Running and Reading: Are They Cut From The Same Cloth?

Let’s start this off by making something clear. I (mostly) hate running and I (always) love reading.

On the surface, this should be enough to answer the above question. After all, as far as activities go, they’re pretty much polar opposites. When I read, I put on my comfiest and roomiest clothes, shroud myself in a fluffy blanket, whack the heating up on full blast, and tuck myself into the corner of the sofa with a cup of coffee. But when I run, my workout clothes are made from the tightest lycra known to man, there are no blankets to be seen, it’s punishingly cold outside and I’m not allowed to drink anything until I get home because carrying a bottle whilst you run is the most annoying thing ever. See? No comparisons to be drawn here.

And yet.

And yet, whilst I was forcing my way through the final stretch of my lunchtime 5K earlier in the week, I couldn’t help but weigh the two up. This probably came from the fact that I was desperately wishing I’d chosen to stay at home and dive into my current read rather than pushing myself out into the cold and forcing my body to imitate an elephant ploughing through neck-deep treacle. Either way, I was longing for the alternative universe where I hadn’t gone on a run, when the thought struck me that, actually, maybe the two weren’t so different at all.

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Endorphins, endorphins, endorphins

If you google ‘why is exercise good for me?’, somewhere near the top of the list you’re going to find mention of the mythic endorphin rush. And it is true — running does give you a feel-good buzz.

In fact, it’s remarkably similar to the feeling I get when I finish a book or find a particularly delicious twist in a novel. It’s a big reason for my compulsive reading habit. It’s also why runners (myself included) will harp on about how awful running is, yet get up and lace on their trainers in all kinds of weather, often at the crack of dawn.

Okay, so I might have to work a bit harder to get myself out of bed and into the freezing cold rather than onto the sofa with my latest read, but the fact is, I do it. I make time for both things because both give me an addictive buzz that’s hard to resist.

Healthy body, healthy brain

Whilst we’re on the topic of how great that endorphin rush feels, I should probably mention the health benefits of both reading and running.

At the risk of stating the obvious, running is good for you. It’s good for your body and your heart (as well as your mind, but we’ll get to that later). In the same way, reading is the equivalent of a workout for your brain. Reading a good book, whether it be a mystery, romance, or thriller gets your brain firing in all the right ways and gives it the chance to stretch its neurological muscles.

Whether you choose to read or run, there’s going to be at least one part of your body that thanks you for it.

There’s always a struggle somewhere

That’s not to say it’s always easy though. Have you ever tried to force yourself through the war sections of “War and Peace’, after having little sleep and only functioning on the grace of black coffee? Because I have and it ain’t pretty.

The fact is, reading isn’t always effortless, especially if you want to challenge yourself and get outside of your comfort zone, actively searching for material that diverts from your usual terrain. Plus, when you do start a new book that’s not necessarily something you’d normally read, there’s no guarantee you’re going to enjoy it. If you don’t, there’s always the inevitable battle of forcing yourself to continue or discarding it in favour of something more comfortable.

The same can be said of running. Whether you’re doing a 5K or a marathon, there’s always a part where you need to physically and mentally push yourself through. Similarly to reading, there’s a pride that stops you from giving up, instead urging you on to the very end. Where, right on cue, those endorphins rush in like a biological ‘I did it’ affirmation and prompt you to get out and do it all over again a couple of days later.

The pressure of doing it right

Running and reading have a lot of positive similarities, but, as with all things, there are other characteristics they share that aren’t quite so shiny.

When we run, my husband will often ask, ‘Do you think people look at us and think we’re proper runners?’. Sometimes, I wonder the same thing and worry that the answer is no. I think this is part of the human inclination towards self-consciousness and I’m pretty sure we won’t be the only runners out there worrying about whether we deserve to share the road with the ‘proper’ athletes.

But what does that even mean? I put on my trainers and I run, so that must mean I belong to that category regardless of whether I’m the fastest or can run the furthest, right? In case you need to hear it, I still think you’re a proper runner even if you only go to the end of your road and back.

So how does this apply to books? It might not be directly verbalised as much, but sadly, there is such a thing as book snobbery: the belief that certain books are more worthwhile than others, perhaps because they’re heavily decorated with prizes or carry a historic significance.

Unsurprisingly, I call bullshit on this.

Like running, reading isn’t a competition to see who does it best. Instead, it should be something that brings you joy. If you want to read Foucault and Proust, you have my support and my admiration. Equally, if your shelves are lined with Mills & Boon or YA fantasy, I’m here for it. I don’t think we should see one as better than the other, especially if they make you happy.

Oh, and if you wanted to run a half marathon this year and haven’t managed it, or you’ve got a reading goal you’re nowhere near reaching, don’t worry about it. I set out to read 100 books this year and I wanted to run 15K. I’ve done neither of those things but I’m still breathing and there’s always next year.

It’s all about the escape

Whilst setting goals and being ambitious is great, sometimes it can obscure the main reason I enjoy reading and running — because they’re both ways I can escape for a small while.

I know it’s the most cliche thing going, but setting out on a run or cosying up with a book are two ways I can leave everything behind. Both are a time of mindful meditation that allows me the space to reset, particularly if it’s been a rough day, week, or year, as is the case for must of us in 2020.

They’re about taking time for yourself, in a world that places a lot of demands on your time and your emotions. That, more than anything, reinforces the links between them. So, if I decide to spend my lunch as a sweaty mess panting my way through town, ultimately, I get the same benefits as if I’d chosen to stay at home and bury myself in my book. Or at least, that’s what I’ll tell myself when I hit that inevitable struggle point around mile number three.

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Okay, so there might be many similarities here, but there are, of course, an equally long list of differences rooted mainly in the fact that reading is a very static occupation whilst running decidedly is not. And I wouldn’t be fooling anyone if I tried to insist I loved running just as much as I do reading — given the choice, I think we all know which one I’d rather be doing.

However, the two have more in common than I initially thought, and maybe next time it comes to stuffing myself into my lycra leggings and lacing up my trainers with numb fingers, I might set off a bit more eagerly than I would have done before. After all, something that shares so many characteristics with my very favourite occupation can’t be that bad, can it? And if it does turn out to be an absolute horror of a run, there will always be a good book waiting at home for me as a consultation prize for my efforts.