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Born to Run [Format Kindle]

Christopher McDougall
4.7 étoiles sur 5  Voir tous les commentaires (26 commentaires client)

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Descriptions du produit

Extrait

To live with ghosts requires solitude.
—Anne Michaels, Fugitive Pieces

FOR DAYS, I’d been searching Mexico’s Sierra Madre for the phantom known as Caballo Blanco—the White Horse. I’d finally arrived at the end of the trail, in the last place I expected to find him—not deep in the wilderness he was said to haunt, but in the dim lobby of an old hotel on the edge of a dusty desert town. “Sí, El Caballo está,” the desk clerk said, nodding. Yes, the Horse is here.

“For real?” After hearing that I’d just missed him so many times, in so many bizarre locations, I’d begun to suspect that Caballo Blanco was nothing more than a fairy tale, a local Loch Ness mons - truo dreamed up to spook the kids and fool gullible gringos.

“He’s always back by five,” the clerk added. “It’s like a ritual.” I didn’t know whether to hug her in relief or high- five her in triumph. I checked my watch. That meant I’d actually lay eyes on the ghost in less than . . . hang on.

“But it’s already after six.”

The clerk shrugged. “Maybe he’s gone away.”

I sagged into an ancient sofa. I was filthy, famished, and defeated. I was exhausted, and so were my leads.

Some said Caballo Blanco was a fugitive; others heard he was a boxer who’d run off to punish himself after beating a man to death in the ring. No one knew his name, or age, or where he was from. He was like some Old West gunslinger whose only traces were tall tales and a whiff of cigarillo smoke. Descriptions and sightings were all over the map; villagers who lived impossible distances apart swore they’d seen him traveling on foot on the same day, and described him on a scale that swung wildly from “funny and simpático” to “freaky and gigantic.”

But in all versions of the Caballo Blanco legend, certain basic details were always the same: He’d come to Mexico years ago and trekked deep into the wild, impenetrable Barrancas del Cobre—the Copper Canyons—to live among the Tarahumara, a near- mythical tribe of Stone Age superathletes. The Tarahumara (pronounced Spanish- style by swallowing the “h”: Tara- oo- mara) may be the healthiest and most serene people on earth, and the greatest runners of all time.

When it comes to ultradistances, nothing can beat a Tarahumara runner—not a racehorse, not a cheetah, not an Olympic marathoner.

Very few outsiders have ever seen the Tarahumara in action, but amazing stories of their superhuman toughness and tranquillity have drifted out of the canyons for centuries. One explorer swore he saw a Tarahumara catch a deer with his bare hands, chasing the bounding animal until it finally dropped dead from exhaustion, “its hoofs falling off.” Another adventurer spent ten hours climbing up and over a Copper Canyon mountain by mule; a Tarahumara runner made the same trip in ninety minutes.

“Try this,” a Tarahumara woman once told an exhausted explorer who’d collapsed at the base of a mountain. She handed him a gourd full of a murky liquid. He swallowed a few gulps, and was amazed to feel new energy pulsing in his veins. He got to his feet and scaled the peak like an overcaffeinated Sherpa. The Tarahumara, the explorer would later report, also guarded the recipe to a special energy food that leaves them trim, powerful, and unstoppable: a few mouthfuls packed enough nutritional punch to let them run all day without rest.

But whatever secrets the Tarahumara are hiding, they’ve hidden them well. To this day, the Tarahumara live in the side of cliffs higher than a hawk’s nest in a land few have ever seen. The Barrancas are a lost world in the most remote wilderness in North America, a sort of a shorebound Bermuda Triangle known for swallowing the misfits and desperadoes who stray inside. Lots of bad things can happen down there, and probably will; survive the man- eating jaguars, deadly snakes, and blistering heat, and you’ve still got to deal with “canyon fever,” a potentially fatal freak- out brought on by the Barrancas’ desolate eeriness. The deeper you penetrate into the Barrancas, the more it feels like a crypt sliding shut around you. The walls tighten, shadows spread, phantom echoes whisper; every route out seems to end in sheer rock. Lost prospectors would be gripped by such madness and despair, they’d slash their own throats or hurl themselves off cliffs. Little surprise that few strangers have ever seen the Tarahumara’s homeland—let alone the Tarahumara.

But somehow the White Horse had made his way to the depths of the Barrancas. And there, it’s said, he was adopted by the Tarahumara as a friend and kindred spirit; a ghost among ghosts. He’d certainly mastered two Tarahumara skills—invisibility and extraordinary endurance—because even though he was spotted all over the canyons, no one seemed to know where he lived or when he might appear next. If anyone could translate the ancient secrets of the Tarahumara, I was told, it was this lone wanderer of the High Sierras.

I’d become so obsessed with finding Caballo Blanco that as I dozed on the hotel sofa, I could even imagine the sound of his voice.

“Probably like Yogi Bear ordering burritos at Taco Bell,” I mused. A guy like that, a wanderer who’d go anywhere but fit in nowhere, must live inside his own head and rarely hear his own voice. He’d make weird jokes and crack himself up. He’d have a booming laugh and atrocious Spanish. He’d be loud and chatty and . . . and . . .

Wait. I was hearing him. My eyes popped open to see a dusty cadaver in a tattered straw hat bantering with the desk clerk. Trail dust streaked his gaunt face like fading war paint, and the shocks of sun- bleached hair sticking out from under the hat could have been trimmed with a hunting knife. He looked like a castaway on a desert island, even to the way he seemed hungry for conversation with the bored clerk.

“Caballo?” I croaked.

The cadaver turned, smiling, and I felt like an idiot. He didn’t look wary; he looked confused, as any tourist would when confronted by a deranged man on a sofa suddenly hollering “Horse!”

This wasn’t Caballo. There was no Caballo. The whole thing was a hoax, and I’d fallen for it.

Then the cadaver spoke. “You know me?”

“Man!” I exploded, scrambling to my feet. “Am I glad to see you!”

The smile vanished. The cadaver’s eyes darted toward the door, making it clear that in another second, he would as well.

It all began with a simple question that no one in the world could answer.

That five-word puzzle led me to a photo of a very fast man in a very short skirt, and from there it only got stranger. Soon, I was dealing with a murder, drug guerrillas and a one-armed man with a cream-cheese cup strapped to his head. I met a beautiful, blonde forest ranger who slipped out of her clothes and found salvation by running naked in the Idaho forests, and a young surf babe in pigtails who ran straight toward her death in the desert. A talented young runner would die. Two others would barely escape with their lives.

I kept looking, and stumbled across the Barefoot Batman ... Naked Guy … Kalahari Bushmen ... the Toenail Amputee... a cult devoted to distance running and sex parties ... the Wild Man of the Blue Ridge Mountains ... and ultimately, the ancient tribe of the Tarahumara and their shadowy disciple, Caballo Blanco.

In the end, I got my answer, but only after I found myself in the middle of the greatest race the world would never see: the Ultimate Fighting Competition of footraces, an underground showdown pitting some of the best ultra-distance runners of our time against the best ultrarunners of all time, in a 50-mile race on hidden trails only Tarahumara feet had ever touched. I’d be startled to discover that the ancient saying of the Tao Te Ching — “The best runner leaves no trace” — wasn’t some gossamer koan, but real, concrete, how-to, training advice.

And all because in January, 2001, I asked my doctor this:

“How come my foot hurts?”

I’d gone to see one of the top sports-medicine specialists in the country because an invisible ice-pick was driving straight up through the sole of my foot. The week before, I’d been out for an easy, three-mile jog on a snowy farm road when I suddenly whinnied in pain, grabbing my right foot and screaming curses as I toppled over in the snow. When I got a grip on myself, I checked to see how badly I was bleeding. I must have impaled my foot on a sharp rock, I figured, or an old nail wedged in the ice. But there wasn’t a drop of blood, or even a hole in my shoe.

“Running is your problem,” Dr. Joe Torg confirmed when I limped into his Philadelphia examining room a few days later. He should know; Dr. Torg had not only helped create the entire field of sports medicine, but he also co-authored The Running Athlete, the definitive radiographic analysis of every conceivable running injury. He ran me through an X-Ray and watched me hobble around, then determined I’d aggravated my cuboid, a cluster of bones parallel to the arch which I hadn’t even known existed until it re-engineered itself into an internal Taser.

“But I’m barely running at all,” I said. “I’m doing, like, two or three miles every other day. And not even on asphalt. Mostly dirt roads.”

Didn’t matter. “The human body is not designed for that kind of abuse,” Dr. Torg replied.

But why? Antelope don’t get shin splints. Wolves don’t ice-pack their knees. I doubt that 80% of all wild mustangs are annually disabled with impact injuries. It reminded me of a proverb attributed to Roger Bannister, who, while simultaneously studying medicine, working as a clinical researcher and minting pithy parables, became the first man to break the 4-minute mile: "Every morning in Africa, a gazelle wakes up,” Bannister said. “It knows it must outrun the fastest lion or it will be killed. Every morning in Africa, a lion wakes up. It knows it must run faster than the slowest gazelle, or it will starve. It doesn't matter whether you're a lion or a gazelle - when the sun comes up, you'd better be running."

So why should every other mammal on the planet be able to depend on its legs except us? Come to think of it, how could a guy like Bannister charge out of the lab every day, pound around a hard cinder track in thin leather slippers, and not only get faster, but never get hurt? How come some of us can be out there running all lion-like and Bannister-ish every morning when the sun comes up, while the rest of us need a fistful of Ibuprofen before we can put our feet on the floor?

But maybe there was a path back in time, a way to flip the internal switch that changes us all back into the Natural Born Runners we once were. Not just in history, but in our own lifetimes. Remember? Back when you were a kid and you had to be yelled at to slow down? Every game you played, you played at top-speed, sprinting like crazy as you kicked cans, freed-all and attacked jungle outposts in your neighbors’ backyards. Half the fun of doing anything was doing it at record pace, making it probably the last time in your life you’d ever be hassled for going too fast.

That was the real secret of the Tarahumara: they’d never forgotten what it felt like to love running. They remembered that running was mankind’s first fine art, our original act of inspired creation. Way before we were scratching pictures on caves or beating rhythms on hollow trees, we were perfecting the art of combining our breath and mind and muscles into fluid self-propulsion over wild terrain. And when our ancestors finally did make their first cave paintings, what were the first designs? A downward slash, lightning bolts through the bottom and middle — behold, the Running Man.

Distance running was revered because it was indispensable; it was the way we survived and thrived and spread across the planet. You ran to eat and to avoid being eaten; you ran to find a mate and impress her, and with her you ran off to start a new life together. You had to love running, or you wouldn’t live to love anything else. And like everything else we love — everything we sentimentally call our “passions” and “desires” — it’s really an encoded ancestral necessity. We were born to run; we were born because we run. We’re all Running People, as the Tarahumara have always known.

Soon, I was setting off in search of the lost tribe of the Tarahumara and Caballo Blanco -- who, I would discover, had a secret mission of his own.




From the Hardcover edition.

Revue de presse

"A tale so mind-blowing as to be the stuff of legend." —The Denver Post

"McDougall's book reminded me of why I love to run." —Bill Rodgers, San Francisco Chronicle

"Fascinating. . . . Thrilling. . . . An operatic ode to the joys of running." —The Washington Post
 
“It’s a great book. . . . A really gripping read. . . .Unbelievable story . . . a really phenomenal book.” —Jon Stewart on The Daily Show

"One of the most entertaining running books ever." —Amby Burfoot, Runnersworld.com
 
“Equal parts quest, physiology treatise, and running history. . . . [McDougall] seeks to learn the secrets of the Tarahumara the old-fashioned way: He tracks them down. . . . The climactic race reads like a sprint. . . . It simply makes you want to run.” —Outside Magazine
 
“McDougall recounts his quest to understand near superhuman ultra-runners with adrenaline pumped writing, humor and a distinct voice...he never lets go from his impassioned mantra that humans were born to run.” —NPR
 
Born to Run is a fascinating and inspiring true adventure story, based on humans pushing themselves to the limits. It’s destined to become a classic.”–Sir Ranulph Fiennes, author of Mad, Bad and Dangerous To Know
 
“Equal parts hilarity, explanation and earnestness—whisks the reader along on a compelling dash to the end, and along the way captures the sheer joy that a brisk run brings.” —Science News
 
Born to Run is funny, insightful, captivating, and a great and beautiful discovery.” —Lynne Cox, author of Swimming to Antarctica
 
“A page-turner, taking the reader on an epic journey in search of the world’s greatest distance runners in an effort to uncover the secrets of their endurance.” —The Durango Herald
 
“Driven by an intense yet subtle curiosity, Christopher McDougall gamely treads across the continent to pierce the soul and science of long-distance running.”—Hampton Sides, author of Blood and Thunder and Ghost Soldiers


Détails sur le produit

  • Format : Format Kindle
  • Taille du fichier : 3053 KB
  • Nombre de pages de l'édition imprimée : 306 pages
  • Editeur : Vintage; Édition : 1 (4 mai 2009)
  • Vendu par : Amazon Media EU S.à r.l.
  • Langue : Anglais
  • ASIN: B0028MBKVG
  • Synthèse vocale : Non activée
  • X-Ray :
  • Word Wise: Activé
  • Composition améliorée: Activé
  • Moyenne des commentaires client : 4.7 étoiles sur 5  Voir tous les commentaires (26 commentaires client)
  • Classement des meilleures ventes d'Amazon: n°13.408 dans la Boutique Kindle (Voir le Top 100 dans la Boutique Kindle)

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Commentaires en ligne

4.7 étoiles sur 5
4.7 étoiles sur 5
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7 internautes sur 7 ont trouvé ce commentaire utile 
5.0 étoiles sur 5 Passionnant 14 janvier 2011
Par Gando38
Format:Relié
Un roman absolument passionnant sur la course à pied, le monde des coureurs de marathons et d'ultras, et les bienfaits de courir en chaussures minimalistes ou carrément pieds nus.
Impossible à lâcher une la lecture démarrée. Basée sur des personnes existantes, le récit est agrémenté de descriptions documentées sur l'histoire de la course à pied.
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4 internautes sur 4 ont trouvé ce commentaire utile 
5.0 étoiles sur 5 Très bon livre : même avec un anglais moyen 23 août 2012
Par jpb42
Format:Broché|Achat vérifié
Le livre est très bien écrit pour un lecteur intermédiaire. Je ne l'ai pas encore terminé mais avec l'aide d'un dictionnaire très petit (mini+ de Robert & Collins) l'histoire est compréhensible
De plus dernièrement 18 août 2012 Leadville 100 miles : un Français à gagné : Thomas LORBLANCHET en plus de Clermont Ferrand ! Que du bonheur de reprendre le cours de l'histoire.
La version Française sera pour moi aussi à lire pour vérifier ma compréhension : en cours d'édition
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3 internautes sur 3 ont trouvé ce commentaire utile 
5.0 étoiles sur 5 un super livre sur la course à pied 27 janvier 2012
Format:Broché
Un super livre, à la fois une quasi enquête sur une tribu de coureurs de la Sierra mexicaine, une recherche scientifique sur le pourquoi des blessures au pied, un bouquin sur la course "longue distance" et plus fondamentalement sur l'aptitude particulière de l'homme à la course à pied... PASSIONNANT
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1 internautes sur 1 ont trouvé ce commentaire utile 
5.0 étoiles sur 5 For any runner 3 février 2015
Format:Broché|Achat vérifié
Anyone who runs has heard of the tribe of ultra-runners hidden in Mexico, whose astounding running feats seem impossible to believe.

The author went in search of them, and this book reports who, and what, he found. The narrative is more like a slow-winding stream than a direct, fast-flowing torrent. The stream meanders, seems to lose sight of its goal, and then returns.

However, Mr. McDougall always entertains, even when he is exploring ancillary themes such as diet and running style, as well as running history.
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1 internautes sur 1 ont trouvé ce commentaire utile 
5.0 étoiles sur 5 You must Read that book 17 février 2013
Par xpower
Format:Format Kindle|Achat vérifié
Il faut lire ce livre ! C'est un livre très facile à lire qui raconte une histoire mais qui est plein de constats troublants Adepte de la chaussure minimaliste depuis quelques mois, des constats en matière de santé se sont imposes. Des constats que j'ai retrouvé dans ce livre. Un livre à lire absolument, mais après à chacun son truc !
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1 internautes sur 1 ont trouvé ce commentaire utile 
5.0 étoiles sur 5 à lire pour tout coureur 27 décembre 2011
Format:Broché
livre très étonnant qui démolit des dogmes ( une bonne chaussure est une
chaussure qui amortit ...par exemple ), qui nous donne envie de courir
comme les Tarahumaras du Mexique, et qui surtout nous fait encore plus
aimer courir, juste courir
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5.0 étoiles sur 5 Born to run 5 octobre 2014
Format:Format Kindle|Achat vérifié
Dés les premières lignes on est captivé et emporté vers ce monde des "ultra runners". Une histoire d'une course "folle" avec les Tarahoomara (the running people du nord Mexique) avec des chapitres très intéressants sur des coureurs mythiques et leurs apports. Le bouquin posé, on n'a qu'une envie, sortir et courir pour le plaisir.
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4 internautes sur 5 ont trouvé ce commentaire utile 
5.0 étoiles sur 5 Superbe livre 22 octobre 2010
Par blogodo
Format:Relié
Very easy to read, if you are a barefoot runner, go and buy it it is superbe.
good tips for the food and running style
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Commentaires client les plus récents
5.0 étoiles sur 5 Pour tout sportif, coureur ou pas
Très belle histoire, très bien écrit. Source de motivation pour tout sportif qu'il soit coureur ou autre. Lire la suite
Publié il y a 1 mois par JOHN
3.0 étoiles sur 5 livraison très rapide (arrivé en avance) mais contenu un...
j'ai été un peu déçu par le contenu qui n'est pas à la hauteur des critiques et finalement plus anecdotique que factuel
Publié il y a 2 mois par tamata
5.0 étoiles sur 5 Highly entertaining and informative
Made me switch to barefoot running and was also a great fun read. In addition it gives very interesting information about the research on barefoot running as well as the various... Lire la suite
Publié il y a 5 mois par ADRIAN MOS
5.0 étoiles sur 5 Inspirational
Great book for all runners, this book helps you to learn about the Mexican indigenous group and how they manage to run hundreds and hundreds of kilometers. Lire la suite
Publié il y a 7 mois par Sergio Schnaider
5.0 étoiles sur 5 This book is exceptionally well written
If you're interested in running, this is a must buy. Got to at 10 words, nothing else to say that though.
Publié il y a 8 mois par Bob
5.0 étoiles sur 5 captivating!
Not really a runner myself, i couldn't put down the book! The incredible stories described in a thrilling way make it hard to believe that they are true. Definitely a must read!
Publié il y a 10 mois par Anna
5.0 étoiles sur 5 un livre fascinant ! exotique.
un ouvrage qui vous invite à réfléchir et à vous documenter. Une tranche de vie dans un autre monde. J'en garde un très bon souvenir.
Publié il y a 12 mois par Patrice Pomeyrols
4.0 étoiles sur 5 super livre et bon motivateur pour la course à pied
un livre que je conseille tout à fait pour tout pratiquant de running, et autre
introduction interessant sur le barefoot running
Publié il y a 12 mois par Charlie Zepp
5.0 étoiles sur 5 Fantastic book
One of the greatest books I've ever read! If running is what you enjoy then you'll love this book. Amazing!
Publié il y a 17 mois par Fred
5.0 étoiles sur 5 Super livre
Superbe livre et une histire passionante. A recommander pour tout ceux qui courrent ... meme occasionellement. Attends le prochain avec impatience
Publié il y a 18 mois par Dimitri Dupont
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