What I Talk About When I Talk About Running - What does the run mean for me

  Once in the subway car I have noticed that the guy in front of me read this book with an interesting for me title "What I Talk About When I Talk About Running". A few days later I already was reading it. As Haruki Murakami is one of my favourite authors (I have devoured every book he has written), it was a very welcome gift. Given that I am in the middle of several other books at the moment, I haven't read it yet, but I am very much looking forward to it. I had no idea that he was a runner until this book came out - yet another reason for liking him! I enjoyed it. Not earth shattering, nor really deep and meaningful, but a nice runners thread, like a conversation on a long run - sort of running snacks for the brain.
  "What I Talk About When I Talk About Running" is full of clear, straightforward sentences that describe Murakami's life as a runner and explore how running shaped his character and his fiction. It is an open, welcoming book, deeper than it first seems and devoid of the playful trickery that streaks through many of his novels and stories. I particularly liked hearing about how he balanced such an introspective career (writing) with the physical pursuit of running and the discipline of each. It was nice to read a book about another runner's relationship with running- how they came to it, why they enjoy it, what they think about while running. I found it very comforting, like a hot chocolate in winter.
  And noticed with interest that his thoughts are mine also. Of course, not in all senses. But our main ideas coincide. Murakami said in interview: "I know how fiction matters to me, because if I want to express myself, I have to make up a story. Some people call it imagination. To me, it's not imagination. It's just a way of watching. Sometimes it's not easy. You have to dream intentionally. Most people dream a dream when they are asleep. But to be a writer, you have to dream while you are awake, intentionally. So I get up early in the morning, 4 o'clock, and I sit at my desk and what I do is just dream. After three or four hours, that's enough. In the afternoon, I run. The next day, the dream will continue. You cannot do that while you are asleep. When the dream stops, it stops forever. You cannot continue to dream that same dream. But if you are a writer, you can do that. That is a great thing, to keep on dreaming while you are awake."
  "For me, running is both exercise and a metaphor," Murakami writes. "Running day after day, piling up the races, bit by bit I raise the bar, and by clearing each level I elevate myself."
  Murakami certainly right that essence of racing and essence of writing are similar in a great deal. Writing is the same marathon, run on a long distance. And it is just necessary to start this process (to find boldness, overcome laziness et cetera) to dissolve then in it, let its devour you completely and to feel here a feeling similar to happiness.
  Murakami owned a jazz club in Tokyo until he decided to become a writer and a runner. He got the expected benefits (lost weight, quit smoking) from taking up the sport and found an activity that challenged and stimulated him. He doesn't proselytize for running and doesn't overstate its effects on himself, beyond this: "Most of what I know about writing I've learned through running every day. These are practical, physical lessons. How much can I push myself? How much rest is appropriate -- and how much is too much? How far can I take something and still keep it decent and consistent? ... I know that if I hadn't become a long-distance runner when I became a novelist, my work would have been vastly different. How different? Hard to say. But something would have definitely been different."