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Eat And Run: My Unlikely Journey to Ultramarathon Greatness (English Edition) van [Scott Jurek, Steve Friedman]

Eat And Run: My Unlikely Journey to Ultramarathon Greatness (English Edition) Kindle-editie

Engels editie Scott Jurek (auteur), Steve Friedman (auteur) Indeling: Kindle-editie

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The New York Times bestseller Eat and Run is "the inspiring story of an inspired man. Scott Jurek's phenomenal success as an ultra-marathoner demonstrates that meat and other animal foods are not necessary for optimum health, strength, and endurance."—Andrew Weil, #1 New York Times bestelling author of Spontaneous Happiness

For nearly two decades, Scott Jurek has been a dominant force — and darling — in the grueling and growing sport of ultrarunning. He held the American 24-hour record and he was one of the elite runners profiled in the runaway bestseller Born to Run. In Eat and Run, Jurek opens up about his life and career as a champion athlete with a plant-based diet and inspires runners at every level.

From his Midwestern childhood hunting, fishing, and cooking for his meat-and-potatoes family to his slow transition to ultrarunning and veganism, Scott’s story shows the power of an iron will and blows apart the stereotypes of what athletes should eat to fuel optimal performance. Full of stories of competition as well as science and practical advice — including his own recipes — Eat and Run will motivate readers and expand their food horizons.

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Printlengte

273 pagina's
Taal

Engels
Uitgever

Mariner Books
Publicatiedatum

5 juni 2012
Bestandsgrootte

13375 KB
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Recensie

The surprise here isn't that Scott Jurek knows a lot about nutrition--I especially love his Holy Moly Guacamole recipe. Or that he ran prodigious mileage to prepare for his many ultramarathon victories. More impressively, we discover that Jurek studied many of the great philosophers, and used their lessons to focus his running. In pursuing the mental side of endurance, Jurek uncovers the most important secrets any runner can learn. --Amby Burfoot, winner of the 1968 Boston Marathon and author of The Runner's Guide to the Meaning of Life

What a triumph--both Scott Jurek's life and this one-of-a-kind book. I've seen Scott in action as he defies unimaginable challenges, and thanks to this breathtakingly personal account, I finally understand how he does it. He rebuilt himself literally from the inside out, and the result is a man--and a story--unlike any other. --Christopher McDougall, best-selling author of Born to Run This is the inspiring story of an inspired man. Scott Jurek's phenomenal success as an ultramarathoner demonstrates that meat and other animal foods are not necessary for optimum health, strength, and endurance. --Andrew Weil, M.D. author of Spontaneous Happiness and 8 Weeks to Optimum Health

--Deze tekst verwijst naar de audioCD editie.

Over de auteur

SCOTT JUREK is a world-renowned ultramarathon champion who trains and races on a vegan diet, as chronicled in his New York Times besteller Eat and Run. He has prominently appeared in two New York Times bestsellers, Born to Run and The 4-Hour Body, and has been featured on CNN and in The New York Times, USA Today, the Wall Street Journal, and numerous other media. Known and admired for his earth-conscious lifestyle, Scott is also a highly sought after motivational speaker, physical therapist, coach, and chef. He has delivered talks to numerous organizations, including Microsoft, Starbucks, and the esteemed Entertainment Gathering.

STEVE FRIEDMAN is the author of Lost on Treasure Island, Driving Lessons, and The Agony of Victory and co-author of the New York Times bestseller Loose Balls. His work has appeared numerous times in The Best American Sports Writing. His website is stevefriedman.net. --Deze tekst verwijst naar de audioCD editie.

Fragment. Herdrukt met toestemming. Alle rechten voorbehouden.

PrologueI was a shy kid with high blood pressure. I grew into a skinny adolescent whom other kids teased and called “Pee-Wee.” I wasn’t the fastest kid in my school, or the strongest, or even the smartest. I was common as grass, longing for something I couldn’t even name. I was like everyone else, the same. Then I found something.    I’m not going to offer any vague parables about inspiration and belief. I’m not going to promise you that if you want to achieve your dream, all you need is faith. No, I am going to show you—in concrete terms—how I transformed myself from the inside out and how you can do it too. Whether you’re a marathoner or weekend jogger, swimmer or cyclist, young or old, fit or fat, you can do this. I know because I did it.    The story of my life is going to sound very familiar. Not in the details (unless you’ve found yourself face down in Death Valley, that is), but in the desire. It’s the tale of everyone who has ever felt stuck, of anyone who has dreamed of doing more, of being more.    I was stuck like that a few years ago in one of the lowest, hottest spots on the planet. That’s where I’ll start my story. That’s where I’ll start your story.1 Somebody BADWATER ULTRAMARATHON, DEATH VALLEY, CALIFORNIA, 2005 The best way out is always through. —Robert FrostMy brain was on fire. My body was burning up. Death Valley had laid me out flat, and now it was cooking me. My crew was telling me to get up, that they knew I could go on, but I could barely hear them. I was too busy puking, then watching the stream of liquid evaporate in the circle of light from my headlamp almost as fast as it splashed down on the steaming pavement. It was an hour before midnight, 105 incinerating, soul-sucking degrees. This was supposed to be my time. This was the point in a race where I had made a career of locating hidden reservoirs of sheer will that others didn’t possess, discovering powers that propelled me to distances and speeds that others couldn’t match. But tonight, roasting on the pavement, all I could summon was the memory of a television commercial I had seen as a child. First there’s an egg in someone’s fingers and a voice says, “This is your brain.” Then the owner of the hand cracks the egg, and as it sizzles and crackles onto a hot skillet, the voice says, “And this is your brain on drugs.” I saw that image in the scorching nighttime sky. I heard the disembodied voice. But what I thought was: “This is my brain on Badwater.”    I had just run 70 miles through a place where others had died walking, and I had 65 more to go. I reminded myself that this was the point in the race where I was supposed to dust anyone foolish enough to have kept up with me in the first half. In fact, I had started this race intending to shatter its record never mind worry about winning it. And now I didn’t think I could finish.    There was only one answer: Get up and run. Whatever the problem in my life, the solution had always been the same: Keep going! My lungs might be screaming for oxygen, my muscles might be crying in agony, but I had always known the answer lay in my mind. Tired tendons had begged for rest in other places, my flesh had demanded relief, but I had been able to keep running because of my mind. But not now. What had gone wrong?    Running was what I did. Running was what I loved. Running was—to a large extent—who I was. In the sport I had chosen as avocation, career, obsession, and unerring but merciless teacher, running was how I answered any challenge.    Technically speaking, I was an ultramarathoner. So I competed in any foot race longer than the marathon distance of 26.2 miles. In point of fact, though, I had fashioned a career from running and winning races of at least 50 miles, most often 100, and every so often 135 and 150 miles. Some I had led from start to finish, others I had stayed comfortably back until the point when I needed to find another gear. So why was I on the side of the road vomiting, unable to go on?    Never mind my success. People had warned me that this race—this 135-mile jaunt through Death Valley—was too long and that I hadn’t given my body enough time to recover from my last race—a race I had won just two weeks earlier, the rugged and prestigious Western States 100 Mile. People had said that my diet—I had been eating only plant-based foods for seven years—would never sustain me. No one had voiced what I now suspected might be my real problem—that I had underestimated the race itself.    Some ultras curve through level virgin forest, next to melodious streams, past fields of wildflowers. Some ultras occur in the cool melancholy of autumn, others in the invigorating chill of early spring.    Then there were the ultras like the one that had felled me. Its proper name was the Badwater UltraMarathon. Competitors called it the Badwater 135, and a lot of people knew it as “the toughest foot race on earth.”    But I hadn’t taken such talk too seriously. I thought I had run more difficult courses. I thought I had faced much faster, tougher competition. I had raced in snow and rain, won events in far corners of the earth. I had scrambled up loose rock, over peaks of 14,000 feet. I had hopscotched down boulder fields, forded across icy streams. I was used to trails that caused deer to stumble and falter.    Sure, the Badwater flat-lined through Death Valley at the hottest time of the year. And yes, according to Badwater legend, one year when a shoe company handed out its product to all entrants, many of the soles supposedly melted on the scorching pavement.    But that was just a story, right? And though the Badwater did sizzle and though it was longer than I usually race, its brutality was unidimensional. I was used to forbidding terrain, climate, and competition. Other ultras inspire not just reverence but fear. The Badwater? The truth is, a lot of the most accomplished and well-known ultrarunners had never run it. Yeah, Death Valley made it sound ominous, if not fatal, but when you are in a zone running at levels one might call superhuman, tales of danger and death aren’t uncommon. Ultrarunners liked the stories but didn’t dwell on them. We couldn’t.    It wasn’t that I hadn’t prepared; in my line of work, lack of preparation was tantamount to self-abuse. I had purchased an industrial-sized sprayer so that I could be hosed down at regular intervals. I had worn specially designed heat-reflecting pants and shirt. I had guzzled 60 ounces of water (the equivalent of three bicycle bottles) every hour for the first 6 hours of the race. But those precautions were designed to shield my body. No industrial sprayer was going to protect my mind. And an ultrarunner’s mind is what matters more than anything.Racing ultras requires absolute confidence tempered with intense humility. To be a champion, you have to believe that you can destroy your competition. But you also have to realize that winning requires total commitment, and a wavering of focus, a lack of drive, a single misstep, might lead to defeat or worse. Had I been too confident, not humble enough?    Early in the race, after 17 miles, a marine who had dropped out saluted me as I ran past him because he knew my reputation. Another runner, a desert race veteran, dropped out about 30 miles later, right about the time he realized his urine was flowing dark as coffee. He knew my reputation, too. But my reputation wasn’t helping me now. Neither was my earlier confidence.    The leader was a fifty-year-old ship pilot and cliff diver named Mike Sweeney, whose high dive training had included smacking himself on the head. Trailing him was a forty-eight-year-old Canadian baggage handler named Ferg Hawke, who was fond of quoting Friedrich Nietzsche.    Journalists in the running press called me “the Real Deal.” But was I? Or was I a fraud?    Moments of questioning come to us all. It is human nature to ask why we put ourselves in certain situations and why life places hurdles in our path. Only the most saintly and delusional among us welcomes all pain as challenge, perceives all loss as harsh blessing. I know that. I know that I’ve chosen a sport stuffed with long stretches of agony, that I belong to a small, eclectic community of men and women where status is calibrated precisely as a function of one’s ability to endure. Hallucinations and vomiting, to me and my fellow ultrarunners, are like grass stains to Little Leaguers. Chafing, black toenails, and dehydration are just the rites of passage for those of us who race 50 and 100 miles and more. A marathon is a peaceful prologue, a time to think and work out kinks. Ultrarunners often blister so badly they have to tear off toenails to relieve pressure. One ultrarunner had his surgically removed before a race, just in case, so he wouldn’t need to bother later on. Cramps don’t merit attention. Unless nearby lightning makes the hair on your arms and head stand up and dance, it’s nothing but scenery. Altitude headaches are as common as sweat and inspire approximately the same degree of concern (the death by brain aneurysm of one runner in a Colorado race notwithstanding). Aches are either ignored, embraced, or, for some, treated with ibuprofen, which can be risky. Combined with heavy sweating, too much ibuprofen can cause kidney failure, which usually results in ghostly pallor and, if you’re lucky, an airlift by helicopter to the nearest hospital. As an ultrarunner buddy and physician once said, “Not all pain is significant.”    Ultrarunners take off at sunrise and continue through sunset, moonrise, and another sunrise, sunset, and moonrise. Sometimes we stumble from exhaustion and double over with pain, while other times we effortlessly float over rocky trails and hammer up a 3,000-foot climb after accessing an unknown source of strength. We run with bruised bones and scraped skin. It’s a hard, simple calculus: Run until you can’t run anymore. Then run some more. Find a new source of energy and will. Then run even faster.    Other sports take safety precautions, but in ultramarathons, we have death-avoiding precautions baked into the enterprise. Most ultras are dotted with aid stations, where runners are tracked, sometimes weighed, and provided with snacks, shade, and medical checkups. The majority of races also include pacers, who are allowed to accompany runners in latter sections of the course (but only for advice and to keep them from getting lost, not for carrying food or water). Ultrarunners can—much of the time—bring support crews, men and women who provide food, water, updates on competitors, and reassurance that you can, in fact, continue when you are sure you will collapse.    Nearly all ultras are run continuously, meaning that there is no point at which the clock stops and everyone gets to retire for a large plate of pasta and a well-deserved night’s sleep, like competitors in the Tour de France do. That’s part of the challenge and appeal of the event. You keep going in situations where most people stop. You keep running while other people rest.    But that was my problem—it was other people who stopped to rest. Not me. But now it was me. I simply couldn’t go on.    My buddy and support crew member Rick was telling me he knew I could do it. He was mistaken. What had I done wrong? Was it my training and lack of recovery? Was it my race schedule? Had my mental approach been wrong? Was it what I had been eating? Was I thinking too much?    Ultramarathons give you plenty of time to think—that is, when you’re not watching out for mountain lions, avoiding sheer drops, or responding to grinning rocks and gibbering trees (which your mind can’t believe are mere phantasms). Stopping in an ultra, quitting, gives you even more time to ponder. But perhaps I wanted time to stop. Maybe I was meant to lie here on my back in the desert to question why I was running through an oven. Why was I subjecting myself to this torture?    I started running for reasons I had only just begun to understand. As a child, I ran in the woods and around my house for fun. As a teen, I ran to get my body in better shape. Later, I ran to find peace. 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.At another time, on another summer night, in another race, I might have gazed in wonder at the stars glittering against the velvety black night. I might have swiveled my head to peer at the snowy Sierra Nevada peaks looming like grouchy sentries on the edge of the endless desert and seen, not scowling defeat, but majesty. I would have moved toward the mountains’ dark, disapproving bulk until it had transformed to welcome.    “My stomach,” I moaned. “My stomach.” A couple of my crew members suggested I should crawl into the coffin-sized, ice-filled cooler they had lugged up the road to get my core temperature down, but I had tried that already. Rick told me to put my feet in the air—that might help me feel better. He told me I should do it on the side away from the road so the other crews wouldn’t be able to see me, because their reports would only embolden their runners. Didn’t he realize that the other runners didn’t need emboldening? The guy with the reputation wasn’t going anywhere.    Not moving was actually pleasant. It wasn’t nearly as shameful as I had imagined. It allowed me to ponder my hubris.    If it had been a movie, this was the place where I would close my eyes and hear the faint, strangled voice of my bedridden mother, telling me she loved me and that she knew I could do whatever I wanted, and I would have flushed with shame, and then I would have heard the authoritative voice of my father, telling me, “Sometimes you just do things!” I would have risen to my elbows, shut my eyes, and pictured all the middle school kids who had called me Pee-Wee, and they would have melted into all the naysayers who had questioned me at the beginning of my career, who said that I was nothing to worry about, I was nothing but a flatlander. In that movie I would have risen to my knees and suddenly remembered who I was—I was a runner!—and I would have pulled myself up, stood tall, and started walking, then loping, into the thick desert night, chasing down the two seasoned veterans in front of me as a wolf chases doomed field mice.    I tried to puke some more, but it was all dry heaving, the type that is excruciating with every empty pump of the stomach.    My crew and close friends told me to close my eyes and relax. Instead, I stared at the stars. Everyone and the desert disappeared. Loss of peripheral vision was one manifestation of dehydration and passing out. Was that what was happening? It was as if I was looking through a tunnel at a small circle in an infinite, glittery sky.    My crew told me to take some little sips of water, but I couldn’t. I was thinking, “I don’t think this is gonna happen,” and then I heard a noise, and it was my voice saying what I was thinking: “I don’t think this is gonna happen.”    The stars didn’t care. That’s another pleasure of running an ultra: the absolute and soothing indifference of the land and the sky. So I made a mistake? It wasn’t the worst thing in the world; the constellations weren’t gossiping about me. Maybe this would help me with humility. Maybe dropping out and being defeated would renew my spirit. Maybe cutting one race short was a good thing.    If only I could have made myself believe that.    Should I have listened to the trainers and doctors who said that athletes needed to fill their bodies with animal protein? Should I have trained less? I had thought I was invincible. I closed my eyes.    I had been schooled by nuns, raised by a mother who had been sprinkled with holy water from Lourdes, hoping it would help her rise from her wheelchair. Now it was me who couldn’t rise.    I hadn’t always been the fastest runner, but I had always considered myself one of the toughest. Maybe acceptance of my limits was the toughest thing of all. Maybe staying where I was wasn’t weak but strong. Maybe accepting my limits meant it was time to stop being a runner, to start being something else. But what? If I wasn’t a runner, who was I?    I looked again at the stars. They had no opinion on the matter.    Then, from the desert, a voice, an old familiar voice.    “You’re not gonna win this fucking race lying down in the dirt. C’mon, Jurker, get the fuck up.”    It was my old friend Dusty. That made me smile. He almost always made me smile, even when everyone around him was cringing.    “Get the fuck up!” Dusty yelled, but I couldn’t. I wouldn’t.    “Sweeney is out there dying, and you’re gonna take that dude. We’re gonna take that dude!”    I looked at my friend. Couldn’t he see that I wasn’t going to take anyone?    He squatted, folded himself until our faces were inches apart. He looked into my eyes.    “Do you wanna be somebody, Jurker? Do you wanna be somebody?” --Deze tekst verwijst naar de audioCD editie.

Flaptekst

For nearly two decades, Scott Jurek has been a dominant force—and darling—in the grueling and growing sport of ultrarunning. In 1999, as a complete unknown, he took the lead of the Western States Endurance Run, a 100-mile traverse over the old Gold Rush trails of the California Sierra Nevada. He won that race seven years in a row, setting a course record along the way. Twice he won the Badwater Ultramarathon, a 135-mile “jaunt” through Death Valley. He triumphed in the 153-mile Spartathlon in Greece three times. And he was one of the elite runners who traveled to Mexico to run with the Tarahumara Indians, as profiled in the runaway bestseller Born to Run. His accomplishments are nothing short of extraordinary, but that he has achieved all of this on a plant-based diet makes his story all the more so.

In Eat and Run, Scott Jurek opens up about his life and career—as an elite athlete and a vegan—and inspires runners at every level. From his Midwestern childhood hunting, fishing, and cooking for his meat-and-potatoes family, to his early beginnings in running (he hated it), to his slow transition to ultrarunning and veganism, to his world-spanning, record-breaking races—Scott’s story shows the power of an iron will and blows apart all the stereotypes of what athletes should eat to fuel optimal performance. Chock full of incredible, on-the-brink stories of endurance and competition as well as fascinating science and accessible practical advice—including his own favorite plant-based recipes—Eat and Run will motivate everyone to “go the distance,” whether that means getting out for that first run, expanding their food horizons, or simply exploring the limits of their own potential.

--Deze tekst verwijst naar een alternatieve kindle_edition editie.

Achterflaptekst

Advance Praise for Eat and Run

“What a triumph, both Scott Jurek’s life and this one-of-a-kind book. I’ve seen Jurek in action as he defies unimaginable challenges, and thanks to this breathtakingly personal account, I finally understand how he does it. He rebuilt himself literally from the inside out, and the result is a man—and a story—unlike any other.”—Christopher McDougall, author of Born to Run

“The surprise here isn’t that Scott Jurek knows a lot about nutrition. Or that he ran prodigious mileage. More impressively, we discover that Jurek studied many of the great philosophers and used their lessons to focus his running. In pursuing the mental side of endurance, Jurek uncovers the most important secrets any runner can learn.”—Amby Burfoot, author of The Runner’s Guide to the Meaning of Life

--Deze tekst verwijst naar een alternatieve kindle_edition editie.

Meer lezen

Productgegevens

ASIN ‏ : ‎ B005OCHOZS
Uitgever ‏ : ‎ Mariner Books (5 juni 2012)
Taal ‏ : ‎ Engels
Bestandsgrootte ‏ : ‎ 13375 KB
Tekst-naar-spraak ‏ : ‎ Ingeschakeld
Schermlezer ‏ : ‎ Ondersteund
Verbeterd lettertype ‏ : ‎ Ingeschakeld
X-Ray ‏ : ‎ Ingeschakeld
Word Wise ‏ : ‎ Ingeschakeld
Printlengte ‏ : ‎ 273 pagina's

Plaats in bestsellerlijst: #111,709 in Kindle Store (Top 100 in bekijkenKindle Store)
- #577 in Hardlopen (Boeken)
- #1,098 in Sport in het Engels
- #1,112 in Andere talen boeken over sport & vrije tijd

Klantenrecensies:
2.469 beoordelingen

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2.571
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Adharanand Finn
1.078
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Klantenrecensies

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4 sterren		20%
3 sterren		5%
2 sterren		1%
1 ster		1%

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Beste recensies uit andere landen

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Amazonaddict

Eh - it's alright.

Beoordeeld in het Verenigd Koninkrijk op 14 maart 2019

Geverifieerde aankoop

It's just OK. I'm really fascinated by endurance athletes and I know about Jureks background before I bought this, so you'd think I'd be a fan of this book. But it honestly drones on and on and on and the story doesn't really have much structure - one day he's on his high horse about plant based eating, then he's telling us he's eating McDonald's every week, then back to his high horse on eating vegan. I really don't care about the minutiae of his diet over a decade to that level of detail. I was originally really interested in hearing about his diet but it was very preachy and self-involved, with passive aggressive comments about how others eat, even straight after telling us about his humble upbringing on a meat based diet. It honestly was really boring after a while. I wanted to hear more about his training and his day to day life before winning a race. I know it's a book about HIM but I just feel like I'm reading the first draft of a novel full of moaning and self-indulgent facts, that still needs an outsider to bring him down to earth and add some structure. Also, the recipes are weirdly placed in between chapters. During the few moments where you're really into the story, it then breaks into a totally unexpected recipe. Maybe should have been left as an appendix in the back. I wouldn't exactly jump at the chance to recommend this book.

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29 mensen vonden dit nuttig

Vertaal recensie in het Nederlands

Stephanie Jane (Literary Flits)

Inspirational!

Beoordeeld in het Verenigd Koninkrijk op 5 augustus 2021

Geverifieerde aankoop

I first heard about Scott Jurek by reading Chris McDougall's now-famous book, Born To Run, a decade ago during the years when I was a runner myself, abeit a much slower one whose personal best distance was a half marathon. After knackering my calf muscles, I drifted away from anything to do with running so was surprised to see Jurek's name reappearing recently in connection with veganism. If I had known about his plantbased diet back then, I hadn't remembered, but I did recall how inspirational he had been in getting me moving so I wondered if Eat And Run would be a similar motivator for my vegan journey. Not that I really need motivation there. I'm yet to experience a single day when I regret becoming vegan!

Eat and Run tells Jurek's life story from childhood until 2010 with each chapter focused towards a particular ultramarathon that he ran in. I liked this structure which is mostly chronological, but with asides where necessary. The book is very readable in style and tone and I devoured it in just two days. Jurek includes his own vegan recipes at the end of each chapter and I appreciated how he takes time to explain his plantbased food discoveries alongside his running achievements (and disasters). I haven't yet tried any of the recipes, but have listed ingredients for a selection of the simpler ones ready for my next shop. The recipes do understandably have a strong American bias, ingredients-wise, but I can substitute European-grown foods in several cases.

I finished Eat And Run feeling wonderfully energised and promptly took myself off for a good walk around the local fields for an hour. I don't think the book will tempt me to risk running again any time soon, but I am glad that Jurek's enthusiasm for exercise and movement came through to me so effectively. I've been too sedentary, and gradually getting even more so, through lockdown. Hopefully Eat And Run's motivational vibes can help me turn that around.

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2 mensen vonden dit nuttig

Vertaal recensie in het Nederlands

sam hunt

A good read, very positive

Beoordeeld in het Verenigd Koninkrijk op 23 november 2016

Geverifieerde aankoop

I've loved this book, so much in fact I've bought a copy for my sister.

I'm not a vegan and I hate tails that start with "I was a hopeless drunk/drug addict" and so on. This book however explains how unlikely things can be of great benafit to any runner. I really enjoyed the positive vain that runs all the way through this book. It's not preaching and it's not self help and I think it applies to both new runners and ultra runners along with everyone in between.

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11 mensen vonden dit nuttig

Vertaal recensie in het Nederlands

5t4n5 Dot Com

One of the greatest runners ever...

Beoordeeld in het Verenigd Koninkrijk op 25 april 2019

Geverifieerde aankoop

This is a great book by Scott Jurek one of ultra’s greatest ever competitors. Like ‘Finding Ultra’ by Rich Roll, this book doesn’t go into training for ultras or anything like that, it just chronicles Scott’s journey from childhood through to ultramarathon champion and how he got there, with great accounts of some of his greatest races.

And also like Finding Ultra’s writer, Rich Roll, Scott Jurek is also a vegan, or ‘plant based athlete’ which seems to be the more politically correct term vegan athletes are choosing theses days. And sprinkled liberally throughout the book are lots of Scott’s favourite recipes for you to try if you so wish. In a lot of ways it’s like a vegan cook book with a great story shoved in between the recipes.

Well worth a read. Especially for those with any designs on endurance training or participating in endurance sports.

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4 mensen vonden dit nuttig

Vertaal recensie in het Nederlands

Jason Wilkinson

Inspiring, lessons learned, new recipes tried!

Beoordeeld in het Verenigd Koninkrijk op 28 februari 2020

Geverifieerde aankoop

Scott Jurek appears to be almost as good at writing about his story as he is at running! This is a superbly written book, full of fantastic background on his life and what made him into the sort of human being capable of achieving the incredible feats he has. The book also contains a few recipes that Scott has learned over the years, all vegan, I'm not vegan but I am a keen runner and I'm all for good food, the guacamole recipe and the vegan chilli recipe are my two favourites!
Read this book as a runner and you will not be disappointed, if anything it'll probably make you start thinking how far you can push yourself. Even if you are not a runner and just enjoy stories of human beings achieving seemingly impossible feats or a good story and nothing more, this is a great book and it;ll leave you with at least a few recipes and if nothing else, a smile on your face and a good all round feeling about the capabilities we all have within us.

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