My Three Favorite Running Books

It's not easy to find good running books that aren't memoirs that tell the same basic story: "I had a major life event or 'come-to-Jesus' moment. So I started running. It was really hard. But SO REWARDING." As a relatively new runner (one marathon under my belt, one scheduled for October), I love running books that break out of this mold; books that make me really want to lace 'em up and go chase the sun. Here are my three favorites:

3. What I Talk about When I Talk about Running, by Haruki Murakami — This was one of the first running books I read (I read it last March), and I when I finished it I went out the next morning and bombed out 13 miles — a distance I'd never even approached before. It was that inspiring! Murakami gives us tons of fascinating insight about the mindset of a runner, and how closely it parallels that of a writer — most notably, discipline. Murakami chronicles his training for the NYC Marathon and an ultramarathon that nearly killed him. During this 50-mile race, he describes passing through a "physical door," after which he didn't feel his body (or the pain) anymore, and that's how he was able to finish. (He quotes a somewhat cheesy but inspirational phrase among distance runners, "Pain is inevitable; suffering is optional.") Fascinating stuff. It's a short read — less than 200 pages — but really packs a punch for the inspiration!

2. The Long Run, by Catriona Menzies-Pike — I loved this book that's part memoir of Australian writer Menzies-Pike's life as a late-blooming runner, and part history of running generally, but specifically women's running. Menzies-Pike lost both her parents in a plane crash when she was 20, spent 10 years sort of drifting and drinking, but then discovered running at age 30. She wasn't someone who immediately loved it, or who saw running as a way to give her life structure, or anything like most running memoirs proclaim. Instead, she signed up for a popular race in Sydney because it was just something to do. Eventually, she grew to love running and before she knew it (though after a few fits and starts) she was running marathons.

This book (it just came out in May of this year; it's one of my favorites of the year!) landed for me because like Menzies-Pike, I didn't have a "life-long love affair with running," or any of the other cliches you often see in running memoirs. I started running the day after my 39th birthday to get in shape and lose some weight. I had no idea I'd be running marathons either, and actually enjoying it!

The book's also fascinating learning about the early pioneers of women's running — Kathrine Switzer, Bobbi Gibb, and more — and all they had to endure just to be runners. As well, Menzies-Pike gives her memoir a decidedly feminist bent, explaining the parts of being a woman runner even today that are, at best, annoying at worst, outright harassment. She even spends a chapter looking for runners in literature, which is fascinating — especially as she notes the dearth of women runners.

I don't think I was exactly the intended reader for this book, but I loved it nonetheless. Whether you're a Boston Qualifier or a Sunday fun-runner, this book has something for you. I learned as much as I was inspired to keep running from this one.

1. Born to Run, by Christopher McDougall —Here's the one running book most every runner (and lots of non-runners) have read. I am ashamed to admit I finally just read it last week — it's one of those books I'd always meant to read, but always put off for some reason. Glad I finally did!

McDougall chronicles his journey into the barren mountains and canyons in Mexico searching for a hidden tribe of super runners called the Tarahumara Indians. He eventually finds them with the help of a mysterious gringo who goes by the moniker El Caballo Blanco who has sort of joined up with their tribe — he's a quirky, fascinating dude, to say the least.

McDougall tells us about the history of ultrarunning, delving into the Leadville Trail 100 — an almost mythologically difficult 100-mile race that takes place every year in the Rocky Mountains. This race was many Americans' first introduction to the Tarahumara, who competed and won the race for two years in the early 1990s.

McDougall takes us on a few tangents — during one of which he famously rails against the running shoe industry, citing studies that supposedly prove that running shoes neither help prevent injuries nor make runners faster than running barefoot. Sure. He also spends several dozen pages on a theory of evolution. Did humans actually evolve to be distance runners (literally born to run), and therefore, be to be able run prey to death? Both of these digressions are interesting, but I'm not sure how much stock I put in either one.

The book concludes with an absolutely pulse-pounding story of the first race pitting American champion ultramarathoners (Scott Jurek, Jenn Shelton, etc) against the Tarahumara in a race in the 100-degree heat and rocky canyons of the Tarahumara's home. It's an incredible event — and one McDougall even took part himself, pushing himself to his absolute limit.

I loved this book, even with a few hesitations. McDougall has a tendency to sort of gloss over how difficult ultramarathoning really is and, also, out of necessity, needs to invent a few details here and there for the story's sake. But on the whole, if you're going to read one running book, this is the one I'd recommend.