Let your mind run A memoir of thinking my way to victory

Kastor has been running since she was 11 years old and has earned an Olympic bronze medal and set numerous American records in road racing. In this engaging memoir, she shares the highs and lows of her career, starting as a child phenom and high-school state champion, through her injury-plagued collegiate years, and on to the road that took her to becoming a world-class athlete. Kastor focuses here on lessons learned through exercising her mental muscles, how she coped with setbacks and disappointments due to injuries, and the aha moments of clarity that came through positive thinking all of which propelled her forward in sport and life with gratitude and uplifting optimism. This is a tribute to her team (family, coaches, husband, and friends) and a gift to all who are passionate about running and who seek to find balance with mental conditioning. In addition, her tributes to her mentors, including legendary coach Joe Vigil, provide a valuable playbook for all coaches. A heartfelt and impressive memoir from one of America's treasured runners on her lifelong pursuit of excellence in body and mind.--Barrera, Brenda Copyright 2018 Booklist

Kastor, an Olympic medalist and American marathon record-holder, reveals the mental tactics that led her to Olympic bronze in this meticulous account of her career. When Kastor, writing with fitness journalist Hamilton, started running in 1984 at age 11, she showed a natural talent for the sport. Early on, she connected the approval she received from her parents, coaches, and community with winning and decided that winning was "the point of racing." She left her home in Augura Hills, Calif., for the University of Arkansas; when she suffered an injury and later became frustrated with running, she almost quit. After college she trained with Joe Vigil, an expert on training at altitude, and decided to give running "four years, an Olympic cycle." With Vigil's coaching, Kastor learned the importance of hard training, rest, and mental positivity. Kastor notes, "The effects of positivity didn't surprise me. What surprised me was that it worked all the time." Eventually, Kastor learned how to practice gratitude, create a "mindset of enjoyment," and separate her sense of self-worth from the outcome of a race. Though the memoir sometimes feels like a catalogue of Kastor's many races and victories, it offers an unusual glimpse into the mind of an elite runner and presents a positive approach to life that can benefit runners both on and off the track. (Apr.) © Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved.

Running seemed fail-proof. There were no tryouts, no one was cut, everyone participated and got a ribbon. Most kids started with the sprints, but my mom ruled them out because a few girls in the valley were already racing at a national level, including future Olympian Marion Jones. Ever protective, my mom thought if I got clobbered in the sprints, my self-esteem would plummet, so she had me join the distance-running group. My dad drove us all to the track on the first day. I was braiding Lesley's hair when we pulled in to the school and the chaotic scene caught our attention. Kids were jumping into sandboxes, arching over bars, falling into big blue mattresses. Coaches were shouting and pointing and clapping. My mom, with a plush stadium cushion in one hand and my sister's hand in the other, made a beeline toward the bleachers. I followed my dad, who had offered again to be a volunteer coach. We scanned the field to find the distance team and were eventually directed to a group of about eight boys and girls huddled around head coach Sal Pratts. Coach Pratts was a big personality stuffed into a short, strong frame. "Today's warm--up is a half mile on the track, then five minutes on the trail," he said. Wary of doing something wrong, I asked, "How many laps is a half mile?" "Two," he said. My dad held up two fingers. "Where's the trail?" Coach Pratts started to give me directions, but then said, "Just follow Noelle, if you can keep her in your sights." Noelle was tall and leggy, with short, curly brown hair and big white teeth highlighting a friendly smile. We hit the track. Noelle had been running for a few years and her experience showed, but I found I could keep up with her. This was a relief; I just had to watch her to know what to do. Our half mile complete, I followed Noelle out the gate. The school abutted the foothills of the Santa Monica Mountains, and we followed a dusty trail a short way into the hills. I looked up and was taken aback. The land was open and wild. There were fields of dry grasses and chaparral broken only by large arching oak trees. Rattlesnakes hidden in yellow flowering brush shook their tails, and horses grazed in the fenced--off meadows. I'd seen the mountains on the drive to the mall and thought they were pretty, but never knew you could go into them. When it was time to turn around, I didn't want to. I loved running right from the start. It was simple and fun. It lacked rules and structure. There was no equipment to fuss with, no technique to learn. While the kids on the infield waited for their turn to jump or throw, Noelle and I and the other kids ran single file on the dusty cinder track. I remember thinking how lucky we runners were to be in constant motion. We were part of the action all the time. Running was also, to my surprise and delight, both solitary and social. One minute I was dashing down the track as if by myself on the side of the hill. The next, I was whipping around and making funny faces, trying to make my teammates laugh. Best of all, running didn't make me feel foolish or ridiculous, like I'd done something wrong. The ease of it made me feel competent and free. Everything we were asked to do, I could do. I ran and counted my laps. I warmed up on the trails, happily shooting 
out the gate with my teammates to the wild open space, and ran among the rabbits and deer. Sometimes, Coach Pratts let us run through the neighborhood. We stretched across the whole street, a pack of scrawny kids exploring manicured suburbia, unfettered, adventurous, going where none of the other kids got to go.     Excerpted from Let Your Mind Run: A Memoir of Thinking My Way to Victory by Deena Kastor, Michelle Hamilton All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.