Born to Run by Christopher McDougall Finished "Born to Run" a couple of days ago. On the one hand, I read it in under 3 days and it would have been 1 only I kept finishing a chapter and then going for a run, or doing something else active, from the sheer inspiration it provided. On the other hand, it's a melodramatic and sentimental piece of gonzo hackwork with such a cavalier attitude to scientific method and so lacking in intellectual rigour that any copy would, I'm sure, burst into flames as soon as Ben Goldacre tried to pick it up.
None of which will dissuade me from running barefoot.
I've just finished this.
Charlotte's post led me to The Oatmeal's rather beautiful comic, which led me to want to read this book.
So I was at Gate 46 at Charles de Gaulle Airport in Paris, delayed by 40 minutes, and the guy sitting next to me was within ten pages of the end of this book. So I said to him, "'Scuse me, but I've been wanting to read that book for ages, and I can see you've nearly finished it, so if you get through it before we board, please can I have it?"
Canadians are
so polite. I don't think they know how to refuse. They say 'sorry' even more than the British. So he speed-read the end of his book and gave it to me.
It's great, and it is inspiring, and it kind of explained to me why, when I run, I go into a kind of meditative trance. In common with many people, my relationship with my body is often difficult. Running, almost as much as cycling, allows me to take ownership of my body, and to like it. Physical activity is a healing thing, mentally and spiritually, and if you take McDougall's hypothesis that the human body is meant to do endurance sport, it makes sense that this should be so.
My body likes running. I feel really free when I'm running.
I recommend this book.
It made me think of the disparity in the take-up of endurance sports between men and women, and how sad it is that even more women than men have no access to something that would make them more whole.
