The Primal Blueprint (44 page)

On the flip side, a bad diet could be an even more profound risk factor than sun exposure for skin cancer. Research published by the National Academy of Sciences indicates that a healthy dietary omega-6:omega-3 ratio is critical to skin cancer prevention. As we have already learned, eating a diet heavy in processed foods can produce obscene ratios of 20:1 through 50:1, instead of the 4:1 or less omega-6:omega-3 ratio that can be achieved with a
Primal Blueprint
eating style of natural animal meats, vegetables, and fruits—and some prudent omega-3 supplementation. As we also learned previously, an unhealthy imbalance of fatty acid ratios in your diet has been known to exacerbate the growth of tumors and other inflammation-related health conditions.

“The high antioxidant values obtained when you eat Primal Blueprint style, combined with the use of potent antioxidant supplements, can go a long, long way toward reducing or eliminating any damage caused by sun exposure.”

Reflecting on the big picture of genetics, lifestyle practices, and corresponding health risks, we are sometimes led astray from common sense by looking at isolated examples of people who defy the odds and experience unpredictable results—both positive and negative. Yes, there are health freaks eating optimal diets with good family histories who will inexplicably get cancer, but this is not a logical argument against living a clean life. Also, upon deeper examination, sometimes “inexplicable” becomes clearer. A dark-featured person who avoids sunlight yet contracts skin cancer might be a victim of vitamin D deficiency and an imbalance of fatty acids in the diet more so than simply random bad luck. What about the hard-living, inactive characters who make it to a ripe-old age on processed foods, tobacco, and alcohol? Could it be that they simply got enough sunlight and handled stress particularly well?

In summary, make a concerted effort to obtain a sensible amount of sunlight every single day. If your pigmentation or environment makes you particularly sensitive to the dangers of excessive sun exposure, cover up your skin with protective clothing after you obtain direct rays to a significant percentage of your body (and eat lots of fruits and vegetables!). Sunburned skin is your benchmark to avoid excessive exposure.

Despite common Fred Flintstone-like depictions, early man was far from a numbskull. Grok was most certainly attuned to his surroundings and was skillful in his ability to avoid making mistakes or getting into situations likely to endanger health. This common faulty assumption that our hunter-gatherer ancestors lived “solitary, poor, nasty, brutish and short” lives (as described in the “state of nature” theory advanced by 17th-century English philosopher Thomas Hobbes, when he argued for the need to have government structure in civilization instead of living off the land hunter-gatherer style) has always bugged me.

“I drive way too fast to worry about cholesterol.
—
Author Unknown
”

Research suggests that Grok and his family were actually generally healthy (robust is the apropos term), productive, and so appreciative of their lives that they felt the need to express themselves through art. There may even have been a selective benefit within tribal units for grandparents—meaning that getting older may have actually had an evolutionary advantage (babysitting or the transfer of important knowledge and history, for example) far past procreating.

So, if they were so robust and if our genes truly evolved to allow us—and possibly even encourage us—to live long lives, then why was the average life span relatively short? I had always assumed that it was things like deaths during childbirth, infections, accidental poisoning, even tribal warfare that brought the average life span down. But then I got a real-life experience of what might have affected life span more than anything else. Far from nasty and brutish, it was the mundane lapses in judgment, even minor ones, that likely spelled doom for many primal humans.

My unusually bad dive during an Ultimate match in September 2007 resulted in a torn quadriceps muscle, displaced kneecap, ruptured prepatellar bursa, and smashed nerve. An X-ray revealed no other tendon or ligament damage, and my orthopedist said the softtissue injury would heal in 12 weeks. He advised me to use pain as my guide and come back slowly. Because I had no pain at all (smashed nerve, remember?), I felt like I was recovering quickly. I even resumed my beach sprints in early December, followed by a snow-boarding trip over Christmas break. But despite wrapping the knee every day and taking it fairly easy (wink, wink—and again no pain), I came home with a very swollen, black-and-blue knee. By the end of the week, I was unable to bend it more than a few degrees. An MRI revealed a large organized hematoma over the quad and kneecap that needed to be removed surgically. During surgery, it was discovered that the original torn quad muscle had never repaired itself and was leaking blood into the space, causing the hematoma. So my surgeon removed the hematoma and stitched the quad back to the patellar tendon.

Here I was, 54 years old, with the body of a 25-year-old and the mind of a 17-year-old, looking forward to living well past 100, but I was effectively incapacitated for more than four months by an injury caused by a random fall. (Truth be told, I had second thoughts as soon as I jumped.) Of course, I had the luxury of modern surgical procedures to repair the damage and eventually recovered fully. Had this happened 10,000 years ago, my inability to run away from a predator might well have spelled the end for me—all because of a momentary lapse of judgment. Even today, a small accident that active younger folks barely sneeze at (e.g., a fall from a ladder while hanging the holiday lights or turning an ankle on a staircase) can mean something entirely different for someone elderly and sedentary (such as a fatal case of pneumonia contracted while “recuperating” in bed).

As society continues to modernize exponentially, we arguably exhibit less and less common sense in avoiding stupid mistakes. I believe part of the reason is that deep down, we know we can afford to make them. Our intricate system of safety nets in modern society has compromised our capacity to take responsibility for our role in the “accidents” that occur and are chronicled by the news media seemingly every single day. Look no further than YouTube or Jackass television reruns to confirm that we are actively inviting unnecessary struggle and suffering into our lives—all in the name of expressing the youthful sense of adventure that has been stifled by the constraints and predictability of the modern world. The “Darwin Awards” satirical book and Web site annually bestow special distinction on those who, with particular brilliance, “improve the gene pool by removing themselves from it.” Here are some of my favorite recent winners:

Hot Rod:
A Texas motorist spilled a gas can in the back of his car. While searching for the can at night, he flicked on a cigarette lighter to get a better view, igniting the vehicle.

Nacho Libre:
A Pennsylvania man was critically injured when he crashed his motorcycle into a telephone pole—distracted by a plate of nachos on his lap.

CSI—Alternate Ending:
A police officer in Illinois was trying to show another patrolman how a fellow officer had accidentally killed himself. While reenacting the shooting from the previous week, he forgot to unload his gun and shot himself in the stomach. While driving himself to the hospital to seek treatment, he was killed in an auto accident.

Up, Up, and Away:
A Catholic priest in Brazil attached a lawn chair to dozens of helium balloons and launched his homemade craft. Winds picked up and he drifted out to sea.
Well prepared for this potential adversity, he fired up his satellite phone to call for help but could not figure out how to operate his GPS unit to provide an accurate location for rescuers. Rescuers were unable to locate him—ever…although bits of balloon were found later on mountains and beaches.

Off the Falls:
A man attempted to pilot a rocket-boosted jet ski off the side of Niagara Falls. The idea was for the rocket to launch the jet ski beyond the danger of the falls and then deploy a parachute and float to safety. The damp air caused both the rocket and parachute to fail as he rode off the edge of the falls. Miraculously, he survived the 160-foot drop but drowned because he didn’t know how to swim and was not wearing a life jacket.

A book I read recently,
Survive!: My Fight for Life in the High Sierra
, may hit closer to home than the more preposterous aforementioned examples. The story dramatizes a familiar modern paradox: we possess vast intelligence and technology to extricate ourselves from all kinds of trouble but lack the common sense to avoid it in the first place.

The book relates the story of author and pilot Peter DeLeo crashing his small plane during a winter sightseeing trip over rugged mountain terrain in the California Sierra. DeLeo left his two seriously injured comrades at the crash site and hiked 50 miles in 13 days to reach civilization—despite a broken leg, a torn shoulder, broken ribs, no food, and no navigation equipment. His survival instincts on the journey, which included several days of blizzard conditions, were remarkable. Each evening, he scavenged materials to bury himself in an elaborate shelter and then conducted intensive breathing exercises for hours to ward off potentially fatal hypothermia. He timed his hiking efforts by the weather, starting before sunrise to ensure crusty snow and ending at midday to allow adequate time to dry his clothes in the sun and avoid dehydration from over-heating. DeLeo’s awareness of his surroundings, expert risk management, and leveraging of natural resources would have made Grok proud.

Unfortunately, upon closer inspection, his heroics were severely tainted by scathing criticism from experienced pilots and wilderness experts. The official NTSB crash investigation concluded that pilot error was the cause of the accident (countering DeLeo’s claim of “freak wind shears”). Lacking proper navigation charts aboard the plane (strike one if you’re keeping score at home), he flew into a box canyon with an insufficiently powered plane (strike two), necessitating a forced crash landing. He had failed to file a flight plan at takeoff (strike three) or inform anyone of even a general travel plan (strike four), and he failed to have a fully functional emergency transmitter aboard the plane (strike five, you’re out—even in T-ball!). These oversights critically delayed the rescue effort; DeLeo’s two friends were dead when he led rescuers back to the craft two weeks later.

Speaking of Darwin and the gene pool, DeLeo’s brother participated in the rescue effort by impulsively jumping on his motorcycle and heading into the Sierra from Los Angeles. Gunning up a mountain pass, he snuck past a ranger who had ordered him to turn back, lifted his bike through the “closed for winter” barricade, and continued on until the road was impassable because of snow. He ditched his bike and wandered around on snowshoes looking for his brother for a while and then returned down the treacherous pass. During his descent, he slid on a patch of ice and was nearly pancaked by oncoming traffic.

Extending the lens wider, each of us must admit that we have brought various levels of misfortune and trauma into our lives from lapses in concentration or critical thinking. As we attempt to reflect on these stupid mistakes, often we default to blaming bad luck instead of reenacting the chain of events with a deep, honest assessment of our accountability. In fact, the concept of taking responsibility seems to have all but disappeared from modern life. If we truly deconstruct those times we have been the victim of circumstances, it’s quite likely we can discover that exact moment when we were distracted, made a poor choice, or ignored the clear warning signal that might have helped us to avoid the entire incident.

“Funny how some guys always find a way to crash and others [namely Armstrong] always find a way to win.
—
Martin Dugard
Tour de France journalist”

As those who aspire to peak performance accumulate self-help libraries full of books on achieving financial freedom, implementing the latest winning management techniques, or mastering complex hobbies (e.g., golf, sailing, triathlon, or oil painting), it makes sense to add hypervigilance and risk management to the list of skills that require careful honing. These are innate skills that we all possess, and like any other skill—or muscle—we have to use and develop them or they will atrophy. Unfortunately, the obsessive effort society makes to diffuse all forms of risk and danger suppresses the use of these natural instincts: endless warning signs on roads and in public venues, warning labels on every consumer product, and sensationalized news reports about the dangers of shampoo, financial scammers, and kids’ pajamas catching fire. Furthermore, continued technological innovations in the name of comfort and convenience collectively push us toward running on autopilot, often to our detriment, through various mundane elements of daily life.

In driving through Europe, I’m amused to note how few warnings and safety precautions are on the roadways. You can drive on narrow roads over treacherous alpine passes and find no guardrails, minimal road striping, and only an occasional small sign designating a tight turn, an avalanche danger, or a reduced speed zone. You have utter chaos in many big cities with raw aggression routinely winning out over traffic lights, signage, or the use of turn signals—but cars still seem to reach their destination safely. In contrast, take a spin through the canyons near my home and you will see miles upon miles of sturdy guardrails and endless diamond-shaped yellow signs with admonitions and icons warning you of assorted dangers that lurk around every corner. Nevertheless, every year tragedy strikes our local community with fatal accidents (typically induced by alcohol and/or speeding) on these obsessively protected roads.