Ultrarunning may seem like an extreme sport, yet writer Christopher McDougall would have you believe that it is in fact what we were all born to do—a basic skill that all humans possess, but we’ve simply forgotten. McDougall himself is an ultrarunner, albeit an unlikely one. Tired of endless running injuries and intrigued by stories of the Tarahumara Indians of Mexico, who run in sandals for 50 or 100 miles at a time, McDougall set about unraveling the mysteries of running once and for all. In Mexico’s Copper Canyon country, he found what he was looking for: the fleet-footed Tarahumara, plus an oddball American runner known as “Caballo Blanco.” As McDougall embarks on a training regimen that mimics the lifestyle and running technique of the Tarahumara, he helps Caballo Blanco cajole a group of elite North American ultrarunners to descend upon the Copper Canyon for a 50-mile race with the Tarahumara. McDougall does an equally good job capturing the eccentric personalities of elite mega-runners as he does conveying the hilarious and poignant culture clashes between the Tarahumara and the Americans. His narrative thread bobs and weaves while he also digs deep into theories about the evils of running shoes and the evolutionary basis for human running talent. In the end, you’ll be left wondering if maybe ultrarunning isn’t so elite after all…maybe we were born to run.
Rory Stewart’s memoir of his walk across Afghanistan is a near-perfect combination of adventure, danger, history, politics and social commentary, all neatly packaged in wry, non-judgmental prose. Stewart (a former infantryman and British diplomat who had already walked across Iran, Pakistan, India, and Nepal) had previously been barred by the Taliban from entering Afghanistan, but saw his opportunity after the tragedy of 9/11 and the subsequent fall of the Taliban government. Stewart traced the steps of Afghanistan’s first Mughal emperor, Babur, walking a straight line from Herat through a chain of snowy mountains to Kabul. Along the way, he encountered bleak poverty, indifference, cruelty, and suffering—the brokenness of a people devastated by decades of war. Yet thanks to time-honored customs of hospitality, Stewart was fed and housed each night by Afghans, some of whom displayed breathtaking reserves of generosity, warmth and humor. He shared his trek with a neglected and abused mastiff dog unloaded upon him by one of his hosts, and “Babur” added unforeseen challenges to the journey even as he provided companionship for Stewart. While the adventure itself is riveting, Stewart’s understanding of the tribal and cultural history of Afghanistan gives his story depth that’s rare for a travel memoir. Read here about Stewart’s Turquoise Mountain Foundation, a nonprofit aimed at reviving Afghanistan’s traditional crafts.
