This season, I want my players to become Tarahumaras. The Tarahumaras or Rarámuri —which means “those who run fast” or “the light-footed runners” in their own language— are an Indigenous people from the Copper Canyons, northern Mexico. An Indigenous people who were turned into just another toy in the hands of the Global North once discovered their ability to run absurdly long distances without modern, cushioned running shoes. The Tarahumara run —100 km, no problem— barefoot or in handmade sandals. And they are not exactly slow runners: when they have taken part in top-level international races, they have taken first place. Yes, they have won races like the Leadville Trail 100 and even outpaced world-class runners such as Scott Jurek without those fancy running shoes you drop half your salary on just to run a marathon in six hours. One could question whether these are a real necessity or just another thing the consumerist system has quietly imposed on you. And —sorry to all the brands making a living off runners’ dreams and passions— it seems that neither a cutting-edge heart rate monitor nor uploading your mileage to Strava is relevant to understand the Tarahumaras’ extraordinary capacity. But that’s not what I am here to talk about. And if it were, Christopher McDougall already covered it way better than I ever could.
Because no: I do not want my players to become Tarahumaras in that sense. I could not care less about long-distance running. It would be a great twist, would it not? After everything I have preached, to promote decontextualized interventions in isolated environments with a perception-action cycle that has nothing to do with competitive behavior. Selling advice I do not even buy myself. Without skin in the game —apologies, NNT. Criticizing traditional training methods with Natàlia Balagué, John Kiely or Pau Casassa, while I spend pre-season “filling the tanks” doing laps around the pitch and running up hills. But no. That’s not what I mean. That’s something I would have done back when I was a moron —or, at least, more of one than I am now.
I want my players to become Tarahumaras in a different sense: the Tarahumaras do not understand what “training” means. They have no clue about that “modern”, planned, formal notion, separated from the competition, that we Westerners call “training”.