When I first started dating my wife, my future father-in-law heard I was a runner and a reader and gave me a copy of Alan Sillitoe’s “Loneliness of the Long Distance Runner.” He loved the book (short story, in this case) and especially the film version. I thanked him, but since I seem to collect books it laid dormant on my shelf for years.
First reactions
When I started adding more mileage and revisiting my identity as a runner this past year, I pulled Sillitoe’s work off the shelf and sat down for what I expected to be a deep, personal reading experience. I run long distances, usually alone; this had to be something deep and meditative that I could relate to in an almost mystical way. The fact that Competitor magazine had named this the #13 greatest running book of all-time seemed to validate my preconceptions.
Imagine my surprise when I started reading the story and found not a running monk but a defiant juvenile delinquent known only as “Smith”, a young man convicted of a petty (and slightly comical) theft and sent to a borstal, or juvenile detention center, in a remote corner of England. There he begins cross country running and discovers an aptitude for the sport. Through racing he finds a sense of freedom, but as the administration of the facility recognizes his talents he is pushed to compete in a cross-country race against a local school and in an act of defiance stops short of the finish. He would rather lose than allow those in charge to be able to feel satisfaction at his efforts.
Freedom vs. Rage
When I finished the story, I didn’t know what to think. I didn’t connect with the main character and though I recognized this was a good story and a critique of the economic structure of 1960’s England I had hoped for something that made me want to throw the book down and head out the door for a run. After surfing the web for a bit, I found a few interesting perspectives.
In a 2008 interview in Spiegel, Haruki Murakami was asked about the story and offered a few thoughts:
I wasn’t impressed by the book. Its boring. You can tell that Sillitoe wasn’t a runner himself. But I find the idea itself fitting: running allows the hero to access his own identity. In running he discovers the only state in which he feels free. I can identify with that.
Okay. This made some sense. I agreed the story dragged at times. I couldn’t find anything to indicate if Sillitoe was a runner, but: a) there were enough first person accounts of running out there to give Sillitoe fodder for his work (e.g., Roger Bannister’s memoir of breaking the four minute mile), and b) I’m not sure it matters. Aside from that, I could relate to the idea that running gave Smith an identity and sense of freedom. One of the things I love about running is the freedom I feel on the roads or trails. I am beholden to no one and have control of my pace, my route, and most other things besides the weather.
I wasn’t sure that this story was all about freedom, though; the theme fits the first third of the story, but doesn’t fit in the climatic race at the end when Smith decides to stop rather than cross the finish line in first. There is something other than freedom motivating him at that point.
In a recent Paris Review post, James McWilliams focused more on the fact that Smith “starts running to release an inner hydrant of anger” and believes this anger is something all runners can relate to:
But on some level, no matter how establishmentarian in demeanor off the course, he’s delivering a very pointed f*** off to something or someone. Take the most placid and seemingly well-adjusted marathoner and push her on this point and you’ll eventually find some nugget of rage… It’s this quality, more than any other, that keeps runners loyal to their cult.
I agree that anger is a part of why Smith runs, but I have a hard time relating to this view. I run to push myself and to escape, and one of the things I love about running is that it can be a supportive and nurturing environment. I like congratulating others at the finish of a race or hearing the stories of other runners.
The Loneliness of Boris Berian?
Even though I couldn’t relate to the anger McWilliams described, I can see parallels to professional runners, or runners who have to run for reasons other than the joy of it. Smith ran for himself because he loved it, but he raced because the borstal administration wanted him to. College athletes may need to run long practices, relays as opposed to individual races, or run through a longer than needed season that builds the reputation of the team and coach but may limit their development.
For professional athletes, sponsorships can pose dilemmas. This year Boris Berian, a US 800m runner, wanted to move to New Balance at the end of his contract with Nike. After disputes abut right of first refusal to match contracts, Nike took him to court to keep him in their stable of athletes. The situation became tense enough that Berian’s coach said Boris would retire rather than have to run in Nike apparel at the US Olympic Trials. In a similar move in 2015, USATF left Nick Symonds off of the 800m team for the 2015 World Championships because he refused to sign an agreement requiring him wear Nike apparel outside of competition.
I can’t relate to these situations but I understand them. I run for fun, but for others it is a job or avenue to something greater. This is part of what makes the story a good one. Smith wasn’t an average runner; he was an exceptional one. The reader doesn’t know how exceptional, but without acceptance of this fact Smith’s decision to stop and lose the pivotal race at the end is not as powerful. Sillitoe knew this and used it as a metaphor for class struggles that still resonate today.
I can’t say this was my favorite running story, but I can see why it strikes a chord with runners and has such staying power. It illuminates the conflicts some of our greatest runners experience, and by walking the margin between freedom and rage allows runners to find some connection to their motivation for hitting the pavement. It took me a couple of years to get there, but I am glad my father in law exposed me to it all those years ago.