Book rambling, pt.2: on running rambles

Now to the Murakami:

Perhaps the biggest difference between the two books is that Emily of Deep Valley made me want to do something for others, while What I Talk About When I Talk About Running made me want to do something for myself.

I’m not sure Murakami’s book would hold much interest for a non-runner, unless it is someone who is a big fan of his writing. It is a memoir of sorts about his training for long distance races like the New York marathon and triathlons.  He writes in a sort of plodding voice that rolls on and on, short sentence after short sentence, in a way that resembles the pace of a long distance runner – but rather than bore, it has a rhythm that is easy to consume. It seems Asian to me in its simplicity, but maybe that’s his writing style, not his ethnicity, coming through.

He does connect his running to his writing – more than once he says he couldn’t write if he didn’t run, both from a physical and mental health perspective.  Running makes him respect his physical self, as well as other runners. Running increases his focus and his endurance, qualities needed by novelists. It helps him concentrate and find clarity and strengthen his will power. But he doesn’t plan books while he’s running.  He doesn't think about writing while running, or much of anything at all, except running.

As a runner, I am not surprised to read that he doesn’t think about much when he runs.  Nonetheless, it’s still true to say running does help you think even if you don’t think while you run about anything except running.  Maybe it’s the oxygen to the brain.  Maybe it’s the focused emptiness of the brain while running that makes room for later thoughts.

I always imagine I will think about this or that problem while I’m running, but after awhile auto-pilot takes over. Primarily, I, too, think about running when I’m running. I think about how I feel. I think about my time, whether I’m running faster or slower. I think about trying to run faster. Lately, I’ve been recovering from a hip injury and have just started running again after taking about a month off, so I think about whether my hip hurts or not. I am totally in the moment, as they say, when running: not planning, not worrying, not thinking about anything but this run right now.

In a way, time flattens into itself when running.  Even though I'm counting seconds and minutes, they go by faster than they should. On the occasion when I do go on long runs, an hour is both too brief and too long.  And as I run, other runs come back  unbidden. I like to run the same routes, so I don't have to think about where I'm going, but perhaps that is what makes other runs present. Maybe it's another type of muscle memory.

I am not really a long distance runner.  I was a middle distance runner in college, and although I ran a marathon after I graduated, I shortly thereafter got married and started having babies. Since then, until moving here, I was on maintenance mode.  I ran two babyjoggers into the ground by running around neighborhoods for 2-4 miles, nearly every day with two and sometimes three kids and a worn-out bicycle on board.  I don't think I run as religiously as Murakami, but rare is the day that I don't run at least a little, except the one day every week or two that I do some other form of exercise to cross-train. Running was a survival technique and a way to eat chocolate without concern. I have to run, but I don’t want to put more than 20-30 minutes a day into it, because it is just one of many things I want to do each day.

So I was surprised a little that I remained in good enough shape over the years without serious training to do well in races here. Of course, it is Guam.  The competition is not too fierce. If without extra effort, I am able to win my age group and be in the top ten of most of the competitions I’ve entered, I wonder what I could achieve if I put some serious effort into training.

What I achieved is a hurt hip, this time around. I think this injury was brought on by running a race on hills after a 24 hour flight. I self-diagnosed as bursitis or ilio-tibial band tendinitis, both injuries related to stress.

On the other hand, I’ve been able to put more time into swimming and biking, which I've been wanting to do anyway, ever since I've been trying triathlons. Triathlons are painful. I don’t like the beginning of the swim – Murakami captures perfectly the discomfort of being kicked in the face or clawed at in the feet.  In one triathlon, he got choked up and couldn't complete the swim and so was DQ'd from the race.  The last tri I did, I started way to the side to avoid being clabbered. I may have added more distance to my swim, but since I wasn’t swallowing water and starting to panic from being touched, I think my time was faster.

And the transition from biking to running is surprisingly painful. I thought the runs would be the easiest part for me, but trying to use your legs to run after biking vigorously is a lot harder than you think. It's like your muscles go into rebellion.

Once my hip is 100%, I want to start training seriously. There's an Olympic distance triathlon next month, but I don't think I'll be ready for it. Is it an addiction to endorphins that makes me want to do this?  Why, when these races are so painful, do I want to put effort into them?

I can't explain this desire. All I know is that tonight I did a track workout, and I was thrilled to be back on that rubberized surface.  Even though I knew I shouldn't push myself too much too soon, I had a little rush of adrenalin that took over in the first couple 800 repeats.  I could feel myself smiling, even though I really didn't feel very fast. It just felt good to be trying to run fast.

Murakami's book won't win any converts to running either.  If you're not already a runner, you'll probably find it boring. But if you are a runner, it makes you want to put on your training shoes and go run for a couple hours.  

Having a job will curtail that a bit, so my consolation prize if not offered the teaching position is knowing I can reward myself with extra exercise. More swimming, more biking, more running. Not pedicures, hair treatments, shopping, etc. I usually feel too guilty about being selfish with my time to put in more than 30 mins or so of exercise, but I want to take a whole hour or two for training and see what happens. The adrenalin rush is addictive. Even just thinking about racing better gets the endorphins going as I sit here...

Here is an interview with Murakami at Runner's World that reveals more.