When I tell people I run every day, some are quite impressed. “You really must have a strong will,”
they sometimes tell me. Of course, it’s nice to be praised like this. A lot better than being disparaged,
that’s for sure. But I don’t think it’s merely willpower that makes you able to do something. The
world isn’t that simple. To tell the truth, I don’t even think there’s that much correlation between my
running every day and whether or not I have a strong will. I think I’ve been able to run for more than
twenty years for a simple reason: It suits me. Or at least because I don’t find it all that painful. Human
beings naturally continue doing things they like, and they don’t continue what they don’t like.
Admittedly, something close to will does play a small part in that. But no matter how strong a will a
person has, no matter how much he may hate to lose, if it’s an activity he doesn’t really care for, he
won’t keep it up for long. Even if he did, it wouldn’t be good for him.
That’s why I’ve never recommended running to others. I’ve tried my best never to say something
like, Running is great. Everybody should try it. If some people have an interest in long-distance
running, just leave them be, and they’ll start running on their own. If they’re not interested in it, no
amount of persuasion will make any difference. Marathon running is not a sport for everyone, just as
being a novelist isn’t a job for everyone. Nobody ever recommended or even desired that I be a novelist—
in fact, some tried to stop me. I had the idea to be one, and that’s what I did. Likewise, a person doesn’t
become a runner because someone recommends it. People basically become runners because they’re
meant to.
Still, some might read this book and say, “Hey, I’m going to give running a try,” and then discover
they enjoy it. And of course that would be a beautiful thing. As the author of this book I’d be very
pleased if that happened. But people have their own individual likes and dislikes. Some people are
suited more for marathon running, some for golf, others for gambling. Whenever I see students in gym
class all made to run a long distance, I feel sorry for them. Forcing people who have no desire to run,
or who aren’t physically fit enough, is a kind of pointless torture. I always want to advise teachers not to
force all junior and senior high school students to run the same course, but I doubt anybody’s going to
listen to me. That’s what schools are like. The most important thing we ever learn at school is the fact
that the most important things can’t be learned at school.
No matter how much long-distance running might suit me, of course there are days when I feel kind of
lethargic and don’t want to run. Actually, it happens a lot. On days like that, I try to think of all kinds
of plausible excuses to slough it off. Once, I interviewed the Olympic runner Toshihiko Seko, just
after he retired from running and became manager of the S&B company team. I asked him, “Does a
runner at your level ever feel like you’d rather not run today, like you don’t want to run and would
rather just sleep in?” He stared at me and then, in a voice that made it abundantly clear how stupid he
thought the question was, replied, “Of course. All the time!”
Now that I look back on it I can see what a dumb question that was. I guess even back then I knew
how dumb it was, but I suppose I wanted to hear the answer directly from someone of Seko’s caliber. I
wanted to know whether, despite being worlds apart in terms of strength, the amount we can exercise,