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pecuminjsh 's review for:
What I Talk About When I Talk About Running
by Haruki Murakami
reflective
fast-paced
I picked up What I Talk About When I Talk About Running again, years after my first read, and this time, it hit differently. Back in 2019, I was hoping Murakami would inspire me to run. This time, I’m already running, not necessarily well, not particularly fast, and with no guarantee, I’ll keep at it, but running nonetheless. And somehow, that makes all the difference.
Murakami says he runs to acquire void, and I felt that. Like anything that takes you into a flow state, running doesn’t fill your mind - it empties it. Thoughts tumble in and out, loosely connected, if at all. That’s also exactly how this book reads: wandering reflections tied together by a thin thread of movement, whether forward on the road or forward in time. It’s less about running and more about persistence, ageing, and doing things that make sense to you, even if they don’t to anyone else.
I relate to his take on endurance: I work hard and can take a lot, and that has always been my strength. Something is reassuring about seeing that trait reflected in someone else. It’s not about talent or innate ability - just sheer stubbornness to keep going.
Murakami believes that people become runners because they’re meant to be. This feels… true. I’ve never been one, never wanted to be one, never stuck with it. And yet, here I am, running. Maybe it’s a gateway to something else. Perhaps it is the thing. Either way, it feels like some kind of self-fulfilling prophecy where if it is meant to stick, it will, and one day, I’ll call myself a runner. But maybe I will never.
Then there’s the part about running slower with age, about noticing the next generation outrun you and realising time is winning, whether you like it or not. It made me wonder if running is just a metaphor for gracefully accepting change, adapting, and slowing down but still moving with purpose.
The title of this book is perfect. It’s not about running, not really. It’s about what your mind does when it’s in motion. It’s about the thoughts that come and go, the ones that settle and dissolve. The way they loop back out of nowhere and form something new. The book felt like a run.
In 2019, I wrote that I liked the book because I was about to visit Japan and recognised some of the places Murakami mentioned. That was the hook, then. I’ve been to those places, and I like them better because I recognise something else - my mind is moving, and just as unsure about running as I am.
Maybe that’s enough to keep going. Maybe not. But for now, I run.
Murakami says he runs to acquire void, and I felt that. Like anything that takes you into a flow state, running doesn’t fill your mind - it empties it. Thoughts tumble in and out, loosely connected, if at all. That’s also exactly how this book reads: wandering reflections tied together by a thin thread of movement, whether forward on the road or forward in time. It’s less about running and more about persistence, ageing, and doing things that make sense to you, even if they don’t to anyone else.
I relate to his take on endurance: I work hard and can take a lot, and that has always been my strength. Something is reassuring about seeing that trait reflected in someone else. It’s not about talent or innate ability - just sheer stubbornness to keep going.
Murakami believes that people become runners because they’re meant to be. This feels… true. I’ve never been one, never wanted to be one, never stuck with it. And yet, here I am, running. Maybe it’s a gateway to something else. Perhaps it is the thing. Either way, it feels like some kind of self-fulfilling prophecy where if it is meant to stick, it will, and one day, I’ll call myself a runner. But maybe I will never.
Then there’s the part about running slower with age, about noticing the next generation outrun you and realising time is winning, whether you like it or not. It made me wonder if running is just a metaphor for gracefully accepting change, adapting, and slowing down but still moving with purpose.
The title of this book is perfect. It’s not about running, not really. It’s about what your mind does when it’s in motion. It’s about the thoughts that come and go, the ones that settle and dissolve. The way they loop back out of nowhere and form something new. The book felt like a run.
In 2019, I wrote that I liked the book because I was about to visit Japan and recognised some of the places Murakami mentioned. That was the hook, then. I’ve been to those places, and I like them better because I recognise something else - my mind is moving, and just as unsure about running as I am.
Maybe that’s enough to keep going. Maybe not. But for now, I run.