I'm also losing my appetite for reading about someone's latest diet experiment in which this category or that other category of food is off limits because an author, armed with a study or two—likely to be contradicted in a few years, because that's what always happens with nutritional "science"—has with evangelical fervor made a compelling case to do so. Grains evil? Coffee toxic? Green tea the cure for all your ills? Yawn. Michael Pollan is right: If you're going to avoid anything, avoid the fads. Embrace what you know is good for you. You do know.
I'm trending in the same direction when it comes to reading about training regimens. Mostly I confine myself to Science of Sport-type discussions that try to tease what's real from what's myth.
Instead of gear, diet and how-to-train blogs, I now find myself reading the sites that exhibit and explore a deep connection to running. For example: Anton Krupicka's Riding the Wind. He writes infrequently but compellingly. As here:
Heading down Greenman (the upper section down to Saddle Rock is excellent for descending right now with an almost perfect amount of snowpack) I encountered no knee pain but was treated to a most excellent night-time view of the city as the clouds lifted virtually right before my eyes. This was the view I'd been waiting for all day and it sparked a stretch of that kind of running that only comes along every once in a while. Every footstep is perfectly placed without trying, the growing darkness adds a sense of increased effortlessness and speed, and the steep drops and rocks and roots all provide giddy moments of acrobatic proficiency instead of the more typical tired and awkward navigation. I'd forgotten how much fun it can be to run trails at dusk.
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