Christopher McDougall - parkour, paleo and energetic prose

By David Hill

Other·

29 May, 2015 05:00 PM3 mins to read

Christopher McDougall. Photo / Michael Lionstar

Those of us for whom the Great Outdoors is the walk from front door to car door need to read Christopher McDougall.

He's the Bear Grylls (a name I originally thought referred to a barbecue) of fitness, urging us out of our recliners to learn the mystic resources of our bodies through tracks, trees and mud-runs.

He's been inspired by the World War II band of British poets, archaeologists and professors who kidnapped a German general on Crete, after "catapulting themselves to superhuman strength and fitness".

Such deeds lead McDougall to define heroism as a set of skills to which we can all aspire. You just have to discover the art of natural movement and the potential of your fascia profunda. (No, I'm not telling you.) Getting away from exercise machines and into "hunter-gatherer movements" is also desirable.

Via an eclectic mix of war history, Philosophy 101 and New Age self-discovery, we're offered a range of heroic role models including Patrick Leigh Fermor, a Cretan priest with a Glock in his sock, and the Norwegian commando who cut off nine of his frost-bitten toes. Oh, and Xena, Warrior Princess.

McDougall finds his own path towards such status by parkour, a school of free-running that has him bouncing off the bricks of a British housing project before running an ultra-marathon in Mexico, pounding the beaches in Brazil and skipping across the rocks in Greece.

You'll be unsurprised to learn he's heavily into a paleo diet, as well. In his case, it stars boiled hay, snails, and wild green veges.

Epigrams from Lao-Tzu, The Journal of Psychological Science, sixth century BC Greeks emphasise his seriousness. Euripides and Homer are mentioned. There's a fair bit about "rewilding the psyche", which I'd recommend you skip.

It's endearingly eager and evangelical. McDougall writes springy (of course), energetic (ditto) prose, even if he's prone to such clunkers as, "At dawn, all hell would break loose."

Does it do any good? It certainly keeps the author and his followers off the streets. Actually, they're more likely to be found swinging from trees - literally. In my case, it sent me straight off for a little lie-down.

It wants us to become "more familiar with our bodies and the natural world", and nobody's going to quibble about that.

Take it with a few grains of salt, or even polysaturated fats, and you'll thoroughly enjoy it. Good luck with the boiled hay.