Lessons from Murakami Beyond the Track
I’ve enjoyed countless Murakami novels. There’s something about them that gets under your skin. Maybe it’s the way he makes the most mundane details—coffee, cats, jazz—feel like tiny pieces of a grand puzzle. Or maybe it’s the way his books are equal parts dream and reality, making you feel unsettled but comforted.
When I picked up What I Talk About When I Talk About Running, I wasn’t sure what to expect. I’d read his novels, of course, but this wasn’t fiction. This was personal—a memoir about running, writing, and the overlap between the two. What I didn’t anticipate was how deeply relatable and unexpectedly personal it would feel.
Murakami doesn’t write about running to boast about marathon times or fitness goals. For him, running is a metaphor for life—its discipline, its solitude, and its pain. And as someone who’s never trained for a marathon and don’t plan to anytime soon, I still found myself nodding along to his reflections.
Pain is Inevitable, But Suffering is Optional
This line from the book is one of those truths that feels simple until you really think about it. Murakami uses it to describe running long distances, but it applies to just about everything in life.
We all face pain—whether it’s physical, emotional, or situational. Pain is non-negotiable. But suffering? Suffering is the narrative we attach to the pain. It’s the stories we tell ourselves: This is too hard. I can’t do this. I’m not enough.
Murakami’s philosophy is to acknowledge the pain without letting it consume you. You keep going, one step at a time, until the finish line is behind you. It’s a mindset that’s as useful for enduring a marathon as it is for surviving a tough week at work, a rocky relationship, or just the daily grind of existence.
The Beauty of Discipline
One of the most striking things about the book is Murakami’s reverence for discipline. He writes about running every day, even when he doesn’t feel like it, because it’s not about motivation—it’s about commitment.
As a writer, he draws a parallel to his craft. Writing, like running, requires showing up even when the inspiration isn’t there. It’s about putting in the work, day after day, until the words or the miles add up.
It made me reflect on the areas of my own life where I could use a little more discipline. How many times have I waited for the “right moment” to start something, only to let the opportunity pass? Murakami reminds us that the magic happens in the mundane, in the quiet moments of effort that no one else sees.
Running as a Metaphor for Solitude
Murakami’s love of running is deeply tied to his love of solitude. He writes about the peace of being alone with his thoughts, the way running clears his mind and makes space for ideas.
In a world that constantly demands connection, it’s refreshing to hear someone celebrate solitude—not as loneliness, but as a necessary space for self-reflection and growth.
Why This Book Stays With You
What I Talk About When I Talk About Running isn’t just a book about running—it’s a book about life, about perseverance, about learning to live with yourself. It’s about finding meaning in the everyday, whether that’s in the rhythm of your feet hitting the pavement or the sound of fingers on a keyboard.
Murakami doesn’t claim to have all the answers, and that’s part of the beauty. He’s just out there, running his race, sharing what he’s learned along the way.
Which brings me to the ultimate takeaway of the memoir: Life isn’t about winning or losing. It’s about showing up, putting one foot in front of the other, and finding joy—even when things are hard. Especially when it’s hard.
If you’re looking for a little inspiration to keep going, I recommend reading this book. Whether you’re a runner or not, Murakami’s words might just remind you that life isn’t a race and showing up is more important.
