The popular story of how low-carb diets work goes something like this: Reducing your carbohydrate...
Let me introduce myself. My name is Mark Sisson. I’m 63 years young. I live and work in Malibu, California. In a past life I was a professional marathoner and triathlete. Now my life goal is to help 100 million people get healthy. I started this blog in 2006 to empower people to take full responsibility for their own health and enjoyment of life by investigating, discussing, and critically rethinking everything we’ve assumed to be true about health and wellness...Tell Me More
Instead of going on and on about how good butter is and stringing together mouth-watering adjectives to describe the nuances of flavor and incredibly rich texture, we’re going to assume that butter needs no introduction. It’s butter, for Pete’s sake. We’ve all tasted it before and all of us are probably more than familiar with its charms. However, consider yourself warned that the recipe we’re sharing here is a little bit dangerous – it’s not just for butter, it’s for homemade cultured butter. If you find store-bought butter hard to resist, you don’t stand a chance against homemade cultured butter. For better or for worse, you’re going to want to eat this stuff with a spoon.
For anyone that’s had the thought, “Never in a million years could I…”, these stories are for you. For any athlete looking to go Primal and improve performance, these stories are for you. For anyone that thinks the Primal Blueprint is best suited for men, these stories are for you. These two female fighters are strong. Primal strong. Read on for your weekly dose of inspiration, and then get out there and break your own million year misconceptions.
And if you have your own Primal Blueprint success story you’d like to share with me and the Mark’s Daily Apple community please contact me here. I can only keep publishing these each Friday as long as they keep coming in and I know you’re out there, so shoot me a line and we’ll work out the details. Have a wonderful Friday, everyone, and thanks for reading!
I originally got into health and fitness in 2005 to fit into my wedding dress. My size 18 wedding dress.
I consider myself a pretty social person, but I’ll admit I need my “cave” time – those periodic hours away from everyone and most everything. After a long and compact business trip, a joint vacation with extended family or friends, the ruckus of the holidays, or a week of house guests, I hit my threshold – beyond which I slip into an irritable, irascible version of myself. Usually my wife catches it before I do and gently reminds me to retreat for a time until I’m fit for society again. After a brief self-imposed seclusion (usually a day of hiking), I’m as good as new. In short, a bit of regular solitude keeps me civilized.
Last week’s bibliotherapy post got folks talking about their reading practices – both favorite books and personal motivations. There were even a few professional bibliotherapy practitioners among the mix. Small world it is. Thanks, as always, for the amazing feedback and conversation. Today’s topic – and flip side of reading therapy: writing therapy. Just as we learn through the lens of others’ tales, we gain insight by composing our own. Avid journal keepers out there are already nodding their heads. Anyone who’s faced down deep grief, been flooded with joy, been plagued by confusion and picked up a pen in response is likely recalling the trigger of that moment now. When we’re drawn to fill a page, we’re often surprised at what is summoned. Oftentimes, we don’t truly know our thoughts until we put language to them. That’s the point of writing therapy (or one of them anyway). Words act as a medium for expression and catalyst for clarity – or at least illumination. In writing our experience, we move beyond the factual detail, obvious chronology, and surface reaction. We delve into the heart of the beast and come out changed for the passage.
Olive oil’s reputation has been besmirched. It isn’t the magic life elixir fueling the teeming hordes of Mediterranean-dieting, crusty bread-eating, moderate wine-drinking centenarians, but it doesn’t deserve to be tossed in the trash heap with soybean, grapeseed, corn, and canola oils. I sense that it’s fast becoming a “fallen fat” among our crowd and I think it’s a darn shame. Are a few extra grams of linoleic acid, one or two unfortunate incidents of adulterated oil, and gushing praise from vegans, vegetarians, and the American Heart Association alike enough to turn us against a staple, phenolic-rich food sporting several thousand years of storied history?
First on the docket for this round of Monday Musings: steak. Steak is an objectively good thing. It can heal wounds and improve your squat. There’s really no conceivable reason not to eat steak, and plenty of reasons to cram it down one’s gullet on a regular basis. O sacred slab, thou finest fuel for metabolic processes. Gift of cud and hoof… Okay, let me get to the point, before I get off track and turn this post into a terrible 2,000 word ode to steak.
Steak is a rich source of B-vitamins, especially B-12 (fish and dairy are also good for it), which is crucial for infant neurological development. A new study suggests prenatal B-12 levels might even influence a baby’s propensity to cry. Researchers tested the B-12 levels of 3,000 pregnant women three months into their pregnancy; after their children were born, they measured the infants’ crying patterns. Kids born to mothers with the lowest B-12 levels were more likely to cry louder and longer – up to eight times more likely than kids born to mothers with the highest levels. I don’t blame the kids. I become a weepy mess if, say, my ribeye isn’t thawed in time for dinner. Hmm, so what’s the solution? Eat some steak… right?