We had trails and the fresh air and a little water and food and our fit bodies to move through and with the land. That was all we needed. Seeing Kyle and Tony so happy reminded me that that was all I ever needed, all any of us needed. How had I drifted away from those simple joys? I wanted to regain the purity and gratitude that Kyle and Tony seemed to hold so effortlessly, so lightly.

I ran, and kept running, because I had learned that once you started something you didn’t quit, because in life, much like in an ultramarathon, you have to keep pressing forward. Eventually I ran because I turned into a runner, and my sport brought me physical pleasure and spirited me away from debt and disease, from the niggling worries of everyday existence. I ran because I grew to love other runners. I ran because I loved challenges and because there is no better feeling than arriving at the finish line or completing a difficult training run. And because, as an accomplished runner, I could tell others how rewarding it was to live healthily, to move my body every day, to get through difficulties, to eat with consciousness, that what mattered wasn’t how much money you made or where you lived, it was how you lived. I ran because overcoming the difficulties of an ultramarathon reminded me that I could overcome the difficulties of life, that overcoming difficulties was life. Could I quit and not be a quitter? “You’ve done it before,” Rick said. “You can do it again.” I appreciated the optimism. I also appreciated its idiocy.

Rarely do you come across a book that is grippingly entertainin, highly informative and potentially lifechanging at the same time.

I picked it up because of my increased interest in running. I’ve also started to become a bit fascinated with marathon and ultra running, hoping to seek my own limits in these sports one day.

The Body

Eat and Run tells the story of Scott Jurek, one of the most famous and succesful ultrarunners in history. It starts with his childhood and documents his process and explains why he started running, and how he eventually ended up eating a vegan diet.

I’ve been plant based for 7 years already, but if I were in need of more convincing, this book would definitely convince me to become vegan. Instead of pages of quotations of studies, Scott provides his subjective account of becoming vegan and how it affected his performance:

I learned that I could eat more, enjoy it more, and still get leaner than I had ever been in my life. When I went vegan, I started eating more whole grains and legumes, fruits and vegetables. My cheekbones seemed more pronounced, my face more chiseled. Muscles I didn’t even know I had popped out. I was eating more, losing weight, and gaining muscle—all on a vegan diet. My recovery times between workouts and races got even shorter. I wasn’t even sore the day after 50-mile races. I woke up with more energy every day. Fruit tasted sweeter, vegetables crunchier and more flavorful. I was doing short runs in the morning, working 8- to 10-hour days, then running 10 to 20 miles in the evening. I felt as if my concentration was improving every day.

Anyone who pays attention to what they eat and how it affects them will naturally move toward plants—and toward health.

The Mind

The other aspect of ultrarunning, which draws me the most, is the psychological side of it. It takes massive mental strength to power yourself through a 24 or 48 hour race of constant running without any sleep. How long can you fight the urge to give up?

Scott tells gripping stories of his races and how he had to work with his own psyche to get through the worst parts. I find the accounts fascinating where he describes being ready to give up, but somehow finding a new source of energy out of nothing and finishing the race in great shape.

When I got to the 50-mile mark I couldn’t think that I had 100 miles to go. I had to remember and forget. We move forward, but we must stay in the present. I tried to do so by breaking races into small, digestible parts. Sometimes I focused on the next aid station, three miles ahead. Sometimes I pictured the next shady spot down the road, or the next step.

That’s one of the many great pleasures of an ultramarathon. You can hurt more than you ever thought possible, then continue until you discover that hurting isn’t that big a deal. Forget a second wind. In an ultra you can get a third, a fourth, a fifth even. I still had more than 40 miles to go, but that’s a second wonderful thing about 100- (and plus) milers. You can trail, and despair, and screw up, and despair more, and there’s almost always another chance. Salvation is always within reach. You can’t reach it by thinking or by figuring it out. Sometimes you just do things.

Even if you are not into running or plant based nutrition, this book can be an interesting read. I think there is something fascinating about powering yourself through 100 miles, fighting the pain and suffering and finding energy from nowhere that anybody can appreciate.

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