110: Murakami's Mind

Last night I started Haruki Murakami's book, What I Talk About When I Talk About Running. It's a memoir by a regular novelist who documents quite plainly what running is like for him, why he does it, and the impact the sport has had on his life.

I've had this book on my infamous pile for 7 months. Jolynn gave it to me as a gift. So thoughtful! (Only, I really hate to run so why would I want to read a book about running? I left it lying... I can be kind of a knob sometimes.) Thankfully, I was drawn to it last night and so began a new literary love affair.

I'm not sure what I want to say to you about this book yet. From the title and cover art, I imagined it would be one part "how to" and another part autobiography. I'd learn a little bit about pacing or something, and get a peek at the life of a strange 60 year old Japanese man. But what I found instead is that this is actually a book about me.

Murakami's prose is so pure, his style so completely devoid of embellishment, that all that's left on every page is the richest essence of human experience. He's at once foreign and of me. I can see myself from the other side of the glass. I don't know if this would be true for you too, but I think so, and I would like to know. I can't wait to discuss this book with other runners, especially ones who write.

Is running also your hour away from people, in silence, thinking of nothing in particular but thinking all the while? In sharing about running do you try so very hard to put it plainly, to document, to be fair in your reports - but then ultimately create a style (or a voice, in my case) that's far more compelling than the content therein? Do you run because you like beer, and eating? Do you love that running has made you live a healthier life, and made you appreciate the morning? Has running forced you to prioritize your life like a grown up might? Even though you were clinging to the idea that you could wiggle about as you pleased and live a fulfilled life doing it your way, totally rejecting discipline?

Have you been shocked to learn that what you thought was selfishness is actually a higher order kind of generosity - that you can give more if you're happy and well? Murakami doesn't say all these things but I know he would, because I do, and I am he. In the strangest way, hearing him is like hearing my own voice singing on a tape recorder and realizing for the first time that I can sing, even as I've been singing all along. I just couldn't hear it. Read Murakami and see yourself, and hear yourself, in the rigid patter of his report. This is a ride into a mind that you don't want to miss.