Stew Hume finds And So I Run an interesting page-turner of a personal memoir – from mile one to mile 26.
In a landscape of running-centric books that either look to inspire or repeat that recurring narrative – “I can’t believe a person like me can run” – Jamie Doward’s And So I Run offers something slightly different.
Image: Mount Caburn during a South Downs Winter – a familiar trail for Doward | Credit: Shutterstock
With a background as a journalist – and the lifestyle habits that can sometimes come with the vocation – he soon discovers running that takes him out of the print-to-pint cycle.
Each chapter of And So I Run is split up into the miles of a marathon. Step-by-step, Doward takes readers on his own personal journey as he dedicates years of training to breaking that famed three-hour barrier. Through the trials and tribulations of striving to achieve this goal, the author does not always shine a positive light on his mission, pointing out the occasional absurdity of this past-time with witty self-deprecation. On the cover itself, Doward describes his goal as a ‘futile quest’ – this should give you a sense of the tone he is striking.
It’s an interesting read for any runners to perhaps reflect on their own relationship with the sport. The ‘never again’ internal conversation that happens midway through many races certainly struck a chord with me and anyone who has laced up for a long run will likely recognise themselves in some of the relatable anecdotes.
A recurring theme in And So I Run is the author’s take on the ‘fight or flight’ quandary and how it relates to his running journey, in light of the notion that he used the sport to escape everyday stressors. The author offers introspection on his own younger years, his career in journalism and his experience of becoming a parent. The book is an honest account of how he used running as a coping mechanism during these times and he certainly doesn’t shy away from some of his past issues.
By the end of the book, the reader gets the sense that Doward has found some inner solace and has faced up to aspects of his life that he was ‘running’ from. But And So I Run doesn’t fall into the trap of preaching to the audience.
This is not a guide to following in the author’s own footsteps but rather is a simple, honest reflection of a personal journey running through some of our fine British landscapes and cityscapes. It is perhaps not a book to pick up if you are seeking motivation to drag yourself out of the door to run for the first time, but for those who have built up a great deal of cumulative miles over the years it’s an enjoyable page-turner – from mile one to 26.2.
And So I Run is published by Vertebrate (paperback, £14.95)
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