Book review: Kilian Jornet’s Run or Die
Kilian Jornet, at just 25, has been called the greatest endurance athlete of his generation. He has won the Sky Runner World Series three times, the Western States 100-miler, and the 166-kilometre Ultra Trail du Mont Blanc, considered the most difficult foot race in Europe. He has also set numerous fastest known times for ascents and descents of Mont Blanc, the Matterhorn and Kilimanjaro.
But we learn too few of these facts from the young Spaniard’s autobiography of his life so far, Run or Die, translated from Catalan and published in English by VeloPress. Rather, he unspools a dream-like narrative of his thoughts on running in present-tense storytelling that brings the reader along on such romps as an eight-day crossing of the Pyrenees; a 165-kilometre passage of the Tahoe Rim Trail; and a couple of record-breaking mountain climbs.
Jornet provides plenty of diary-like description of the ultra runner’s constant confrontation with exhaustion. To overcome monotony, he imagines himself a Native American delivering a message to a nearby tribe, a fugitive on the run, a knight in the Middle Ages.
But there is a frustrating lack of essential facts. What were the previous records he bested? Who set those records and by how much did Jornet break them? Why did he go after a particular record? And perhaps more pertinently, what were the logistics of setting up those massive journeys? Who supported his ventures, both on the ground and financially, and why? And what about that film crew that keeps popping up in the middle of mountain ranges?
In one of his more personal chapters, Jornet recounts an argument he had with the love of his life, Alba, before she left him. She points out that he has replaced all his old running idols with pictures of his own finish-line triumphs. This leads him to the realization that by surpassing his heroes, he has lost the magic in running and must look for new inspiration. He determines to find that in other people – by learning what makes them strong and gives them happiness. But his claim of self-awareness only makes him seem more self-involved. He shares virtually nothing in this memoir of what he may have learned from all those friends, coaches and fellow runners who have supported his career and logged countless kilometres pacing him to victories.
Jornet can’t be faulted entirely for his hubris – he is, after all, only 25 and has spent many more hours developing one of the highest VO2s ever recorded than he has his storytelling skills. But Jornet’s self-absorption is less bothersome than being left to flounder at the ends of chapters, wondering about many of the details of his epic feats.
Regardless, readers hungering to find meaning in their own running experiences will find poetry to savour here. Surprisingly sage ref lections such as, “there is no perfect way for every runner, but everybody has his perfect way of running,” make Jornet’s youthful memoir worth reading.
– Margaret Webb