How Haruki Murakami just nailed my feelings towards sports — and some deep stuff about life

Last week my triathlon coach sent me a list with a bunch of inspirational books. I know, it does sound weird. My coach and books are not two things that have ever mingled. Or even been on the same sentence. Ever.

But, can't say his goals weren't noble. To boost our morale and to motivate us toward our race goals. Mine? An upcoming Ironman race this next November. Not my first, mind you.

The list included the basics: Dean Karnazes’ Ultra marathon Man, a famous ultra marathoner’s (oh really?) account of his start on the sport; some Ironman memoirs; the usual Lance Armstrong-related books, you get the picture. The list was not written down, as in the body of an e-mail, but took the format of an attached picture of a stack of books.

What took me aback was the sight of a thin paperback named “What I Talk About When I Talk About Running.” (Found here.) If you don’t know it by its title — and I don’t expect you so — it’s a sort of memoir written by Haruki Murakami, my favourite living novelist, describing a mix of his experiences with marathons, sprinkled with stuff on his writing craft and general life lessons.

What an improbable book to be on that list. I am sure my coach - along with most of the targets of that e-mail - has never heard about Murakami, and what not to say about having read one of his books, like Kafka on The Shore, Norweigan Wood or, most recently, 1Q84 and Colorless Tsukuru Tazaki and His Years of Pilgrimage. (I think his first translation to portuguese was published just a year ago.) Runners and athletes aren’t big on reading, on average.

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My decision to buy the book was obvious: a Murakami book is always a good read, and one that could take me out of a recent literary funk I've been since my last breakup: haven't been able to finish a goddamn book in almost two months. Some athletic inspiration couldn't hurt either. I am on the build-up phase of my Ironman training regimen, feeling constantly heavy legged and spending more time at the gym, (or on my bike, or running in circles at the park,) than everywhere else besides work and sleep.

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**Here are some of the sections I most liked, mined though a highlighting search on my Kindle, and why:**

"Since I wasn't that athletic or coordinated, I wasn't good at the kind of sports where things are decided in a flash. Long-distance running and swimming suit my personality better. I was always kind of aware of this, which might explain why I was able to smoothly incorporate running into my daily life."

"If you'll allow me to take a slight detour from running, I think I can say the same thing about me and studying. From elementary school up to college I was never interested in things I was forced to study. I told myself it was something that had to be done, so I wasn't a total slacker and was able to go on to college, but never once did I find studying exciting… I only enjoyed studying after I got throughout the educational system and became a so-called member of society. If something interested me, and I could study it at my own pace and approach it the way I liked, O was pretty efficient at acquiring knowledge and skills."

I can deeply relate to this. I was a poor student, both in High School and in College, and his description makes total sense to me. I just can't be told what to be interested in.

"The thing is, I am not much for team sports. That's just the way I am. Whenever I play soccer or baseball — actually since becoming an adult this is hardly ever — I never feel comfortable. Maybe it's because I don't have any brothers, but I could never get into the kind of games you play with others. I am also not very good at one-on-one sports like tennis. I enjoy squash, but generally when it comes to a game against someone, the competitive aspect makes me uncomfortable."

I also hate team sports. And one-on-one competitive sports as well. Tennis is THE perfect example. It just feels awful when the playfulness gives way to an opponent that keeps a close eye on score (I prefer not to follow the score,) screams and cheers on every point, etc. So uncomfortable.

"…beating somebody else just doesn't do it for me. I'm much more interested in whether I reach the goals that I set for myself, so in this sense long-distance running is the perfect fit for a mindset like mine."

Agree. Again, I prefer to stick to my own scoring system.

"The same can be said about my profession. In the novelist's profession, as far as I'm concerned, there's no such thing as winning or losing. Maybe numbers of copies sold, awards won and critics's praise serve as outward standards for accomplishment in literature, but none of them really matter. What's crucial is whether your writing attains the standards you've set for yourself. Failure to reach that bar is not something you can easily explain away. When it comes to other people, you can always come up with a reasonable explanation, but you can't fool yourself."

This was just a great tie into his work as a writer. Can't help but understand how he feels.

The interesting thing is that great performance in these sports he describes — team efforts like Basketball or one-on-one competitive sports like Tennis — are highly regarded in American culture as indicatives of professional success. Each and every CV-writing blog post I've always read tells job-seekers to highlight these types of athletic achievement as superior to others, like endurance sports. I once even had an MBA-application coach tell me "anyone can do an Ironman." Go figure.

**Quick appendix: the English translation doesn’t help Murakami. I’ve never had issues with his books in English, but some stuff on this piece of work are just . I don't speak Japanese, so can't really assess if this is Murakami or translation, but given his street cred with me, I'll blame translation. (I can actually feel when translation gears have changed, because the quality abruptly changes). Some pearls:**

“When the body disintegrates, the spirit also (most likely) is gone too.”

"Until the eight mile I'm running up a gradual slope. Hardly a breath of air."

Doesn't make sense.

"By turns the road goes uphill, then down."

I can't picture Murakami writing this. Sorry but I refuse.

"The body is an extremely practical system. You have to let it experience intermittent pain over time, and then the body will get the point. As a result, it will willingly accept (or maybe not) the increased amount of exercise it's made to do. After this, you very gradually increase the upper limit of the amount of exercise you do."

The amount of repetition, and the poor translation work on athletic terms, are just evident here.