The first time I submerged myself in the reading of Born to run I passed through all the different phases and motivations that bring us to put on our running shoes (or sandals) and go out until sunset, making big strides along the path ahead of us, without any apparent reason and without trying to catch anyone. Just following  man’s oldest instinct: running.

I knew about the existence of the Tarahumaras through Ricardo Mejía, a great Mexican runner who has been on the front line of every skyrunning race in Europe and the United States for more than fifteen years. The first time he talked to me about it I saw his eyes sparkling with emotion as he described how their white cloaks waved in the wind after hundreds of kilometers, on the sand of the border paths. I had never done any race longer than a mountain marathon and that year I was thinking of running an ultratrail for the first time, the UTMB. I went to look for information about this tribe of ultrarunners and about other people who used their feet as means of transportation: the Sherpas in the Himalayas who climb up to 5000 meters with the help of sandals; the Incan people, long since wiped out, who were able to maintain a mail system across thousands of kilometers through different runners taking turns and, often, going faster than current mail services; the African people from Kenyan plateaus, where hundreds of runners meet the daybreak by raising the dust of the long Massai tracks.

All this information on running cultures gave me a certain feeling of suspicion and envy. My first attitude was to think that it was not possible, that these were legends exaggerated with the passing of years. It was not possible that I was preparing for a competition where the press, the organizers and even the most experienced runners who had finished it said that it was something superhuman, almost impossible to do without a specific training plan including resting rules, strict nutrition and wearing the latest in fashion in the discipline’s material. It was even more impossible that there were individuals out there without any of this preparation who were able to bang out an ultrarail day after day without suffering at all. So what did I need all my preparation for?

But at once I understood that my preparation was not that different from theirs. In the end, if you run every day, the muscles, the joints and, more importantly, the mind, all get used to running as they get used to breathing. I discovered this when doing long crossings in the Pyrenees, where running was another of my daily routines. Like breathing or pumping blood, running became an unconscious natural process, leaving my mind and body free to do other things.

The Tarahumaras are, no doubt, a source of inspiration for all of us for whom running is not only our passion, but also a way of life. Through the pages of Born to run I understood better why I could not pass a single day without running. Christopher McDougall delves in a very funny and enjoyable way into the Tarahumaras’ heart, through an adventure he shares with great athletes he has been lucky enough to meet and to share races and training with.

I am sure that once you turn this page you will be submerged in a world which will take you into the souls of these legendary runners, but also inside yourselves, and when you finally close the last page of the book, you will be compelled to put on (or not) your running shoes and go out for a run.

(translated by Xavi Alcalde & revised by Tyler Andrews)