observations.

The result is What I Talk About When I Talk About Running, a memoir that documents his mental life and how it is shaped by physical exercise.

This book-in-blinks delves into how running and writing – two seemingly disparate interests – intersect and inform Murakami’s life and work.

Along the way you’ll discover how running fits into his creative process, glean the details of his training regimes, and hear many observations from his time on the trails.

In these blinks, you’ll learn  how Murakami went from chain-smoker to ultramarathon runner; what writing and running have in common; and what makes ultramarathons spiritual experiences.

For Murakami, running is all about clearing the mind.

August 5, 2005.

It’s a beautiful day on the Hawaiian island of Kauai.

The sun is out, the warm trade winds are blowing, and there is not a single cloud in the sky.

In this gorgeous weather, dozens of joggers are steadily making their way up and down the road to the beach.

Some move fast; some move more slowly.

One of them is the author, Haruki Murakami.

Murakami is out there running nearly every day.

He tries to run an hour a day, six days a week.

That adds up to 156 miles a month.

Sure, it doesn’t approach his personal record.

After all, he’s over 50 now and not nearly as spry as he once was.

However, for Murakami, running has never been about winning races or maintaining a peak physique.

For him, it’s more about the experience.

The key message here is: For Murakami, running is all about clearing the mind.

Murakami didn’t begin running or writing until his thirties.

Before that, he’d owned a jazz bar and had never seriously considered either pastime.

In the fall of 1982, he sold his bar to become a full-time writer; shortly after, he started running seriously.

In the two decades since, he has organized much of his life around the habit of running.

While his dedication has ebbed and flowed, it has never completely abated.

Since first hitting the road, the author has completed 23 marathons – one every year.

Something about the solitary nature of running keeps Murakami coming back to the sport.

He doesn't find motivation from competing against others.

Instead, he measures success based on his own, personal expectations.

Like his approach to writing books, it’s less about impressing an audience and more about satisfying his own desires.

That’s why, even as he ages and slows down, he still enjoys a daily jog.

One of the things Murakami enjoys most about this regular ritual is the calm it brings.

When he is out on the trail, his mind begins to clear.

Yes, he still has the occasional thought, a fleeting memory, or a twinge of emotion – but mostly, he just zones out.

He calls the almost meditative state “the void.

” Every day, Murakami laces up his shoes to run toward this void.

Knowing that the void is just a short jog away is an immense reassurance.

The peace that it brings has helped Murakami smooth over life’s rougher edges.

Even when angry, sad, or distraught about some petty thing, he can simply go running – and soon enough, the outside world will melt away.

Running is an essential cornerstone of Murakami’s literary lifestyle.

Murakami never dreamed of becoming a novelist.

Actually, he was quite happy running a tiny jazz bar in the heart of Tokyo.

But, one day in 1978, something changed.

That day, he was sitting at Jingu Stadium watching the local baseball team play, when the idea popped into his head: “I could write a novel.

” Within months of this epiphany, his first book, Hear the Wind Sing, was published to great acclaim.

Surprised by the warm reception, he kept going.

By 1981, his literary reputation was so solid he could sell his club and live as a full-time writer.

However, this professional pivot came with a cost.

The sedentary work of an author made Murakami gain weight, fast.

To stay physically fit and mentally sharp, he needed to make a change.

The key message here is: Running is an essential cornerstone of Murakami’s literary lifestyle.

Remember, when Murakami began writing he was already in his early thirties.

Moreover, as the owner of a jazz club, he wasn't living the healthiest lifestyle.

He smoked nearly 60 cigarettes a day, and the strain of his late-night schedule often left him physically exhausted.

So, to concentrate on creative pursuits, he decided to leave his unhealthy habits behind.

First, he and his wife left Tokyo for the small city of Narashino, in Chiba Prefecture.

Out in this calm, rural setting, he completely overhauled his daily routine.

Instead of staying up late drinking and smoking, Murakami began sleeping soon after dark and rising each day at dawn.

To complement this new, healthy lifestyle, he added a bit of physical activity – he started running.

At first, Murakami was awful on the track.

Even a short, slow jog of 20 minutes left him gasping for air.

But he kept going.

Something about the sport just suited him.

Like with writing, once he started, he didn’t want to stop.

Over time, he even adapted to the exercise.

Almost automatically, he increased his stamina and improved his form.

His physique changed into a runner’s body.

To many, this drastic transition may seem strange.

However, for Murakami it makes sense.

Sometimes, you just find an activity that fits your life in a way you would never expect.

Murakami just happened to find two: writing and running.

Runners must teach their bodies to obey commands.

It’s a cold, wintry day in 2001.

Murakami, back home in Chiba Prefecture, is midway through his annual marathon.

So far, things are going smoothly.

He’s keeping a good pace, and, while a bit winded, he still feels strong and energetic.

Then, around mile 18, disaster strikes.

His legs cramp up.

His calves twist into tight knots, and his thighs tremble and shake.

The pain is unbearable.

Even after stopping and stretching, he can’t make the stress abate.

Undeterred, he resolves to walk the final few miles.

With each agonizing step he feels a pang of regret and thinks, “I should have trained more.

” The key message here is: Runners must teach their bodies to obey commands.

Murakami’s humbling performance in Chiba was a harsh reminder that running isn’t just a way to stay fit, clear the mind, or find joy.

Running takes both mental determination and physical discipline.

The reason he failed to run the entire race wasn’t a matter of will, but a matter of stamina.

If he wants to be ready for his next marathon, just a few months away, he needs to retool his anatomy to be up for the job.

To prepare, he institutes a tight training regime.

In addition to increasing the quantity of his exercise – that is, his daily mileage – he also begins focusing on the quality of his workouts.

Each time he goes out to run, he pushes the pace a little bit further and works each muscle just a little bit harder.

It’s difficult, but it will pay off in the end.

The experience makes Murakami reflect on his first ever marathon, which incidentally was the route of the world’s first ever marathon – the 26 miles between Athens and the small town of Marathon.

He took on the challenge at the behest of a travel magazine back in July of 1983.

The conceit was that the author would start in Athens and run the entire route, then report on his experience.

This grueling trek through the Greek countryside was going to be tough enough already.

Few people attempt it nowadays due to the unrelenting heat, and Murakami’s race was scheduled in midsummer – a time most Athenians spend indoors to conserve energy.

As he set out from the city, the temperature was already high.

Despite this, he pushed through the heat.

With each passing mile, he grew more and more weary, but also more and more determined to succeed.

Finally, caked in sweat and burnt by the sun, he crossed the finish line.

Even now, with many more marathons under his belt, remembering that feeling of sheer resolve is what gets Murakami through the toughest races.

Writing a novel and running a marathon both take persistence.

September 10.

Murakami returns to Japan for a two-week trip.

It’s a packed schedule.

His latest book has just hit the shelves, and the press wants publicity interviews.

In between, he’s got meetings with editors, designers, and various friends.

On top of this, he needs to hire a new assistant.

And, somehow, through it all, he must find time to run every day.

Otherwise, he won’t be ready for the upcoming New York City Marathon, now just weeks away.

So, as often as he can, he laces up his shoes and hits the trails around Jingu Gaien, the elaborate gardens surrounding Tokyo’s Meiji Shrine.

Fitting a run into the day takes focus, and not giving up halfway through takes endurance.

Luckily, these are exactly the qualities Murakami has spent years building.

The key message here is: Writing a novel and running a marathon both take persistence.

Often in interviews, people ask Murakami what qualities it takes to become a successful novelist.

His initial response is always the obvious: talent.

Quite simply, you can’t be a fiction writer without a certain knack for words, penchant for storytelling, and spark of imagination.

However, even the most talented writers will never reach their potential without two more qualities: focus and endurance.

For Murakami, writing, like running, is a form of manual labor.

An athlete training for a marathon must be so focused on his goal that running for several hours straight is not an issue.

In the same way, a novelist must be laser-focused on telling her story.

She must delight in sitting down to think through the perfect wording for each chapter, paragraph, and sentence – even if it takes all day.

Similarly, runners and writers both need endurance.

Dedicated runners will have the fortitude to maintain a regular workout schedule and the discipline to keep going even as their bodies scream for a break.

Writers, while not enduring such physical feats, must still stick with their project for long periods of time.

Finishing a novel means sitting down to write for hours a day, every day, for months on end.

Luckily for any aspiring author or long-distance runner, both focus and endurance can be built over time.

Unlike talent, which you either have or you don’t, these two qualities are learned through practice.

With daily training of your body and mind, goals that once seemed out of reach can become attainable.

Staying healthy is essential for delving into deeper wells of emotion.

Boston in October.

The air is cool and crisp.

The leaves on the trees begin to turn rich shades of brown and ochre.

Overhead, flocks of Canada geese fly south in anticipation of winter.

Below them, packs of runners jog along the shores of the Charles River.

Moving through this picturesque scene is Murakami, running as always.

As he steadily puts one foot in front of the other, he reflects on his stable, healthy lifestyle.

In Japan, many people are surprised that he keeps such a calm, pleasant routine.

After all, shouldn’t an artist be daring and live an unconventional, dramatic life?

Wouldn’t that provide more inspiration?

Not really.

For Murakami, it’s quite the opposite.

The key message here is: Staying healthy is essential for delving into deeper wells of emotion.

Many people have a funny idea about where art comes from.

They might think that writers tap into their creativity by living degenerate lives filled with struggle and conflict.

They imagine that pushing through such turmoil is how artists achieve a type of pure aesthetic vision.

This may be true of some writers, but largely, it’s a stereotype perpetuated by films and TV.

For Murakami, things work the other way around.

He can’t live a wild and deviant life because the act of writing itself is already so unhealthy.

He believes that the most rich and beautiful artistic ideas are found deep within; however, they are always accompanied by dark and destructive feelings.

So, in order to produce his best work, he must regularly come face-to-face with some very toxic thoughts.

It can be dangerous and exhausting.

To fend off the ill effects of these negative emotions, he maintains a healthy lifestyle.

Habits like daily runs and going to bed early keep him strong enough to continue facing the pain and anguish he encounters during the creative process.

It’s a delicate balance, but without it he would surely be overwhelmed and suffer from literary burnout.

So, while other artists may fill their days with debauchery or chase extreme experiences, Murakami takes a different path.

He occupies his time with nice and wholesome activities.

He watches strangers in the park.

He buys the same, plain shoes over and over.

He listens to his favorite Eric Clapton records.

And, every day, he goes for a run.

Running an ultramarathon is a surreal and life-changing experience.

Early morning.

You set off at a brink pace from Yuubetsu, a small town on the western edge of Lake Saroma in Hokkaido, Japan.

It’s early summer but, being so far north, the air is still crisp and cold.

As the sun slowly rises in the sky, you run, run, and run some more.

Eventually, you hit mile-marker 26, but you keep going.

Hours go by.

With each step your muscles groan and ache.

Time starts to lose meaning, and the world is reduced to the act of running.

Finally, after twelve hours, you make it to the Wakka Natural Flower Garden on the eastern edge of the lake and cross the finish line.

Congratulations, you’ve just run an ultramarathon!

You’ll never be the same.

The key message here is: Running an ultramarathon is a surreal and life-changing experience.

Completing an ultramarathon is a daunting task, even for the most seasoned long-distance runner.

Any race longer than 26 miles is considered an ultramarathon.

Murakami ran one that was more than double the traditional marathon, clocking in 62 miles.

Murakami has attempted this challenge only once.

While he managed to finish the entire ordeal without walking, the event left him drained for months afterward.

The race itself was an unreal experience.

While the first half went surprisingly smoothly, the last two dozen miles were a true test of determination.

Murakami’s entire body seemed to transform from the immense exertion.

Along the way, his feet swelled so much that he had to change into bigger shoes.

The only way he was able to continue through the pain was to disassociate.

Toward the end of the race, he pushed through an invisible barrier and left his conscious mind behind.

He no longer felt human.

Instead, he was a machine with one goal: keep running.

The feeling of complete emptiness was almost a religious epiphany, and it pushed him through to the finish line.

However, after the ultramarathon, the strange sense of disconnectedness remained.

In the months following the race, Murakami continued running, but it no longer felt as meaningful.

The joy and satisfaction he’d once gotten from exercise seemed to lose its shine.

He called this lingering feeling of ennui “runner’s blues.

” Luckily, as the years have passed, the blues have slowly receded.

Now, Murakami is once again looking forward to running.

While he may never run another 62-mile slog, he is focused on the next big event, the New York City Marathon.

Murakami will keep running as long as he feels like running.

It’s finally race day.

All those many months Murakami spent training have led up to this moment.

All those early mornings on the trails, all that intricate planning, all that anguish and anticipation – it’s all been building up to this, the New York City Marathon.

Now it’s his chance to give everything he has.

So, how does it go?

Basically fine.

Not bad, but not great either.

Sometimes, life is just like that.

There’s not some big climax or massive narrative payoff.

You simply do what you’re able to do and continue onward as always.

The key message here is: Murakami will keep running as long as he feels like running.

Murakami had really been looking forward to the New York City Marathon.

In the weeks leading up to the race, he spent a lot of time visualizing the event.

He imagined the rush of setting off with thousands of fellow runners, the burning in his legs as he climbed over each bridge, and the surge of adrenaline he’d get approaching the finish line.

However, the race didn’t go as planned.

While he felt great at the onset, he had trouble keeping the pace he wanted.

By the time he hit the long, rolling slope of Central Park, his legs were feeling cramped and wobbly.

In the end, he finished with a time of just over four hours.

It was a disappointment – but a mild one.

These things happen.

Maybe he trained too hard.

Or, maybe he’s just getting old.

Six months later, he ran the Boston Marathon, one of his favorite courses in the world.

This time, he took a different approach.

He didn’t train nearly as hard and started the race at a slower speed to conserve energy for later.

The results were more or less the same.

He finished the race but with a mediocre time.

Again, he accepted this reality with mild disappointment and moved on.

For Murakami, this is just how things go.

Even though his performance will slowly decline, there’s no reason to stop.

After all, he enjoys running.

It feels like part of his personality and is a practice he’ll always carry with him, like a dusty old suitcase.

It’s a bit like how salmon instinctively swim upstream or a wild ducks mate for life.

Some things you just do.

Life is a long process of discovering your potential.

It’s sometime in the late 1960s.

A teenage Murakami stands naked in his bedroom, staring into the mirror.

He looks at his reflection and carefully notes every imperfection.

His eyebrows are too thick.

His fingernails are oddly shaped.

The list goes on and on.

Four decades later, the writer stands on the shores of Niigata, about to start a grueling triathlon.

He still relates to his vulnerable teen self; in many ways, he’s still full of defects and shortcomings.

But, right now, he has to swim for 1 mile, bike for 25, then run for more than 6.

There’s no time to focus on his faults.

If he’s going to finish the task in front of him, he’d better adjust his thinking toward a more positive mindset.

The key message here is: Life is a long process of discovering your potential.

Murakami has a fraught history with triathlons.

While running comes naturally to him, the other two events – biking and swimming – feel a little more difficult.

Swimming, especially, is a source of trouble as he never learned proper form.

In fact, at a race a few years earlier he panicked while out in the open ocean.

He lost touch with his body and had to quit the race.

The trauma from this mishap kept him away from triathlons for several seasons.

In the meantime, he sought out a swimming instructor to help him master the necessary strokes.

After going through many coaches, he found one with an ideal approach.

She slowly worked with him, tweaking his form bit by bit until he became comfortable and confident with each movement.

In 2006, Murakami returned to the beach for another try.

This time he was ready.

With a splash, he set off into the water, moving with speed and fluidity.

About halfway through, his goggles fogged up and he began to panic.

However, he was able to take a few deep breaths, remember his training, and regain his composure.

Soon enough, he was out of the water and zipping along on a bike.

Murakami finished the race and was overcome with waves of satisfaction.

Sure, he didn’t win – not even close.

But, he managed to do something he had originally felt was impossible.

Clearly, he had strengths and abilities hidden deep within himself.

Yes, he could look in the mirror and see all his faults, but with a little effort, he could find his positive qualities and untapped potential, too.

Final summary

The key message in these blinks: Haruki Murakami never anticipated he’d be a famous novelist or an accomplished marathon runner – but by following his instincts, he ended up becoming both.

He’s learned from experience that these two solitary pursuits have a lot in common.

Both require discipline, endurance, and a certain determination to meet your own expectations regardless of outside forces.

Running has been so crucial to his lifestyle that without it, he could never have had his literary career.

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What to read next: Jog On, by Bella Mackie You just learned how writer Haruki Murakami uses long-distance running to keep his literary career afloat.

Next, learn how another author found power in exercise with Jog On.

This book-in-blinks details how the simple act of getting out on the trails helped author Bella Mackie manage her depression and anxiety.