This is not an instruction book, or the memoirs of a great athlete. It's not one of those 'I do lots of running, I'm a nutter' titles either, this is the immensely readable, frequently rambling memoirs of an eloquent middle-of-the pack runner.
If you do long runs, thoughts take over and they take you to some funny places, but never too far from a mild panic about injury or declining fitness and to read a distillation of that type of thinking by a much more erudite man is refreshing.
He explains that he never feels people like him, and there is no doubt that the author is a solitary man, but there's something of that in most long-distance athletes. There's not a great deal of warmth and the eriting is somewhat egocentric - before the last few chapters there's rarely a hint of the fact he's married; one gets the impression of a man who would be good company but only once in a while, yet he is self-deprecating by degrees and philosophical throughout.
For all of these reasons and more, this is probably the best running-based title out there, unless you want a 10K schedule, or to go all googly-eyed over people managing to run 3000 miles in the desert in half an hour.