"We are different, in essence, from other men. If you want to enjoy something, run 100 meters. If you want to experience something, run a marathon." --Emil Zatopek For a decade after the Second World War, Emil Zatopek--"the Czech locomotive"--redefined the sport of distance running, pushing back the frontiers of what was considered possible. He won five Olympic medals, set eighteen world records, and went undefeated in the 10,000-metre race for six years. His dominance has never been equaled. In the darkest days of the Cold War, he stood for a spirit of generous friendship that transcended nationality and politics. Zatopek was an energetic supporter of the Prague Spring in 1968, championing "socialism with a human face" in Czechoslovakia. But for this he paid a high price. After the uprising was crushed by Soviet tanks, the hardline Communists had their revenge. Zatopek was expelled from the army, stripped of his role in national sport, and condemned to years of hard and degrading manual labor. Based on extensive research in the Czech Republic, interviews with people across the world who knew him, and unprecedented cooperation from his widow, fellow Olympian Dana Zatopkova, journalist Richard Askwith's book breathes new life into the man and the myth, uncovering a glorious age of athletics and an epoch-defining time in world history.

Ipeaked: A Reluctant Runner's World is about my 30+ years and over 30,000 miles of running. It's not your typical runner's book since my passion is more about quality of life than running. I am truly a reluctant runner who embraces and enjoys the benefits of the world of running rather than the act. So if you're starting to run or are a seasoned runner or bicyclist: meet my guardian angels, race and train with me, share my life with family and friends, and learn a few things about running (run walk method, paying forward, training schedule, how not to run a marathon and more), cross training (biking and swimming), first triathlon, beginning road biking, and runner gift suggestions. I have mastered the balance of being competitive while adhering to a ?don't hurt yourself? training regimen. It seems to have worked since I'm still at college weight, my butt hasn't fallen off yet, and most of my family and friends are still talking to me.

Zen Track Rambling came about quite by chance: First, as a joyful account to capture the feelings I experienced during my long runs; and secondly, as a means to relieve the pain, depression, and general helplessness I felt during a long-term injury. My running journey has led me to extreme highs, but has also plunged me bipolar-like into the depths of depression. The journey began in Starved Rock State Park, outside of LaSalle, Illinois, in August 1999, when I was an expatriate in Australia working in the States for a spell. At sunrise, I'd run the trails before work, then share in a communal breakfast with my workshop colleagues; yet during the work day, I would drift and daydream. I was fifty-something, and felt disconnected, not knowing who I was or where I was headed. But I put my time to good use during those humdrum workshops: I'd scribble the memories from the day's run on scraps of paper The result of my ennui was an accumulation of paper scraps marked with ruminations of my daily runs. On my flight back to Australia, I gathered those scraps and magically scribed the poem "zen track rambling." The title of the poem, however, is unrelated to my morning runs on the Starved Rock trails even though they were the poem's inspiration; rather, zen track is a name my Australian running mates and I coined to describe a scorching hot, blustery bike path which runs along a railway line-and, which once hosted the infamous Ghan from Adelaide to Darwin-where we often hallucinated as we ran in 100 plus-degree temperatures. As I was living and working in Australia for quite some time, I made a few friends in the South Australian Writer's Workshop, notably Kim, who encouraged me to read "zen track rambling" in one of the Poetry Under The Pier reading sessions in Henley Beach. I remember my first poetry reading like it was yesterday. Somewhat unsure of myself, I drew a deep breath and bared my soul to the gathered throng of poetry lovers. The ensuing positive reception I received convinced me to continue to write down what I felt, envisioned, and/or hallucinated on my long runs. As the years went by, I ran hundreds of miles, maybe even thousands, and the word count accumulated along with those miles. Australia was where I also got into competitive racing. On the weekends, I ran 20 plus-mile endurance runs on the sands of Henley Beach. I ran the annual 30Km South Australian Road Runners Club race many times, but it became less and less of a challenge. I could no longer ignore thoughts of running a marathon I knew I had the distance in the bag since I was already running 20-plus mile runs each weekend on the beach. Completing that first marathon was just the beginning of my long-distance running career. Then, in June 2000, an injury crippled my running life. I had been training for the Corporate Cup, running with guys 20 years my junior and at their pace My 5K time was a sub-20 minutes Not bad for a fifty-year-old But every runner knows that speedwork takes a toll on the body, and running hardcore like that resulted in very painful sciatica. I felt discouraged and depressed, and those feelings became apparent in my writing. When I think back to that time, I realize that writing had become my therapy, my way to understand my own fears and to express a hope I did not yet feel. Many of my poems, particularly, "footsteps in the sand" not only reveal my physical pain but also the mental anguish I felt. When the pain from my injury subsided-it took six long months-I felt the adrenaline urge again, but this time I replaced competitive racing with slow, long-distance running. Similarly, my writing style also changed: I started to write how I felt during those long runs in the form of race reports-instead of poetry-to memorialize my ultra-marathon experiences. My running life had finally pushed me forward into positive places on the trails and my spirit of running was renewed.