Nike has been my go to sportswear brand for some time now. Shoe Dog had been sitting on my Want to Read list for ages. Every time I saw it on a bookstore shelf or a recommendation list, I told myself I would get to it soon. But it was not until I watched Air, the film about Nike’s legendary deal with Michael Jordan, that I finally made the purchase. Something about the film awakened my curiosity and I wanted to know more about the brand. I expected a polished, MBA style business manual, but what I got was something far better. Shoe Dog is raw and personal, showing Phil Knight at his most vulnerable.

Knight’s storytelling is so immersive that I felt his grief when Steve Prefontaine (Nike’s first sponsored athlete) passed away in a freak road accident. His journey is filled with uncertainty. He improvised, second guessed himself, and struggled everyday, but never gave up. My biggest takeaway was that even someone like Knight, whose net worth is now 33 billion dollars, never had it all figured out. Success is messy and this book captures that reality exceptionally well.

That said, not everything in Shoe Dog sat well with me. Before the IPO, Knight held on to nearly 50 percent of Nike’s equity, sharing very little with The Buttfaces (Jeff Johnson, Bob Woodell, Rob Strasser, and Delbert Hayes among others), the people who helped build the company. For a man so vocal about not liking equity, that felt ironic. His treatment of Jeff Johnson also left a bad impression. Johnson worked tirelessly, wrote countless unanswered letters, moved across the country multiple times, yet never received any meaningful equity in return.

What sets Shoe Dog apart from other business books I have read is the lack of exaggeration. There are no bullet points, no roadmaps to success, and no forced life lessons. It is just a story and a damn good one. Beyond the Nike journey, it is also a masterclass in writing. The first and last chapters, in particular, are brilliant. The opening is packed with rich anecdotes from his early days travelling the world, while the final chapter is deeply emotional, reflecting on his regrets, including not spending enough time with his children, the loss of his eldest son in a scuba diving accident, and his personal relationships with almost every Nike sponsored athlete.

One thing that stood out to me was how Knight, despite all the chaos in his life, still found the time to go for a 10 mile run almost everyday. Given that he is still alive and kicking at 87, that routine probably had something to do with it.

Some lines stayed with me after I closed the book:

Our time is short, shorter than we know, short as a morning run, and you want it to be meaningful.

When you run around an oval track, or down an empty road, you have no real destination. At least, none that can justify your effort. Whatever pleasure or gains you derive from act of running, you must find them within. Its all in how you frame it to yourself. You tell yourself you are running towards some goal, but you really run because the alternative, stopping scares you to death.

Visit the world’s most beautiful places before you are consumed by everyday minutiae.

Life is growth. You grow or you die.

When you see only problems, you’re not seeing clearly.

Don’t tell people how to do things, just tell them what to do and let them surprise you.

Beating the competition is relatively easy. Beating yourself is a never-ending commitment.

The single easiest way to find out how you feel about someone is to say goodbye to them.

Have faith in yourself, but also have faith in faith. Not faith as others define it. Faith as you define it. Faith as faith defines itself in your heart.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m heading out for a 5 KM run. In my Nikes, of course.