My 100 Mile Adventure in the Cayman Islands

I had the opportunity to run 100 miles in theCayman Islands and to meet some extraordinary people. The experience is one I will treasure for the rest of my life. The man who organized this event, James Murray, and his girlfriend, Lauren, are among the nicest, most gracious people I have ever met. They showed me around their beautiful island, from it's crystal clear blue waters and white-as-snow sand to it's delectable cuisine.

My first impression of Cayman was that it was alive, full of gusto and energy. Cars were honking, the sun was ablaze in the blemishless eternity-blue sky, tourists were going this way and that. The place had a musical pulse, a syncopated rhythm of time and energy where even the most mundane things - a wall, a corner building, the lamp post - came to life in unexpected ways. A splash of color here, movement there. Oh, look an iguana crossing the road! And is that a parrot in the trees? My heart skipped a beat faster just to keep up.

To run in the Cayman Islands was a joy. Even more than that, it was life-changing (that's no exaggeration). But, when you attempt something of this magnitude, the results usually are life-changing. Not that I haven't run 100 miles before. I've stabbed at the distance five times before, and each time has been meaningful, shaping me little by little and helping me grow more and more. But, I've never done anything on this level before. The purpose behind A Crazy Idea - as the project was lovingly called - was to benefit the Cayman Island Diabetes Association.

Diabetes runs in my family. My dad has it. My aunt has it. I am at risk for diabetes. It is sort of the unspoken epidemic in Cayman, and indeed, the United States as well. There is no cure for diabetes, but there is certainly hope for management of it. Through patient education, the appropriate use of medications, and lifestyle alterations, including the incorporation of sensible exercise and a balanced diet, diabetes can be managed effectively. Our goal was to be a part of that education process, to bring diabetes to the public consciousness and get people on the island thinking and talking about their health. No one wants to be told they are eating the wrong foods and that their lack of exercises is killing them. But, these are truths we cannot afford to ignore.

Our message had to be bold. Running 100 miles is pretty bold, I think. And we got the attention of the local media - the newspaper, social media, and radio stations. Dozens of people came out to see us off. It was quite an event! Some people stayed up with us all through the night, pacing us, getting us food and drink and anything else we needed during the run. As for myself, I had a blast. I ran with Steve, a lawyer in Cayman who offered to write a letter of commendation to the dean of my law school. Steve ran by my side in flip flops into the wee hours of the night. A spectacular guy!

I ran with Sarah, a tough and energetic woman who kept me going through the most trying parts of the journey. We sang the entire soundtrack to "Sister Act" before moving on to Disney songs. She would make a strong, strong ultrarunner herself. She has the right stuff. There was also Adam, who came on the scene with a smile and energy that proved infectious. He ran by my side through the night and I felt good just having him with me.

Not once did I feel any negative energy out there. All good vibes, baby! People were cheering along the route. Cars were honking. It was a big party! When the run did get tough - and it did get tough - I was able to look to my companions for strength. At certain points in the run, the heat got to me. Temperatures reached into the 100s and the humidity was near 80%. But, the overall experience was never unpleasant. Even though I was having a hard time, I thought about all the people that were counting on me. I thought about James, who was just ahead of me, fighting his own battle. I continued on.

The final miles were a frenzied blur of excitement. It seemed as if the whole community had come out to see us finish. The cheering carried me through to the finish line, despite my aching legs. I hugged James and my entire crew. It was an awesome feeling. I can't help but feel that we made a real difference out there, that we inspired people to take up their own physical challenge. If we inspired just one person to come up with their own "crazy idea" then it was all worth it. After wards, person after person came up to tell me thank you and that they felt if we could run 100 miles, they could at least do a few themselves.

Inventor helps long distance runners g-ear up!

Sometimes, when you are logging in those long miles, it helps to have some tunes to groove to. When you are as avid a runner as Terry Madl, you know how important choosing the right headphones can be. "Every time I wore earbuds, they kept slipping out of my ears when I ran," recalls Madl. No matter which brand he tried, Madl could not find headphones that worked for him. None of the products on the market were very runner friendly. Thus, G-ear was born.

The device is quite simple, a cross between a bandanna and a pair of headphones. The silky-soft, moisture-wicking, antimicrobial fabric adjusts to fit around your head and then ties snugly in at the back. On either side are two slots to fit in the custom-built flat headphones that fit comfortably over your ears. The wire from the headphones goes through the fabric so it does not get in the way when you are running.

Simple. And it works. Many runners find traditional earbuds too invasive to be comfortable, and wraparounds are not everybody's cup of tea, so they turn to more complicated systems. Usually, these elaborate designs compromise sound quality or they cost an arm and a leg. Sony MDR-Q23LPPS w.ear headphones are the perfect example of such a complex system. The cushioned clip-ons are comfortable enough, but the sound is one-dimensional and the cushions get sweaty during workouts.

The G-ear system not only feels good around your head, it also sounds good. The dynamic audio is crisp and clear. The headband, if not fashionable (it actually is quite fashionable and it comes in three distinct styles: jam, a continuous headband look, flō, a headband style that ties, and hȳp, a bandanna style that ties in the back) is completely functional. It wicks sweat and cools the head on hot days. If you don't get to washing the fabric after a couple of runs, the antimicrobial fabric will prevent germs and harmful bacteria from forming.

Madl is a 57 year old ultramarathoner whose list of accomplishments include finishing the infamous Badwater race through Death Valley and completing the Marathon des Sables in the Moroccan Sahara. If anyone knows what it takes to endure those seemingly endless workouts, it's him. “There are times when I choose to immerse myself in the environment when I am running, but there are also times when I absolutely need music. During races, I always bring music or books with me.”

With research and planning of his product ongoing, Madl is optimistic about the future of G-ear. If you would like more information about how you can purchase this product, feel free to contact Terry Madl at terry@getintog-ear.com.

Running with the Buffaloes 100 Race Report

When Walt Whitman wrote of the public road that "I am not afraid to leave you, yet I love you, you express me better than I can express myself," he pretty much summed up my feelings about this race. The inaugural Running with the Buffaloes 100 Mile Run took place on Saturday, October 16, 2011, and as with all of my big races, I have fond memories of every step, yet in the end, I was glad to be done with the whole damn thing.

The race embodied what I love most about ultras: that low-key atmosphere of casual athleticism. No one here is a braggart. No one here is prideful. The feel in the air is chill. Attending one of these events, as opposed to, say, a big city marathon, is the difference between nestling in at your friendly neighborhood coffee joint and going to a Starbucks.

There were twelve of us doing the 100 miler. We met in West Yellowstone, the start of the race. The little town of hotels, gift shops, and restaurants sits at the entrance of America's premier National Park. All the runners stayed at the Gray Wolf Inn. After checking in and unloading our bags, we all went to Wild West Pizzaria for a hot meal. Some familiar faces sat around the table that night - like Pam Reed, the petite-sized female endurance warrior whose record-setting accomplishments have paved the way for other runners around the world. There was George Velasco, the seasoned ultra veteran who refuses to let the limitations of age, and even injury, come between him and his goals. There was also Bill McCarty, a man celebrating his 64th birthday by running 100 miles, proving that you are only as old as you choose to be. We lit a candle on a cake and sang "Happy Birthday" to him, then, we headed for bed.

Running with the Buffaloes was different from every ultra I've done. For one, it was all on the road (but, to call this a road race is somewhat misleading. Along every stretch, is a shoulder of soft gravel and dirt that mimics a trail). Secondly, there were no aid stations. We were crewed for the entire 100 by race directors Lisa Smith-Batchen and Dave Carder out of vans. They had everything from baby wipes to Red Bull to cheese sticks, candy, and boiled potatoes.

If you've ever crewed for an ultra, you know the hard work that goes into it. In some ways, crewing is harder than running. When you run, you at least get to zone out and concentrate on putting one foot in front of the other. With crewing, not only do you have to stay up for as long as the runner, but you also have to remain mentally alert throughout the whole ordeal. Multiply the experience by twelve runners and you get some idea of what it was like for Lisa and her volunteers.

By the start of the race and up until about mile 30, I managed to keep up with the lead pack. That may have been a mistake to go out so fast. I hit mile 50 in eleven hours. But, I felt good and the general trend of the first half of the course profile was downhill. Eventually, the pain in my legs became more evident and I slowed down. But, pain is inevitable in a 100 mile run, and so far, there was nothing out of the ordinary going on with my body, so I pressed onward.

To take my mind off the pain, I focused on the beauty of my surroundings. Running through the National Forest in mid-October is a blessing of colors. The day was a perfect mix of sky blue and deep green, leaves of brilliant reds and yellows. The weather was sunny and cool. I grooved to the tunes of TLC, Ace of Base, Miles Davis, Eminem, Johnny Cash, and John Coltrane on my iPod. I drank steadily and consistently, ate plenty. Life couldn't have been any better.

By nightfall, things got a little dicey, but my spirits stayed high. Despite feeling a sleepy, I kept moving forward. In any case, rest was not an option - at one point, I asked Lisa if she would let me in the van to close my eyes and sleep for five minutes. Her response: "So sorry, dude," and she drove away. Sleepiness was, I think, my number one enemy during this race. To battle it, I chugged anything with caffeine, including Mountain Dew and coffee.

I experienced surges of energy throughout the race and allowed myself to be swept up by them. By mile 70, I was powering up all the hills and running for miles at a time. My goal was to catch the next runner in front of me. "He's only half a mile ahead," Lisa told me. I pressed on. After hours of running, I still hadn't caught him. Later, I found out that Lisa had lied to keep me motivated. He was actually about three or four miles ahead. In the middle of the night, I eventually caught up with him and passed him. I put about five miles distance between us. Then, I lost motivation to run hard. My only goal at that point became to no get passed up.

And I didn't get passed. When the sun came up, it was a blessing. The majesty of that red glow rising slowly over the Tetons is something you must see to believe. It gave me a boost of energy and I pressed onward.

We finished in the little town of Driggs, Idaho (the race actually went through three states - Montana, Wyoming, and Idaho), right in front of the Dreamchasers store, owned by Lisa and her husband, Jay. At the finish, I collected my buckle, ate some pizza, and drank some coconut water. Then, I waited for the other runners to come in. George came in beaming. After years of trying to successfully finish a 100 miler, he finally earned his buckle.

But, the star of the race was Bill. Bill had been having trouble for a while before the finish. By mile 70, he had developed a curious lean. From what I heard, his hamstrings were shot. His pacer had to hold him up and support him. But, he made it in with time to spare and with a big grin on his face. According to Lisa, he never complained once during the run. He always kept chugging along.

Thus marked the end of the inaugural Running with the Buffaloes 100 Mile Run. I can't wait to go back next year. In short, it was the best race I've ever done.

Philosophies from the Tetons (Part 2)

1) There's a difference between being fit and being healthy - I've met a number of fit people that aren't exactly healthy. They are slaves to whatever drives them to push their bodies to extremes. There is nothing wrong with pushing yourself, but there is a line. Ultrarunners edge very close to crossing that line at times. Running 100 miles is not a healthy endeavor. Being healthy means looking after your mind and spirit as much as your body. It also means maintaining healthy, loving relationships with those around you.

2) Fear is your friend - When you're out for a run or hike in bear country, you quickly gain a sense of humility. You instinctively know that you are not top of the food chain out there. A grizzly bear could be - probably is - lurking somewhere not too far away. The fear that builds in the back of your mind is a healthy and quite sane response! Fear entails respect which entails humility and caution.

3) Suffering is weakness - It shows weakness of mind. It shows that you choose to spend your time in a self-made hell rather than a blissful heaven. It shows lack of skill. If you are suffering in a race, you are doing something wrong. I know ultrarunners like to brag about their suffering because they think it makes them look tougher or more of a badass. Dean Karnazes says, "I love the pain." I know a guy who likes to show off the fact that he "shredded his tendons" (his words) during a 100 mile race and had to wear compression boots for a time after. This is nothing to boast about. Suffering is not a sign of strength. He either did not train properly or had a very poor race plan. Probably both. Ultramarathons offer you the unique opportunity to create a relationship with your body. Why choose to spend your time in misery?

Grand Teton 50 Miler Race Report

It was an intimidating start. I wasn't feeling 100%, the field was small, and the course was tough. I dreaded finishing in last place, or worse yet, not finishing at all. Both were distinct possibilities in my mind as I stood with the small crowd at the start line at 6:29 am, waiting for the race director to countdown to "1... and then, GO!" Fifty miles can seem like an eternity when you're in a bad frame of mind. But my coach, Lisa Smith-Batchen, was at the finish line, and I could not envision quitting in her presence. The woman would kill me.

"3...2...1..." And we were off. The course is comprised of two identical 25-mile loops. The first part of the course goes up what is called Fred's Mountain. It's a doozy of a climb up steep, rocky single-track trail. But, it was a beautiful morning and the views were gorgeous. Once I got into the race, all my anxiety melted away. The runners around me were chatting away about this and that. I cheerfully listened on as I ran.

After Fred's, it's pretty much all downhill. You work your way to the bottom of the canyon and then you make your way back up to the top for the next 25 miles. I made the big mistake of hammering the first part. The course is very runable, but, you need to pace yourself if you're going to hold out for the second loop. But, I wasn't thinking about things like that. I was having fun. Eventually, I put my iPod on and was grooving to some tunes. I was passing people. Life was good.

By the time I got to mile 25, I was in the lead pack. Not good. Lisa screamed at me to "slow down!" By that time, my quads were kind of shot. And all I could think about was going up that damn mountain again. Slowing down would not be an issue. I was deflated.

The second climb up Fred's was grueling. The trail going up seemed never-ending. My brain kept going, "This is brutal." I kept saying that over and over in my mind: "this is brutal... this is brutal." Then, I realized how negative up my thinking was. If you think something is going to be awful, it probably will be awful. It becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy. So, I changed my thinking. Trite as it may sound, I instead repeated the words, "This is beautiful." And, dammit, it worked. I got over the mountain.

The rest of the run is sort of a blur. I fell down a couple of times and skinned my finger. That hurt. I got nipple chaffing. (NOTE TO SELF: duct tape is not the answer to this particular issue). But, overall I was satisfied with my performance. I finished in 13 hours and change. Not a PR, but I'll take it. When I reached that finish line, it was - as is the case with most of my big race finishes - all I could do from gobbling down every and any food item in sight!

My First Pair of Hokas - The Marshmallow Shoe

They look so weird. Marshmallow shoes - that's what we called them. With their absurdly thick soles and bright neon colors, they look like great big clown shoes. And they seem to go against the current trend of minimalist running. Kind of the antithesis to that movement, really. But, they seem to work for a lot of people. Karl Meltzer is a fan. Catra Corbett is hooked. Lisa Smith-Batchen is a recent convert.

And these things are popping up everywhere. At your next trail ultra, take a look around at people's feet. Odds are, you will spot more than a few marshmallow shoes. Runners who own a pair swear by them and proclaim them to be some sort of magic shoe. "Love my Hokas," they will say. "Makes downhill running so much fun!" "I'm never going back to my old shoes."

With my 50 miler in the Tetons right around the corner, and with no other shoes to wear for it other than road racing flats (can we say "ouch!"), I decided to buy a pair and try them out for myself. See what all the fuss is about.

Turns out, they aren't so bad. They are actually minimalist in some ways. To begin, they are incredibly light, although they appear bulky. The heel-to-toe drop is pretty minimal. Where Hokas stand out, it seems, is in the cushioning. The thick sole makes roots and rocks almost nonexistant. You can glide over the trail. Downhill running becomes a breeze because all the shock is absorbed by the sole, which is made of a very soft EVA.

It's kind of weird at first to wear something so bulky-looking yet so light-feeling. You are high off the ground with them which may turn off purist runners who want to "feel" the earth beneath their feet.

Philosophies from the Tetons (Part 1)

While I've been living here in the Tetons, training with my friend Lisa Smith-Batchen, certain philosophies and ideas have come up that have really challenged the way I think about running, training, nutrition, and life in general. I've consolidated a few of these life philosophies into a list. A lot of these philosophies are Lisa's own. Others I have gathered from people I have met in the area. Still others are ones I have formulated on my own. I am conflicted on some of these ideas. I want to believe they hold true, but a part of me doesn't fully buy into them. I turn these ideas over and over in my head. I debate them. I question the truth of them. Whether they are true or not is almost beside the point, though. They are meant to challenge you and your perceptions. They have certainly challenged my own.

1) Live for the moment - I have heard this one several times from several people, and I'm not sure I buy it. Living for the moment is a wonderful concept, but it can lead to selfishness and recklessness. If you only live for the moment, you can end up neglecting so many important aspects of life. As such, I think the phrase "live for the moment" is incomplete. It should be: "live for the moment; plan for the future; and never forget your past."

2) Live a minimalistic life - At least one person here in the Tetons likes to expound on the virtues of living a minimalistic life. That is, consolidating all materialistic belongings to the bare essentials. As it was explained to me, this philosophy revolves around a denial of materialistic gratification and instead embraces nature and the primal instincts of man. Physical exertion, food, and sex are key tenants apparently. It goes even beyond that, though. The goal is to get rid of all the clutter in your life, psychological, spiritual, or otherwise. Theoretically, this is all probably a good idea, but when carried to its logical extreme, this concept rings of a kind of philosophical elitist separatism. A person cannot divorce themselves completely from all social responsibilities. We can't all retreat into the woods and live the simple life. The man who does so runs the risk of leading a very selfish life.

3) Meat and dairy are essential - A lot of people here eat meat. And dairy is huge here. Elk and bison burgers are in abundance in this part of the world. Milkshakes are big. It's very hard to be a vegan in Teton Valley (but I am managing just fine). Athletes here rely on animal products for protein, calcium, etc. Of course, the quality of the food is much better here. We are surrounded by farms. These farms treat their animals very well. Cows roam the fields happily. The farm animals lead relatively stress-free lives. As such, the milk and meat they yield is not contaminated with stress chemicals or other harmful substances. I've heard athletes say they "need" animal protein. This may be true. I've always assumed that because the essential amino acids to form protein are found in plants, humans don't "need" to eat meat to get protein. In fact, the only reason animal meat has protein in it is because they consume plants with the essential amino acids to form protein. But, maybe some people assimilate and use animal protein more efficiently than they do plant-derived protein. In any case, I don't think being vegan is an ethical or nutritional imperative. I think that as long as people are conscientious about what they eat and where their food comes from, that is big step in the right direction.

4) Run with your core, not your legs - Your core should be engaged when you run. Focus on your core when you run. Keep your core strong. If you don't have a strong core, you will tire out your legs very quickly. Say to yourself, "Core, core, core..." with each step. You shouldn't hear your feet slapping down on the ground. Silent feet are best. Focus on your breathing. Concentrate on your form.

A Glimpse into the Life of Elite Ultrarunner Lisa Smith-Batchen

I recently had the opportunity to live for two weeks with Lisa Smith-Batchen, her wonderful husband, Jay, and their two adopted daughters, Anabella and Gabriella, and their dog, Skip. I witnessed her family and professional life as she prepared for the grueling Badwater Ultramarathon. The following are my observations of this time period.

“Do you feel like an elite athlete?”

“No.” It was quiet for a moment as Lisa Smith-Batchen thought out her next words. “I feel like a busy mom,” she said.

She resumed packing her kids’ lunches, a ham and cheese sandwich, pretzels, an apple, a bag of orange slices, and a bag of baby carrots. We were standing in the kitchen of her home in Alta. The sun was just peaking over the horizon, casting a warm glow on the Tetons.

“It’s going to be a beautiful day,” she said, looking out the window. Lisa had been awake since five o’clock. She had taken the dog out for a walk, showered, and dressed for work. Her husband, Jay, was already at their store in Driggs. In a few minutes, the girls would need to wake up. Right next their lunch boxes on the kitchen counter, stood a big jar of money – mostly pennies – that Lisa found on her training runs. Pennies from Heaven she liked to call them. They were all to be donated to AIDS Orphans Rising, a charity very dear to Lisa’s heart and the focus of her life’s work.

“You can feed a child in some countries for six pennies. Just six cents can save someone’s life,” she told me. I wondered if perhaps she thought about her daughters when she talked about orphans. Did the love she feels for her own children fuel her zeal for helping the less fortunate, those children in the world without food, shelter, or loved ones to care for them?

When Gabby and Annie woke up, it was a mad rush to the door. Lisa was already running late to her morning class at Dreamchasers. She put Skip in his kennel in the back of the van, along with food, water, and his leash. As soon as they arrived at the store on Main Street, Lisa hopped out, helped her kids out of their car seats, and dashed into the doors. She glowed with energy.

“Hey everybody,” she called out. “Let’s get moving!”

Music blared from the speakers. She picked up the medicine ball and began her cardio core instruction.

“Get those knees up,” she yelled. “Move it! Keep those abs tight!” By the end of the session her students were drenched in sweat, their breaths coming in short, fast bursts. Everyone seemed content with their morning workout. But, Lisa didn’t stick around to chat. She got the girls together and drove to the Sports Club at Teton Springs, where she would work until closing time.

“When do you find time to train,” I asked her on the ride to the Club. “I don’t have time for that,” she replied.

It was true. In all the time I spent with her, she only did a handful of training sessions. Badwater was fast approaching. This was Lisa’s tenth and final go at the 135-mile run in Death Valley, dubbed “the toughest footrace on the planet.” The race is the final part of her Running Hope to America mission, her way of raising money for and awareness of orphaned children around the world who have lost their parents to AIDS.

Even with Badwater around the corner, Lisa didn’t get in any distance longer than twelve miles prior to the race. There was always too much going on. Kids. Work. Coaching. When she finally got home at night, she would sit with Jay in their living room and they would talk about their day. Sometimes they would just sit silent and be together, loving partners supporting each other through the hectic hubbub of everyday life.

After the girls went to bed, Lisa would get on her computer and sort through hundreds of e-mails, letters from students around the world who sought advice from their coach. Late into the night she worked, sometimes staying up until midnight.

Lisa is many things to many people – a mother, wife, sister, and friend. She is an inspiration and a teacher. She brings hope to many people with her charitable acts of kindness. Her seemingly inexhaustible amount of energy is astonishing to behold. If she spreads herself too thin sometimes, it is because her very nature is selfless.

Even though she didn’t get in what might be considered optimal training for an event like Badwater, her will power alone, her passion for running for charity - running for a purpose, she calls it - will undoubtedly carry her through to a glorious finish, whatever that finish may be.

By the time you read this article, the race will be finished. While I can’t say for sure whether or not she will make it to the finish since nothing is certain in a race like Badwater, I can promise you that Lisa will have given it her all. She will not give up her fight to help the children. Never.

As she shut down her computer for the night, she looked at me and said, “Be ready to wake up early tomorrow, kiddo. We’re going walking before work to look for pennies to put in the jar.” With that, she went to bed.

The Master Cleanser - Tell Me What You Think!

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Book Review: Hillenbrand's "Unbroken" reveals real-life heroism

Louis Zamperini would swipe the food, stealthily, and then run like hell. He ran from the cops; he ran from the store owners; he ran from angry residents brandishing guns. The notorious street tough outran them all. He'd steal any food he could get his hands on; he was always staging pranks and getting into fistfights. Friends and neighbors didn't expect him to live beyond his childhood years. And on numerous occasions, they were almost right.

The son of Italian immigrants growing up in Torrance, California, Zamperini was perpetually in hot water with authority. He was often escorted home late evenings by the police. Probably few, if any, of those who knew him expected the delinquent to grow up to become an Olympic athlete and one of America's greatest distance runners. Certainly, no one expected him to become a WWII bombardier, plane crash survivor, POW, and survivor of post-war turmoil.

But, that's exactly what happened. Laura Hillenbrand's extraordinary book, "Unbroken: A World War II Story of Survival, Resilience, and Redemption," chronicles the incredible life story of a man who lived through one catastrophe after another and still emerged with his dignity and humanity intact.

It all started when his brother made him join the high school track team. Zamperini hated running, but after rigorous training, he soon realized he had the gift of speed. Running provided him the perfect outlet for his aggression; instead of using his fleet feet for mischief, he was now setting national and world records in the sport. He ran the mile in 4 minutes and 21.2 seconds. Everyone expected him to be the first person to break the 4-minute mile.

In 1936, he ran for U.S. Olympic team in the 5000 meters in Berlin. Although he finished in eighth place, his final lap time of 56 seconds, an unprecedented time for a final lap of that distance, caught the attention of many people, including that of Adolf Hitler, who watched in his stadium balcony. The two met face-to-face. "You're the boy with the fast finish," Hitler told him while shaking his hand.

War ended his running career. Zamperini enlisted in the U.S. Army Air Forces in 1941. One day, his plane experienced mechanical difficulties and it crashed into the ocean. He and his crew spent 47 days adrift at sea. They lived off albatross and fish they caught; they were shot at from above by Japanese bomber planes; they were hunted from below by sharks; they were nearly swallowed whole by a sea storm. By the time the Japanese Navy found them and took them to their prison camps, the men were emaciated shells of their former selves.

All of this is told in remarkably fast-paced and thrilling way. Hillenbrand, who also wrote "Seabiscuit," manages to give her readers the hard facts of history while fleshing out an absorbing and entertaining story. She avoids embellishing the facts and getting too carried away with the poetic license that biographers sometimes take when filling in the gaps of historical records. Nothing that is written in this book, she tells us in the introduction, is unsupported by historical evidence. She didn't make it up.

She didn't need to. The truth is incredible enough. Not many could endure what Zamperini did and even live to tell the tale. He is a shining example of true heroism. His is a story of how an ordinary kid from a troubled background can grow up to achieve extraordinary things. A tough and resilient man, Zamperini is still going strong. At 93 years-old, today he travels around the world giving lectures. The fast kid from Torrance is still as spry as ever.