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And now a summary of this book.

"I'm Scott Jurek. I am so great. I'm vegan. I'm Scott Jurek. I am so great. I'm vegan. I'm Scott Jurek. I am so great. I'm vegan. I'm Scott Jurek. I am so great. I'm vegan. I'm Scott Jurek. I am so great. I'm vegan. I'm Scott Jurek. I am so great. I'm vegan. I'm Scott Jurek. I am so great. I'm vegan."

Look. I like Scott Jurek. We all do. He's a great runner and he just seems like a really nice guy. But you'll need the willpower of an ultra marathoner to get through this one...and getting the to last page will probably feel like crossing the finish line in a 100-mile ultra, too.

Here's the thing. I don't really care about a book that's nothing more than an ongoing list of Jurek's trail-running triumphs, broken up by the occasionally interesting vegan recipe. And while I do buy into Jurek's plant-based diet thing, it's really not going to stand between me and my weekly cheeseburger. Though Jerker never gets too douchebaggy about his diet, he does get irritating. I mean, his whole claim that eating cows and chickens is bad because the animals are injected with hormones and antibiotics? Well, dude, you're probably right, but let's not forget that your prized vegetables are doused in pesticides ... unless they're organic, in which case they're fertilized with feces. *Yummay*.

And isn't it just such Western snobbery to refuse food and get all crampy about your diet? I mean, you don't see Kenyan running champion Samuel Wanjiru following a special diet. Oh wait, that's right, he got wasted and fell from a balcony to his death, so he actually doesn't give a fuck about his diet at all. Never mind. The point is, shut the fuck up, eat, and enjoy life.

The parts where the book momentarily borders on interesting are too few and far between. Example? His wife finally up and leaves him (perhaps because our fair Jurek was too busy training, racing, and winning) because she's in love with another man. Now, any non-moron knows who the guy is, but not only does Jurek frustratingly refuse to dish out the dirt, he doesn't even give us an inkling of emotion. Come on, Scottie! Call her a skank! Call her a cheating hooker and tell us how you went out and banged her best friend for revenge! Give us something we can USE for Chrissakes! But alas, no, it's only depression and more running.

Something like a narrative arc follows when Jurek talks about losing his mother and falling out with his best friend, but it's always the running, the running, the running. See, instead of telling us how he feels, we just learn that Jurek's bad mood leads him to lose races that he should have won. The moral of the story? Jurek comes to understand that winning isn't everything. Sigh. Fuck me.

Unlike my other reviews where I rip the book to shreds and take the author down with me, I actually *like* this author and wanted to like this book. It didn't happen. But I don't want my money back. Hey, That's a first.

Sucked. But Scott Jurek doesn't suck. Just hire a ghost writer next time, buddy.