Bravey

When I was younger, I was quite the fan of Alexi. I loved how quirky she was, how different from other female pro runners: unabashedly racing in lace or Spiderman tops (back when she was unsponsored), sporting her signature messy top bun (which I would try to replicate, to my chagrin, as top-knots are not suited to baby-fine, short hair), and pursuing lofty creative and athletic goals concurrently. However, when I actually dove into her creative projects... I don't want to be scathing, because I still really respect her, but eek. I saw Tracktown in a small Boston theater with 3 of my post-collegiate teammates, and we were the only ones there – and yet, we were still writhing with second-hand embarrassment for how upsettingly awkward the whole thing was. And while I appreciate that she shares poetry on social media, her Instagram poetry is... well, Instagram poetry. I personally find it more cutesy than critically good.

So, I had few expectations for this book. I figured I would walk away as I have from any of her other creative pursuits, thinking: “Well, that was not that great. But for a professional runner... meh, not bad.”

But I had a different experience with this book. It's part memoir, part self-help in a way that actually works. I don't feel like I'm the target audience for this book - but not too many years ago, I would have been - and the younger me would have really loved it. Current me liked it, especially as an audiobook that could distract me from some pretty clunky runs. I felt interested and engaged the whole time, and feel like her distinctive voice (both creative voice, and her actual vocal chord voice) lent itself well to this medium. I love how candid she is about mental health, and about her relationship with her mother, her body, and her dreams. It's not often we get books this honest. It's a good read for fellow distance runners, and probably a great read for younger female athletes.