Córrer és "ara dreta, ara esquerra", oi? Ho hem fet durant 2 milions d'anys, i potser és un pèl agosarat pensar que hi tinc res a dir, que altres no hagin dit abans. El millor de córrer, per experiència, és que hi passen coses estranyes sovint. Un exemple: Fa mesos, a la Marató de Nova York, us asseguro que hi hauríeu vist una cosa absolutament mai vista. Una dona etíop, la Derartu Tulu, es presenta a la línia de sortida. Té 37 anys, i en fa 8 que no ha guanyat cap marató. Uns mesos abans gairebé va morir en donar a llum. La Derartu Tulu era a punt de retirar-se, però va decidir apostar fort per embutxacar-se una bona picossada a la prova més important, la Marató de Nova York. Ves per on, la Derarta Tulu no era l'única. També hi era la campiona olímpica, i la Paula Radcliffe, una fera, la maratoniana més ràpida de la història. A 10 minuts del rècord mundial masculí. La Paula Radcliffe és invencible. És la seva prova.
Running: it's basically just right, left, right, left, yeah? I mean, we've been doing it for two million years, so it's kind of arrogant to assume that I've got something to say that hasn't been said and performed better a long time ago. But the cool thing about running, as I've discovered, is that something bizarre happens in this activity all the time. Case in point: A couple months ago, if you saw the New York City Marathon, I guarantee you, you saw something that no one has ever seen before. An Ethiopian woman named Derartu Tulu turns up at the starting line. She's 37 years old. She hasn't won a marathon of any kind in eight years, and a few months previously, she had almost died in childbirth. Derartu Tulu was ready to hang it up and retire from the sport, but she decided she'd go for broke and try for one last big payday in the marquee event, the New York City Marathon. Except -- bad news for Derartu Tulu -- some other people had the same idea, including the Olympic gold medalist, and Paula Radcliffe, who is a monster, the fastest woman marathoner in history by far. Only 10 minutes off the men's world record, Paula Radcliffe is essentially unbeatable. That's her competition.
En començar, la Derartu no és ni entre les aspirants, ella en va al darrere. Però l'aspirant a aspirant resisteix. I al km 35 d'una cursa de 42, la Derartu Tulu és allà, amb el grup capdavanter. Llavors passa una cosa ben estranya. La Paula Radcliffe, que ben segur que li prendrà el premi a l'aspirant Derartu Tulu, de sobte, s'agafa la cama i es va quedant enrere. Tots sabem què cal fer, oi? Clavar-li un cop de colze i sortir disparats cap a la meta. Però la Derartu Tulu se salta el guió. En lloc d'accelerar, espera la Paula Radcliffe, i l'anima: "Vinga. Vine. Tu pots". La Paula Radcliffe, per desgràcia, se'n surt. Connecta amb les líders i corre cap a la meta. Però, llavors es torna a quedar. La Derartu l'agafa i li marca el pas. La Paula Radcliffe li diu: "No puc. Vés-te'n." Quina gran història, tots en sabem el final. Ella perd el premi, però se'n torna amb una cosa més important. Llavors, la Derartu Tulu es torna a saltar el guió. En lloc de perdre, avança les líders com una fletxa i guanya la Marató de Nova York, i se'n torna a casa amb el xec.
The gun goes off, and -- I mean, she's not even an underdog; she's, like, under the underdogs. But the under-underdog hangs tough, and 22 miles into a 26-mile race, there is Derartu Tulu, up there with the lead pack. Now, this is when something really bizarre happens. Paula Radcliffe, the one person who is sure to snatch the big paycheck from Derartu Tulu's under-underdog hands, suddenly grabs her leg and starts to fall back. So we all know what to do in this situation, right? You give her a quick crack in the teeth with your elbow and blaze for the finish line. Derartu Tulu ruins the script. Instead of taking off, she falls back and she grabs Paula Radcliffe, and says, "Come on. Come with us. You can do it." So Paula Radcliffe, unfortunately, does it. She catches up with the lead pack and is pushing toward the finish line. But then she falls back again. The second time, Derartu Tulu grabs her and tries to pull her. And Paula Radcliffe, at that point, says, "I'm done. Go." So that's a fantastic story, and we all know how it ends. She loses the check, but she goes home with something bigger and more important. Except Derartu Tulu ruins the script again. Instead of losing, she blazes past the lead pack and wins. Wins the New York City Marathon, goes home with a big fat check.
És una història encoratjadora, però si us hi fixeu bé, el que va passar us hauria de sorprendre. Dos valors atípics en un organisme, no és casualitat. Que fos més competitiva i més compassiva que les altres de la cursa, tampoc ho és. Si un animal és palmípede i té brànquies, l'aigua hi té a veure.
It's a heartwarming story, but if you drill a little bit deeper, you've got to sort of wonder about what exactly was going on there. When you have two outliers in one organism, it's not a coincidence. When you have someone who is more competitive and more compassionate than anybody else in the race, again, it's not a coincidence. You show me a creature with webbed feet and gills; somehow water's involved.
Algú amb aquest cor... Hi ha d'haver una connexió. I la resposta, crec que es troba a les Barrancas del Cobre, a Mèxic, on viu una tribu solitària, els indis tarahumares. Els tarahumares destaquen per tres coses. La primera és que han estat vivint igual en els darrers 400 anys. Els conqueridors d'Amèrica deixaven dues opcions: plantar-los cara i lluitar o fugir. Els maies i els asteques hi van lluitar, per això en queden ben pocs. Els tarahumares tenien una altra estratègia. Van fugir i es van amagar en una xarxa laberíntica, una teranyina de canyons anomenada Barrancas del Cobre, i s'hi van quedar cap al 1600, i viuen gairebé igual des de llavors. El segon tret destacable és que a edats avançades, 70, 80 anys, aquests paios no fan maratons, corren megamaratons. No corren 42 km, en fan 160 o 250 d'una tirada, i sense lesions ni problemes.
Someone with that kind of heart, there's some kind of connection there. And the answer to it, I think, can be found down in the Copper Canyons of Mexico, where there's a reclusive tribe, called the Tarahumara Indians. Now, the Tarahumara are remarkable for three things. Number one is: they have been living essentially unchanged for the past 400 years. When the conquistadors arrived in North America you had two choices: you either fight back and engage or you could take off. The Mayans and Aztecs engaged, which is why there are very few Mayans and Aztecs. The Tarahumara had a different strategy. They took off and hid in this labyrinthine, networking, spider-webbing system of canyons called the Copper Canyons. And there they've remained since the 1600s, essentially the same way they've always been. The second thing remarkable about the Tarahumara is: deep into old age -- 70 to 80 years old -- these guys aren't running marathons; they're running mega-marathons. They're not doing 26 miles, they're doing 100, 150 miles at a time, and apparently without injury, without problems.
El seu darrer tret destacable és que dels problemes actuals, tot allò que intentem solucionar fent ús de la tecnologia i del nostre cervell: malalties cardiovasculars, càncer, el crim, la guerra, la violència i les depressions... Els tarahumares no n'han sentit mai a parlar. Estan alliberats de les malalties modernes. I doncs, quina és la connexió? Un cop més, els valors atípics.
The last thing that's remarkable about the Tarahumara is: all the things we're going to be talking about today, all the things we're trying to use all of our technology and brain power to solve -- things like heart disease and cholesterol and cancer; crime, warfare and violence; clinical depression -- all this stuff -- the Tarahumara don't know what you're talking about. They are free from all of these modern ailments. So what's the connection? Again, we're talking about outliers;
Hi ha d'haver algun tipus de causa-efecte. Hi ha equips de científics a Harvard i a la Universitat de Utah trencant-se el cap per esbrinar el que els tarahumares sempre han sabut. Intenten resoldre els mateixos misteris. Un misteri, embolicat en un altre misteri... Potser la clau per a la Derartu Tulu i els tarahumares està amagada en tres misteris més. Tres coses. Si ho sabeu, agafeu el micro, perquè ningú en sap la resposta. I si ho sabeu, sereu els més llestos del món. Misteri número u: Fa 2 milions d'anys, el cervell va créixer de cop. L'Australopitecus el tenia com un cigró. Llavors, apareixen els humans, l'Homo erectus, amb un cap com un meló. Per a un cervell tan gran, cal una font de calories concentrada. És a dir, els primitius menjaven animals morts, no n'hi ha dubte, és evident. L'únic problema és que les primeres armes tenen 200.000 d'anys.
there's got to be some kind of cause and effect. Well, there are teams of scientists at Harvard and the University of Utah that are bending their brains and trying to figure out what the Tarahumara have known forever. They're trying to solve those same kinds of mysteries. And once again, a mystery wrapped inside of a mystery -- perhaps the key to Derartu Tulu and the Tarahumara is wrapped in three other mysteries, which go like this: Three things -- if you have the answer, come up and take the microphone, because nobody else knows the answer. If you know it, you're smarter than anybody on planet Earth. Mystery number one is this: Two million years ago, the human brain exploded in size. Australopithecus had a tiny little pea brain. Suddenly humans show up, Homo erectus, big old melon head. To have a brain of that size, you need to have a source of condensed caloric energy. In other words, early humans are eating dead animals -- no argument, that's a fact. The only problem is, the first edged weapons only appeared about 200,000 years ago.
Així que durant 2 milions d'anys, vam matar animals sense armes. No era gràcies a la força perquè som els més figa de la selva. Qualsevol altre animal és més fort. Tenen ullals i urpes, són àgils i ràpids. Que l'Usain Bolt és ràpid? Un esquirol l'apallissaria. No som ràpids. Podria ser prova olímpica: persecució d'esquirol. Si algú l'agafa, guanya l'or. Sense armes, velocitat, força ni ullals.
So somehow, for nearly two million years, we are killing animals without any weapons. Now, we're not using our strength, because we are the biggest sissies in the jungle. Every other animal is stronger than we are, they have fangs, they have claws, they have nimbleness, they have speed. We think Usain Bolt is fast. Usain Bolt can get his ass kicked by a squirrel. We're not fast. That would be an Olympic event: turn a squirrel loose, whoever catches it gets a gold medal.
Com els mataven? Misteri número u.
(Laughter) So no weapons, no speed, no strength, no fangs, no claws.
Misteri número dos:
How were we killing these animals? Mystery number one.
Fa temps que les dones participen als Jocs, però hi ha un tret comú a totes les esprinters: fan pena, són terribles. No hi ha cap dona ràpida al món, i no n'hi ha hagut mai cap. La dona més ràpida va fer els 1500 en 4:15. A qualsevol institut trobes marrecs que corren per sota de 4:15. No sé per què, les ties sou molt lentes. (Rialles) Tornem a la marató de què parlàvem, només fa 20 anys que podeu fer maratons. Perquè, abans dels anys 80, la medicina deia que si una dona corria 42 km... Sabeu què podia passar si corríeu 42 km? Per què us van prohibir participar-hi abans de 1980? (Públic: Tindria un esquinçament d'úter)
Mystery number two: Women have been in the Olympics for quite some time now, but one thing that's remarkable about all women sprinters: they all suck; they're terrible. There's not a fast woman on the planet and there never has been. The fastest woman to ever run a mile did it in 4:15. I could throw a rock and hit a high-school boy who can run faster than 4:15. For some reason, you guys are just really slow. But -- (Laughter) But, you get to the marathon we were just talking about -- you've only been allowed to run the marathon for 20 years, because prior to the 1980s, medical science said if a woman tried to run 26 miles -- does anyone know what would happen if you tried to run 26 miles? Why you were banned from the marathon before the 1980s?
Esquinçament dels òrgans reproductius. L'úter cauria literalment del cos. He corregut moltes maratons,
Audience Member: Her uterus would be torn. Christopher McDougall: Her uterus would be torn, yes. Torn reproductive organs. The uterus would literally fall out of the body.
i encara és hora que ho vegi. (Rialles) Així que, només fa 20 anys que en poden córrer.
(Laughter) Now, I've been to a lot of marathons, and I've yet to see any ... (Laughter)
En tan poc temps, heu passat d'òrgans esquinçats, a ser tan sols a 10 minuts del rècord del món masculí.
So it's only been 20 years that women have been allowed to run the marathon. In that very short learning curve, you've gone from broken organs up to the fact that you're only 10 minutes off the male world record.
Si anem més enllà dels 42 km, una distància letal segons la medicina, Filípides va morir en córrer 42 km, per exemple 80 o 160 km, llavors és una altra lliga. Si agafem l'Ann Trason, la Nikki Kimball o la Jenn Shelton, en una cursa de 80 o 160 km contra qualsevol, és una loteria saber qui guanyarà. Us en posaré un exemple. Fa anys, l'Emily Baer es va inscriure a la cursa Hardrock 160. El nom ho diu tot de la cursa. Et donen 48 hores per acabar-la. L'Emily Baer, de 500 corredors, va acabar la vuitena, al top 10, malgrat aturar-se a tots els avituallaments per alletar el seu nadó durant la cursa. En va guanyar 492. Segon misteri: Per què les dones milloren quan les distàncies augmenten?
Then you go beyond 26 miles, into the distance that medical science also told us would be fatal to humans -- remember Pheidippides died when he ran 26 miles -- you get to 50 and 100 miles, and suddenly, it's a different game. You take a runner like Ann Trason or Nikki Kimball or Jenn Shelton, put them in a race of 50 or 100 miles against anybody in the world, and it's a coin toss who's going to win. I'll give you an example. A couple years ago, Emily Baer signed up for a race called the Hardrock 100, which tells you all you need to know about the race. They give you 48 hours to finish this race. Well, Emily Baer -- 500 runners -- she finishes in eighth place, in the top 10, even though she stopped at all the aid stations to breastfeed her baby during the race. (Laughter) And yet, she beat 492 other people. The last mystery:
El tercer misteri: A la Universitat de Utah, van estudiar les marques dels corredors de marató. I van descobrir que si en comences a córrer als 19, cada any ets més ràpid, fins arribar al teu màxim als 27. Després, ja no aguantes, l'edat et passa factura. I llavors ets cada cop més lent, fins que tornes a la velocitat dels 19. Trigues set, vuit anys a fer el cim, per ensorrar-te gradualment, fins que tornes al punt d'inici. Penseu que calen 8 anys per tornar a l'origen? Potser 10? No, en són 45. Els homes i les dones de 60 anys corren tan ràpid com quan en tenien 19. Us repto a trobar altres activitats físiques, el golf no compta, alguna activitat dura, on els veterans ho facin tan bé com quan eren adolescents.
Why is it that women get stronger as distances get longer? The third mystery is this: At the University of Utah, they started tracking finishing times for people running the marathon. What they found is that if you start running the marathon at age 19, you'll get progressively faster, year by year, until you reach your peak at age 27. And then after that, you succumb to the rigors of time. And you'll get slower and slower, until eventually you're back to running the same speed you were at age 19. So about seven, eight years to reach your peak, and then gradually you fall off your peak, until you go back to the starting point. You'd think it might take eight years to go back to the same speed, maybe 10 years -- no, it's 45 years. 64-year-old men and women are running as fast as they were at age 19. Now, I defy you to come up with any other physical activity -- and please don't say golf -- something that's actually hard -- (Laughter) where geriatrics are performing as well as they did as teenagers.
Doncs tenim tres misteris. Hi ha cap peça del trencaclosques que resolgui tota l'equació? Cal anar amb molt de compte, quan algú es basa en la prehistòria per explicar-se, com que és la prehistòria, qualsevol bajanada pot anar a missa. Us vull plantejar això: Amb una peça del trencaclosques, de sobte, tot comença a tenir sentit. Si us pregunteu per què els tarahumares no moren de malalties del cor, per què una pobra etíop, la Derartu Tulu, és alhora la més compassiva i la més competitiva, i per què érem capaços de trobar menjar sense armes, potser és perquè els humans, tot i que ens sentim els amos de l'univers hem evolucionat igual que una gossada de gossos de caça.
So you have these three mysteries. Is there one piece in the puzzle which might wrap all these things up? You've got to be careful anytime someone looks back in prehistory and tries to give you a global answer because, it being prehistory, you can say whatever the hell you want and get away with it. But I'll submit this to you: If you put one piece in the middle of this jigsaw puzzle, suddenly it all starts to form a coherent picture. If you're wondering why the Tarahumara don't fight and don't die of heart disease, why a poor Ethiopian woman named Derartu Tulu can be the most compassionate and yet the most competitive, and why we somehow were able to find food without weapons, perhaps it's because humans, as much as we like to think of ourselves as masters of the universe, actually evolved as nothing more than a pack of hunting dogs.
Potser hem evolucionat com una manada d'animals de caça. L'avantatge que tenim a la natura, no són els ullals, les urpes, ni la velocitat, l'únic que fem genial és suar. Som els millors suant i fent ferum. Millor que cap mamífer, suem de conya. Però l'avantatge d'aquesta incomoditat social és que a l'hora de córrer llargues distàncies quan fa calor, som genials, els millors del món. Un cavall en un dia calorós, després de 8 o 10 km, ha de triar. O respirar, o refrescar-se, però no ho pot fer tot. Nosaltres, sí. I si hem evolucionat com una gossada de caça? I si l'únic avantatge que teníem era que podíem formar un grup, sortir plegats a la sabana africana, triar un antílop i empaitar-lo plegats fins que morís? És tot el que podíem fer, córrer distàncies llargues sota la calor.
Maybe we evolved as a hunting pack animal. Because the one advantage we have in the wilderness -- again, it's not our fangs, our claws or our speed -- the only thing we do really well is sweat. We're really good at being sweaty and smelly. Better than any other mammal on Earth, we can sweat really well. But the advantage of that little bit of social discomfort is the fact that, when it comes to running under hot heat for long distances, we're superb -- the best on the planet. You take a horse on a hot day, and after about five or six miles, that horse has a choice: it's either going to breathe or it's going to cool off. But it ain't doing both. We can. So what if we evolved as hunting pack animals? What if the only natural advantage we had in the world was the fact that we could get together as a group, go out there on that African savanna, pick out an antelope, go out as a pack, and run that thing to death? That's all we could do. We could run really far on a hot day.
Si fos cert, altres coses també ho serien. La clau d'un grup de caça és: "grup". Si aneu sols a empaitar un antílop, ben segur que hi haurà dos cadàvers. Cal treballar en equip. Calen els més veterans, 64, 65 anys, que tenen molta experiència, per saber quin és l'antílop que empaites. El ramat es forma i es desfà constantment. Els rastrejadors experts eren imprescindibles. No podien ser a 15 km. Les dones i els joves hi eren perquè qui aprofita més les proteïnes animals, són les mares recents i els nois en creixement. No és lògic tenir un antílop mort i els que tenen gana a 80 km, han de ser al grup. Calen homes forts de 27 anys, per matar la presa, i els adolescents hi han de ser per aprendre com es fa. El grup ha d'estar unit.
Well, if that's true, a couple other things had to be true as well. The key to being part of a hunting pack is the word "pack." If you go out by yourself and try to chase an antelope, I guarantee there will be two cadavers out in the savanna. You need a pack to pull together. You need to have those 64- and 65-year-olds who have been doing this for a long time to understand which antelope you're trying to catch. The herd explodes and it gathers back again. Those expert trackers have to be part of the pack. They can't be 10 miles behind. You need the women and the adolescents there, because the two times in your life you most benefit from animal protein is when you're a nursing mother and a developing adolescent. It makes no sense to have the antelope over there, dead, and the people who want to eat it 50 miles away. They need to be part of the pack. You need those 27-year-old studs at the peak of their powers ready to drop the kill, and you need those teenagers who are learning the whole thing involved. The pack stays together.
Una altra realitat: el grup no pot ser egoista. No pots emprenyar-te empaitant l'antílop. El grup no pot estar malavingut. Res de:"Jo no empaito el seu antílop" "Ja s'espavilarà tot sol amb l'antílop". El grup s'ha d'empassar l'ego, ha de treballar en equip. El resultat final, si fa no fa, és una cultura força semblant als tarahumares, una tribu que no ha canviat des de l'edat de pedra. És una tesi colpidora, potser els tarahumares fan el que havíem fet més de 2 milions d'anys.
Another thing that has to be true: this pack cannot be materialistic. You can't be hauling all your crap around, trying to chase the antelope. You can't be a pissed-off pack. You can't be bearing grudges, like, "I'm not chasing that guy's antelope. He pissed me off. Let him go chase his own antelope." The pack has got to be able to swallow its ego, be cooperative, and pull together. What you end up with, in other words, is a culture remarkably similar to the Tarahumara, a tribe that has remained unchanged since the Stone Age. It's a really compelling argument that maybe the Tarahumara are doing exactly what all of us had done for two million years,
Que és ara, que ens hem desviat del camí. Veiem el córrer com una cosa estranya, el càstig per menjar pizza ahir a la nit. Però potser no. Potser hem agafat aquest avantatge innat i l'hem fet malbé. Com? Com es fan les coses malbé? Intentant fer-ne diners. Ho emboliquem, ho fem maco i ho venem a tot déu. Llavors vam començar a fer unes joies amb esmorteïment per córrer millor, les sabatilles de córrer.
that it's us in modern times who have sort of gone off the path. You know, we look at running as this kind of alien, foreign thing, this punishment you've got to do because you ate pizza the night before. But maybe it's something different. Maybe we're the ones who have taken this natural advantage we had and we spoiled it. How do we spoil it? Well, how do we spoil anything? We try to cash in on it. Right? We try to can it and package it and make it "better" and then sell it to people. And then what happened was, we started creating these fancy cushioned things which can make running "better," called running shoes.
El que m'emprenya de les sabatilles és que n'he comprat milions i encara em lesiono. Crec que, si algú d'aquí corre... Abans en parlava amb la Carol, hem xerrat dos minuts, de la fascitis plantar. Parleu amb un corredor mig minut, i ja esteu parlant de lesions. Si som éssers corredors i tenim aquest do, Per què som tan negats? Per què em lesiono?
The reason I get personally pissed-off about running shoes is because I bought a million of them and I kept getting hurt. And I think if anybody in here runs -- I just had a conversation with Carol. We talked for two minutes backstage, and she talked about plantar fasciitis. You talk to a runner, I guarantee within 30 seconds, the conversation turns to injury. So if humans evolved as runners, if that's our one natural advantage, then why are we so bad at it?
El curiós de córrer i lesionar-se és que les lesions són de la nostra època. Si llegiu mites i folklore, mites i llegendes de tot tipus, córrer sempre s'associa a la llibertat, a la joventut i al vigor etern. Només en l'actualitat s'associa amb la por i el dolor. Gerónimo deia: "Les cames són les úniques amigues en qui confio". Això és perquè una triatló apatxe eren 80 km de cursa pel desert, combat cos a cos, robar cavalls i cavalcar cap a casa a tota llet. Gerónimo no deia mai: "Ai, el taló... He de descansar una setmana", "He de fer cross training". "No he fet ioga. No estic a punt". Els humans han corregut tota la vida. Som aquí. Amb la tecnologia digital. Els nostres coneixements existeixen perquè els nostres avantpassats eren capaços de fer coses extraordinàries cada dia, confiaven en els peus descalços i les cames per recórrer llargues distàncies.
Why do we keep getting hurt? A curious thing about running and running injuries is that the running injury is new to our time. If you read folklore and mythology, any kind of myths, any kind of tall tales, running is always associated with freedom and vitality and youthfulness and eternal vigor. It's only in our lifetime that running has become associated with fear and pain. Geronimo used to say, "My only friends are my legs. I only trust my legs." That's because an Apache triathlon used to be you'd run 50 miles across the desert, engage in hand-to-hand combat, steal a bunch of horses, and slap leather for home. Geronimo was never saying, "You know something, my Achilles -- I'm tapering. I've got to take this week off." Or, "I need to cross-train. I didn't do yoga. I'm not ready." (Laughter) Humans ran and ran all the time. We are here today. We have our digital technology. All of our science comes from the fact that our ancestors were able to do something extraordinary every day, which was just rely on their naked feet and legs to run long distances.
Com podem tornar-hi? Proposo començar per desfer-se de l'embolcall i el màrqueting. Desfer-se del coi de sabatilles. Prou de maratons urbanes, si les fas en 4 hores, fas pena. Però en 3:59:59 ets boníssim, perquè et classifiques per a la propera. Hem de recuperar el plaer, la diversió, i, també la nuesa que ha convertit els tarahumares en una de les cultures més sanes d'avui dia. I què en traiem? Què? Cremar el gelat d'ahir a la nit?
So how do we get back to that again? Well, I would submit to you the first thing is: get rid of all packaging, all the sales, all the marketing. Get rid of all the stinking running shoes. Stop focusing on urban marathons, which, if you do four hours, you suck, and if you do 3:59:59, you're awesome, because you qualified for another race. We need to get back to that sense of playfulness and joyfulness and, I would say, nakedness, that has made the Tarahumara one of the healthiest and serene cultures in our time. So what's the benefit? So what? So you burn off the Häagen-Dazs from the night before.
Potser té altres beneficis. No em vull fer pesat, imagineu un món on poguessim sortir a fer el tipus d'esport que ens fa estar relaxats i serens, trobar-nos millor, cremar l'estrès... Sense anar a la feina com feres, ni tornar a casa estressats. Potser hi ha un punt mitjà entre com som i com han estat sempre els tarahumares. No cal tornar a les Barrancas del Cobre, a viure de blat de moro, el preferit dels tarahumares però potser hi ha un punt mitjà. I si el trobem, potser algú rebrà el Premi Nobel. Si algú troba la manera de recuperar aquest do innat del qual n'hem gaudit gairebé sempre, fins més o menys els anys 70, els beneficis socials, físics, polítics i mentals, podrien ser increïbles.
But maybe there's another benefit there as well. Without getting too extreme about this, imagine a world where everybody could go out the door and engage in the kind of exercise that's going to make them more relaxed, more serene, more healthy, burn off stress -- where you don't come back into your office a raging maniac anymore, or go home with a lot of stress on top of you again. Maybe there's something between what we are today and what the Tarahumara have always been. I don't say let's go back to the Copper Canyons and live on corn and maize, which is the Tarahumara's preferred diet, but maybe there's somewhere in between. And if we find that thing, maybe there is a big fat Nobel Prize out there. Because if somebody could find a way to restore that natural ability that we all enjoyed for most of our existence up until the 1970s or so, the benefits -- social and physical and political and mental -- could be astounding.
El que hem vist avui és que neix una subcultura d'atletes descalços, que es desfan de les sabatilles. La majoria ha descobert que un cop fora les sabatilles, fora l'estrés, fora lesions i patiments. I descobreixes una cosa que els tarahumares fa temps que saben, que us ho podeu passar de conya. Jo mateix ho he experimentat. Sempre m'he lesionat i als 40, sabatilles fora. Les lesions també han desaparegut.
What I've been seeing today is there is a growing subculture of barefoot runners, people who've gotten rid of their shoes. And what they have found uniformly is, you get rid of the shoes, you get rid of the stress, you get rid of the injuries and the ailments. And what you find is something the Tarahumara have known for a very long time: that this can be a whole lot of fun. I've experienced it personally myself. I was injured all my life; then in my early 40s, I got rid of my shoes and my running ailments have gone away, too.
Espero que tots en puguem sortir guanyant. I us agraeixo que m'hagueu escoltat. Moltes gràcies.
So hopefully it's something we can all benefit from. I appreciate your listening to this story.
(Aplaudiments)
Thanks very much.