By this point in What I Talk About When I Talk About Running, Haruki Murakami has established that running is more than just a hobby or a way to stay fit—it is a philosophy, a metaphor for life, and an integral part of his identity as a writer. In this section, he explores how running influences his creativity, how movement and thought are deeply connected, and how maintaining a consistent discipline—whether in running or writing—allows him to thrive both physically and mentally.
Having endured the grueling challenge of an ultra-marathon and faced the stark reality of aging, Murakami begins to reflect more deeply on the meaning of running itself. Is it just about staying fit? Is it about setting goals and achieving them? Or is there something more profound at play?
For Murakami, running is a way of engaging with the world. It provides structure, clarity, and an opportunity for self-exploration. It is a practice of endurance not only in the body but also in the mind.
Murakami has often been asked about the relationship between running and writing. To him, the connection is clear: both require discipline, both are solitary pursuits, and both involve an ongoing struggle against self-doubt.
“Most of what I know about writing, I’ve learned through running every day.”
Writing a novel is not about sudden bursts of inspiration; it is about the slow, steady accumulation of effort. One paragraph at a time, one page at a time, until a full story emerges. This is exactly how running works: one step at a time, one mile at a time, until the finish line is reached.
He compares the process of long-distance running to writing a novel:
“You can have talent, but if you don’t have discipline, it won’t take you very far.”
Murakami understands that his greatest strength is not his natural ability but his persistence. He is not the fastest runner or the most gifted writer, but he has continued to do both, day after day, for decades. That, in the end, is what has brought him success.
Murakami strongly believes that physical movement enhances creativity. Some of his best ideas for novels come to him while running. He does not actively think about stories while on the road, but something about the rhythm of running allows thoughts to surface naturally.
“When I’m running, I don’t have to think about anything. But that is precisely why my mind works so well.”
He describes the experience of running as entering a mental void. He does not force ideas or actively work on problems while running—rather, ideas seem to appear on their own. This state of effortless thought is similar to what many artists, writers, and musicians experience in moments of deep focus or “flow.”
“The thoughts that occur to me while running are like clouds in the sky. They come and go, while the sky remains unchanged.”
This is an important realization for Murakami. Writing is an intensely intellectual activity, requiring deep focus, structure, and logic. Running, by contrast, allows the mind to wander freely. It provides a balance, a counterweight to the mental strain of writing.
For this reason, running is not just a physical necessity for him—it is a creative tool, a way to clear his mind so that when he returns to his desk, he can write with renewed energy.
By now, Murakami has also come to terms with the effects of aging. He acknowledges that he will never again run as fast as he did in his youth. His marathon times have slowed, his recovery takes longer, and he feels fatigue more acutely than before.
“At a certain point in life, speed is no longer the goal. What matters is consistency.”
Rather than resisting this reality, he chooses to accept it. Instead of trying to match his younger self’s achievements, he now focuses on enjoying the process. He understands that continuing to run, even at a slower pace, is still a victory.
This is a lesson that extends beyond running. It applies to life itself.
“Aging is something we all must face, but how we face it is up to us.”
His perspective shifts from achieving results to embracing the journey. Running is no longer about setting personal records—it is about continuing to move, continuing to challenge himself, and finding joy in the motion itself.
Murakami emphasizes the importance of having a goal, whether in running, writing, or life. Goals provide motivation, structure, and a sense of purpose.
“Without a goal, I will not run. Without a goal, I will not write.”
But he also warns against chasing goals that are too extreme. After completing his ultra-marathon, he realized that pushing his body beyond its limits left him exhausted and burned out. He learned that moderation is key. A goal should be challenging but not destructive.
He now focuses on sustainable goals—ones that push him but do not break him.
“I will never be as fast as I was. But I can still run. And that is enough.”
On writing and running:
“Writing a novel is like running a marathon: it takes endurance, patience, and a lot of solitude.”
On creativity:
“The best ideas come when you are not looking for them.”
On aging:
“Time is ruthless, but we don’t have to be.”
On setting goals:
“Without a goal, the road has no meaning. Even if the goal is simply to keep moving.”
On endurance:
“You don’t have to go fast. You just have to keep going.”
Murakami’s reflections in this section shift from endurance to acceptance. He no longer focuses on breaking records or proving his abilities—he is now more interested in sustaining his passion, preserving his health, and continuing to move forward, one step at a time.