Fresh baked bread with simple and complex carbs,
healthy fats and protein. And it tastes good.

If I have the right kind of home-baked bread I really don’t need anything else for my breakfast or lunch. By supper I’m ready for something to go with it, but if the recipe is right bread gives me everything I need. Reading about what the Tarahumara eat (and wanting to be able to do the things they do) made me reconsider my bread recipe. I’ve added some of the things the Roman Legion fed their troops, and I’m still tweaking the system. So far it’s the best bread I’ve ever eaten.

The basic recipe came off the back of a bag of Gold Medal Whole Wheat flour, and it’s called Honey-Whole Wheat Bread. I’ve changed it either a little or a lot every time I make it, but mostly by adding things and not by changing the basic plan.

The original parts I kept are as follows:

4 1/2 cups whole wheat flour
3 cups all purpose flour
3 tsp salt

2 1/2 cups warm water
1/4 cup warm water
4 1/2 tsp dry yeast

Instead of 1/4 cup butter I’ve substituted 1/4 cup spreadable vegetable margarine;
I use 1/4 cup honey mixed with either 1/4 cup dark molasses or 1/4 cup sorghum for a total of 1/2 cup, while the original recipe calls for 1/2 cup honey.

I’ve added whole grains of different types, depending on what I have on hand. I’m always using 1/4 cup of flax seed and will probably increase that amount later in the summer. I also added 1/4 cup of amaranth and 1/4 cup of teff this last time, but soy flour and sesame seeds came out pretty good, too.

The dough after the first rise.

Lately I’ve had really good results with my bread but it hasn’t always been like that. Instead of believing what I see on the yeast package I now start the yeast in warm water and honey, as this recipe recommends. Actually I’m mixing the honey and other sweetener with the margarine and the full amount of warm water, not the 1/4 cup the recipe recommends. Seems to work pretty well so I’m staying with that method.

I mix the dry ingredients together with a wire whisk, and I’m not a fancy baker so I add the liquid yeast mixture all at once and work it in by squeezing. When the dough is fairly uniform I adjust by adding a little water or a little flour and turn the dough out on the counter for kneading. After kneading until it forms a nice glutinous dough I shape it into a ball and rub a little cooking oil on it, then put it back in a covered bowl in a warm place and let it double in size.

The second rise and success nears.

This recipe makes quite a lot of bread, so I’ve been using pizza pans covered with aluminum foil. I divide the dough in two equal pieces, shape it again, and let it rise at least double on the pans. Then it goes into the oven at 375 degrees F. for 30 minutes. At 15 minutes I open the oven up and switch the top loaf to the bottom shelf and the bottom loaf to the top shelf, otherwise the top loaf will get too brown. At 30 minutes the temperature has to be reset to 350 degrees F., and the loaves bake for another 10 minutes. The crust should be hard enough that it resists a good thump.

The Romans received a daily ration of 1 1/2 kg of wheat and rye when times were good, according to what I’ve read lately. Some historians say it was less, only about two pounds. That’s still quite a lot of grain to eat in a day. The magic ingredient in Roman rations seems to be flaxseed, which is very high in beneficial fats just like the chia seed the Tarahumara eat. This bread probably has more fat and sugar in it than the old Roman rations.

Next recipe I’m substituting 1/2 cup of coconut milk for the 1/4 cup of margarine, which should come out to about the same fat content. Eventually I’ll come up with a "Roman bread" that’s sub-standard, but I sure haven’t yet. This bread is a meal by itself, just the way I like it.

Over the last few days I've watched what happened in Japan during the earthquake, tsunami, and the nuclear aftermath that still unfolds. I don't want to minimize anything that happened there, and I have nothing but respect for the people who lived through that, died in that, or are at present trying to desperately deal with that. But, it reminded me of why I do what I do. I run.

Running is basic. It's affirmation of life, the only thing we can actually do to save ourselves in basic situations. Life isn't about martial arts and being able to mysteriously defeat forces beyond our ability to control. Life is about getting out of the way. That's a very humble thing, and something many people today disregard completely. When it comes down to basics, life isn't numbers stored in a bank account or the social credibility of what job you happen to perform. Life is just how fast you run.

I don't laugh at the Japanese people who didn't run fast enough. I've never cared more. I watch the videos of people lost and I cry. I see people on the brink of death and still trying and I cheer. This is a look at all of us, not just a glimpse of Japan in hard times. It could happen in some way, anywhere, to anyone. When I see those videos, I say, Run! Run! and even if I've seen those videos before I still mean it and I still care.

I saw many heartbreaking videos of what happened in Japan and sadly, I will see many more, since the crisis continues to unfold. What impressed me the most was a short clip of what happened when the tsunami hit a northern town.

People there had warning, but not all responded to the warning. Some people lived on higher areas of the valley and since the town was protected by seawalls they didn't think there was any need to leave their home and run up the hill. When the tsunami waves breached the seawall, that suddenly changed. The valley slopes funneled the waves higher, and even the upper areas of the town were inundated.

The people living there had seconds to respond. Some didn't, and some couldn't. I'm old enough that I know how age limits response to many things. I don't fault older people for sitting and waiting. The older you get, the more sense that makes. Some people found themselves on the edge of life and death, and I saw what a few of them did. They ran.

In this particular town, the people who lived on high ground had enough time to reconsider. When the waves came, and kept coming, they ran. I watched two women from one small neighborhood try to save themselves -- not saving family, not saving countries, but just trying to stay alive. One woman had a straight course across fields, to the high ground and safety; her neighbor had to cross a fence. One woman lived, and the other woman died.

I know what some of that feels like, because I run. If you just follow the "program," you get a little tired and a little sore and you hurt for awhile. If you really run, you know how it feels to be out of air. You burn. Legs don't work any more, your heart tries to burst out of your chest, and what you really want to do is stop and puke out your guts. People who push the limits know what that feels like. There's a point you simply can't cross, no matter what the incentive might be. It all stops, because you did reach your limits.

The people I watched who tried to outrun the tsunami pushed those limits. They were not Olympic runners, just normal people who did their best. In one video I saw, one woman lived and another woman died. Both of them tried their best and no one lost. They both deserve Olympic gold medals no matter what their time was.

That's what running is about, in the final balance. It's not about how much weight you lose or how low your resting heart rate might be. It's about life and death. By running we find our limits, and sometimes we find a way past them.

After a few days on the trail, sled dogs burn nearly
100 percent fat fuel. Could people train to do this?
See "Fat Burning Secrets..." from the Smithsonian.
Photo credit: cliftonmullins from morguefile.com

A few decades ago when runners talked about "hitting the wall" it was just one of those things you expected on a long run. After about 15 miles you'd suddenly feel like crap and be so weak you'd think you were unable to continue, but then you'd dig way down if you were brave enough and find renewed strength by sheer force of will, and you'd keep going.

All that talk about reaching deep for the buried strength within you and mentally being strong enough to continue on will alone seems now to be mostly egotistical talk. When muscles reach a specific level of exhaustion the autonomic nervous system shuts them down so energy stores won't completely be used up. Will has nothing to do with that, it's biological self-preservation. If you push yourself to your limits you'll find that point. One second you'll be plugging along full of determination and the next second your body tells you, no, you won't, and you stop. After a few minutes of rest you keep going.

People in higher levels of fitness reach their limits less often, and everyone's energy cutoff point is different, but it happens to all. When you run long enough to burn up your blood sugar and muscle glycogen, you "hit the wall." Suddenly you can't put one foot reliably in front of the other or run a straight course, and then as your metabolism shifts to fat reserves you gain renewed strength and recover. If you're an egotistical person taught to believe in mind over matter, you realize you've conquered a physical weakness by an effort of will. Actually your liver just kicked in and took a moment to start processing fat.

The fuel system of the body is actually much more complicated than that simplified version, but that's enough to understand what's happening in a practical way. Exhaustion at the limits of ability is set at a cellular level. Mitochondria in cells enable us to use fat, the body most efficient fuel, and our ability to do that depends on the numbers of mitochondria in our cells. That population of tiny furnaces increases if we frequently engage in long-duration physical labor, whether it's farm work or distance running. The more mitochondria you build, the better you are at burning fat. For someone in a lower level of fitness, a food that replaces blood sugar could make the best sense; since over the short term, with a lower mitochondrial count, the body prefers to burn sugar. As conditioning improves, the best fuel choice changes to a mixture of sugars and fats.

Dr. Eric Heiden, Olympic gold medalist and orthopedic surgeon, says that a mixture of glucose and fat feeds the fires of highly conditioned athletes, and you can see that reflected in the traditional tonic foods of ancient travelers. Pemmican, the food of choice when Native Americans set out on long treks, blends dried berries with rendered animal fat -- a source of carbohydrates and fat and very little else. The Tarahumara charge up with complex carbohydrates like potato soup and corn beer, but the trail tonic they drink along the way is a mixture of chia seeds, citrus juice, and sugar -- again, carbs and fats, since chia contains a high percentage of healthy oils, similar to those found in salmon.

Chia also replaces some important minerals which the body loses through perspiration, provides protein, and contains important vitamins. Chia tonics seem like a better idea for the long run than fat with dried blueberries, but pemmican represented only part of the traditional food plan here in northern America. Travelers grazed fresh vegetables and fruits along the way, eating plants most of us would skip today.

From Europe comes another story of a traditional powerhouse food for the long-distance foot traveler -- flaxseed. The nutritional content of flax closely resembles that of chia and even exceeds it in some mineral levels and in total fat content, yielding the same healthy oils as chia. The Roman Legion, according to many historians, fed their troops bread made from wheat, rye, and flaxseed. Roman soldiers were well known for their endurance and their strength in combat, able to march long distances without exhaustion. A normal day's ration included 1.5 kilograms of whole grains including the secret ingredient, flaxseed.

Another important benefit of both chia and flaxseed is that these tonic foods counter inflammation problems -- that reduces pain and helps runners keep going.

Today most of us avoid fat in order to keep body weight down, but during heavy exertion fat doesn't go through the storage cycle. Cells use fat in the bloodstream along with blood sugar, saving the body the extra steps of storage and retrieval.

Having learned all this fairly recently from researching several fitness articles for a paying client, I find it interesting to compare my own traveling diet to what traditionalists and sports professionals recommend. I've been a hiker and runner for decades, actually quite a few decades, and I've spent my work time primarily in labor-intensive occupations. I've learned to eat what keeps me going, and if a meal's fuel doesn't last past 9 a.m. I'm not happy with it. I don't eat breakfast at Shoney's if I have work to do.

My typical breakfast is a whole grain with fruit when I'm backpacking a difficult trail. For convenience I usually eat instant brown rice -- the secret fuel of the samurai with a modern twist -- and raisins. That's a healthy mixture of long-lasting complex carbohydrates and fast-acting fruit sugar. On the trail I don't get extremely hungry during the day, but I do fuel up along the way with a Tiger's Milk bar when I feel the need -- complex carbohydrates, sugar in a reasonable amount, minerals and vitamins, protein and fat. Supper is usually instant potatoes with Parkay margarine, a bouillon cube and a vitamin pill, as well as some dried meat or fish. During the day I graze wild food along the way. It doesn't sound like much but it makes me feel good. When I'm on the trail I'm just not hungry for anything else. Traveling food is fuel, not entertainment. My trail diet matches up very well to what ancient travelers discovered worked the best for them.

As a runner I've had more trouble, depending on modern professionals for advice and drinking energy drinks or power gels to keep charged on the runs. I don't find that such things work well for me. They give me a short burst of renewed energy and then I'm back to being really tired. This year I'm going to apply the traditional foods to my long runs and see if I find an improvement.

I also rebuilt my huaraches, using some tips from the Tarahumara, who build their running sandals out of old car tires. See my post about Shoe Goo on The Marked Tree for construction details using lighter materials. That works like a charm.

Advanced Yang Style
Tai Chi Chuan:
Tai Chi Theory and
Tai Chi Jing

It's easy to set aside much of what the Tarahumara Indians do and file it away as some genetic quirk or simply exaggeration, but to me it looks real and possible for the rest of us, too. I wouldn't call it magical even though I know running can be a truly spiritual experience, pushing people into new areas of perception as well as pushing the boundaries of physical experience. To me what the Tarahumara do seems based on something that's possible for the rest of us to acquire, and I remember a couple of times in my life when possibly I did reach that level of fitness. I lacked something else that the Tarahumara don't even have to think about -- technique.

In Tai Chi Chuan one of the basic concepts is that in the ancient days, people did things differently on a basic level. People breathed differently and people walked differently. People performed mechanical work using a different set of physical principles than we do today. Tai Chi enthusiasts learn the ancient set and then try to apply that to daily life as well as self defense. Tarahumara running resembles some very basic things I learned in Tai Chi and then set aside. Now I'm seeing how those principles fit . Maybe for once something odd that I've learned will turn out to be really useful.

This year what I'm noticing most about my own running is that in spite of the barefoot training I've fallen back into bad old habits in terms of foot posture. As my feet got tougher my running reverted to the heel-first style again, and that mostly worked out ok. The problem showed up when I did longer runs. The heel-first strides put more stress on my hips and I was back to the problems I started with, sciatic pain that at its worst made my legs go numb and inoperative temporarily.

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Born to Run: A Hidden
Tribe, Superathletes,
and the Greatest Race
the World Has Never Seen

I finished reading "Born to Run" by Christopher McDougall last week, and even though I enjoyed the book I found it disappointing in technical terms. There's a lot of good talk about running but not enough real explanation of how the Tarahumara style works. Worst tragedy of all, there's no recipe for tesquino, the corn beer that Tarahumara runners stoke themselves with the night before a big race. How can you write about the Tarahumara and not include a recipe for tesquino? Fortunately I've experimented with enough home brew that I can figure it out for myself.

From having sorted through the book for useful bits of info and from having watched as many videos as I could find of genuine Tarahumara runners actually running, I do have a theory which is probably as good as anybody's theory. The same rules of physics apply to these people as to the rest of us, and that means the 40,000 calories people burn on an ultramarathon doesn't come out of thin air. Some runners carry dried corn, and there's a chia-based tonic they drink along the way as well. Just as people there aren't likely to ask for food and water -- because it's impolite -- people aren't likely to not offer something if they see you're in need of it. Several stories in the book deal with that local brand of generosity.

We can assume that people aren't running these long distances without food or water. On races here in the States where impolite Americans didn't offer the Tarahumara food and drink, they didn't take any, and they didn't do all that well in those races. Properly fueled they did just fine on others. But, they're not eating 40,000 calories during a race, and they don't have a lot of body fat to burn. So again the question is, how the heck do they do this?

The Gods Must Be
Crazy -- on DVD

The answer must be in efficiency, not in calories. The Tarahumara run barefoot-style, on the balls of the feet and the toes instead of on the flat of the foot or heels. That puts a more efficient set of leg muscles into operation and reduces impact stress -- something I've noticed from running training distances for several years in a bastard style of Tarahumara form, and something I'm seeing more now that I've actually watched them run. I was doing it all wrong, and even then I saw major improvements. Maybe I'll see another big jump soon.

A couple of things struck me as useful, from descriptions of the runners in the book. They run quietly, people speak of them as gliding, making so little noise that during night finishes observers nearly missed them running past. That's really low impact running, without skids or twists, and something to strive for. I can't do that yet.

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