Eat and Run: My Unlikely Journey to Ultramarathon Greatness

by Scott Jurek

Not even ten years earlier, I had been trudging snowmobile trails, dreaming big and spending big. I had planned on running hard, counted on winning. What I hadn’t anticipated were sponsorships with Brooks, Pro-Tec, and Clif Bar, delivering presentations, and attending trade shows in between races. But, as I had discovered, those were flags on the path of ultrarunning, markers on the path Hippie Dan had urged me to find. Or were they warning signs? I didn’t know.

My stomach felt better. I started to run. Dusty started to run. I picked up speed. So did the Dust Ball. “Rhythm and form, Jurker. Rhythm and form. C’mon, stretch it out! C’mon, you want to fucking be somebody? Let’s do this!”

When it was done, I sat in the pine needles, and I thought about my mother, who would never walk, and my father, who had never seen me run. I thought of the coaches who had helped me, the runners and writers who had inspired me. I thought of my wife and my best friend, who even though they seldom spoke to each other anymore had both supported me.

No one wants to win more than I do. What I’ve learned in ultras, though, is that where I finish is merely an outcome—even though I reach for it with every sinew and tendon and muscle of my being. What matters more than victory is what I do to reach it and how. Have I prepared? Am I focused? Have I have been treating my body with attentiveness, eating healthfully and with care? Have I been training properly? Have I pushed myself as far, and as hard, as possible? Those are the types of questions that have guided me in my career and that can guide anyone who seeks something (which is to say, everyone). You want to get the promotion at work, or the girl, or the guy, or the personal best in the 5K race, of course. But whether you get what you want isn’t what defines you. It’s how you go about your business.

We focus on something external to motivate us, but we need to remember that it’s the process of reaching for that prize—not the prize itself—that can bring us peace and joy.

Slacklining is a discipline that requires extreme focus, yet your body has to remain fluid and relaxed.

Sometimes the best journeys aren’t necessarily from east to west, or from ground to summit, but from heart to head. Between them we find our voice. —JEREMY COLLINS