🎾 Serve To Win The 14 - Day Gluten - Free Plan For Physical And Tâm Lý Excellence¶
Giới Thiệu¶
Serve To Win The 14 - Day Gluten - Free Plan For Physical And Tâm Lý Excellence — tài liệu 137 trang từ thư viện sách tennis.
Chủ đề chính: Tâm lý, Tầm nhìn, Novak Djokovic, Giao bóng
Tóm tắt nội dung (trích từ tài liệu gốc): No book can replace the diagnostic expertise and medical advice of a trusted physician. Please be certain to consult with your doctor before making any decisions that affect your health, particularly if you suffer from any medical condition or have any symptom that may require treatment. Copyright � 2013 by Novak Djokovic All rights reserved. Published in the United States by Zinc Ink, an imprint of The Random House Publishing Group, a division of Random House LLC, New York, a Penguin Random House Company. BALLANTINE and the HOUSE colophon are registered trademarks of Random House LLC. ZINC IN
Lưu ý: Nội dung dưới đây được trích xuất tự động từ PDF gốc tiếng Anh, giữ nguyên ngôn ngữ để bảo toàn độ chính xác kỹ thuật.
Nội Dung Gốc (Tiếng Anh)¶
No book can replace the diagnostic expertise and medical advice of a trusted physician. Please be
certain to consult with your doctor before making any decisions that affect your health,
particularly if you suffer from any medical condition or have any symptom that may require
treatment.
Copyright � 2013 by Novak Djokovic
All rights reserved.
Published in the United States by Zinc Ink, an imprint of The Random House Publishing Group, a
division of Random House LLC, New York, a Penguin Random House Company.
BALLANTINE and the HOUSE colophon are registered trademarks of Random House LLC.
ZINC INK is a trademark of David Zinczenko.
eISBN: 978-0-34554899-3
www.ballantinebooks.com
Jacket design: Joseph Heroun
Jacket photograph: Richard Phibbs
Clothing by Uniqlo
www.uniqlo.com
v3.1
We make a living by what we get, but we make a life by what we give.
--Winston Churchill
CONTENTS
Cover
Title Page
Copyright
Epigraph
Foreword by William Davis, M.D.
Introduction: The Diet That Transformed Me
1. Backhands and Bomb Shelters
2. The Sweet Taste of Victory
3. How Opening My Mind Changed My Body
4. What's Slowing You Down?
5. Serve to Win
6. Training for the Mind
7. Training for the Body
8. The Champion's Plate
Afterword
Dedication
Acknowledgments
Appendix: The Good Food Guide
About the Author
FOREWORD
PEAK HUMAN PERFORMANCE: That is what Novak Djokovic has accomplished
in the world of tennis. Only a select few achieve this level in any field,
and it takes a culmination of talent, courage, and determination--plus
the removal of all impediments--to do so.
It's the aim of all human endeavors, from quantum physics to
computer programming to tennis. For most of us, peak performance
proves elusive, given the physical and emotional barriers placed in our
way that impede achieving the true height of human body-and-mind
potential.
Novak Djokovic has overcome overwhelming odds to achieve his
exalted place in tennis history. He managed to obtain training
experience in Serbia, a country in which tennis was virtually unknown.
He maintained his demanding training discipline while his home city of
Belgrade was under siege during the War of Kosovo, his family finding
refuge in a bomb shelter for months on end. And yet, despite the hurdles
he had to conquer, one thing nearly felled this champion. That thing was
modern wheat.
Watching him in his 2010 Australian Open quarterfinal match against
Jo-Wilfried Tsonga, you couldn't help but sense that something was
impeding Djokovic's ability to stay at the top of his game: a mishit here,
a millisecond of mistiming there, a wince with a tough return, and a
medical timeout in the fourth set during which he appeared to be in
visible abdominal discomfort. The result was defeat after several hours
of struggle. His 2012 Australian Open final match against Rafael Nadal
was an entirely different story: Djokovic was smooth, confident, and in
control of the game--in a word, brilliant. How was this transformation
possible? Simple. Djokovic removed the barriers to peak mental and
physical performance by doing precisely the opposite of what
conventional nutritional advice repeatedly tells us: He removed "healthy
whole grains" from his diet.
As a result, he won three Grand Slam tournaments in 2011 (the
Australian Open, Wimbledon, and the US Open), won an astonishing 50
out of 51 tournaments over 12 months, and earned the number one
ranking for men's tennis in the world. His performance that year even
astounded other top players, moving Rafael Nadal to declare that
Djokovic's playing represented "the highest level of tennis that I ever
saw."
How can removing a ubiquitous component of the human diet--wheat
is found in virtually all processed foods--catapult an athlete's
performance to new heights, allowing him to express his full mental and
physical potential? That is precisely the question that I have devoted the
last several years of my career to understanding: Why does modern
wheat, the product of genetic manipulations by geneticists and
agribusiness, potentially impair mental and physical performance,
regardless of talent, ability, or drive?
I've seen it do so to staggering degrees. Modern wheat is capable of
ruining digestive health, causing conditions ranging from acid reflux to
ulcerative colitis and other forms of abdominal distress. It can trigger
inflammation (common joint stiffness and pain) and autoimmune
conditions (rheumatoid arthritis and Hashimoto's thyroiditis). It can
unmask or worsen psychiatric conditions such as paranoia or
schizophrenia and trigger behavioral outbursts and learning impairment
in children with autistic spectrum disorder. It can cause weight gain,
particularly in the abdomen, via its unique appetite-stimulating effect,
making even athletes who train hours each day overweight. It can
impair sports performance by provoking any of these and many other
conditions, topped off with mind "fog," fatigue, and distortions of
hormonal status, ultimately triggering a physical and emotional roller
coaster that can strike anyone, anytime.
It struck Mr. Djokovic at that match against Tsonga in 2010--a match
he knew he should have won.
As the father of a professional tennis player daughter, I can only begin
to appreciate the extraordinary time and effort devoted to climbing to
the top of the tennis world. Of all the hurdles one must face to achieve
one's physical and mental peak, how can a simple nutritional misstep get
in the way? Because eating wheat has always been the status quo, even
at the lofty heights of the professional sports world, where it has the
potential to cripple performance, cloud mental focus, and bring a
champion to his knees.
It is a new age in sports performance. It is a new age in transforming
ourselves in all spheres of life. It is a new age in rejecting the common
advice to consume more "healthy whole grains." Mr. Djokovic's
experience is perfectly consistent with what I have observed in hundreds
of thousands, perhaps millions, of people who have followed the advice
to cut all traces of modern wheat from their diet: staggering
improvements in health and life performance.
I am thrilled that a noted public figure such as Novak Djokovic,
someone admired and trusted by millions of tennis fans, has chosen to
speak out on this issue and set a winning example of what can be
achieved through exceptional commitment and hard work, coupled with
genuine insight into maximizing performance through diet.
William Davis, M.D.
www.wheatbellyblog.com
Author of the #1 New York Times bestseller Wheat Belly:
Lose the Wheat, Lose the Weight, and Find Your Path
Back to Health and the New York Times bestseller
Wheat Belly Cookbook
The Diet That TINraTnRsOfoDrUmCeTdIOMNe
FROM THE BRINK OF FAILURE TO THE
CHAMPION OF THE WORLD--IN 18 MONTHS
JUST AS I WAS REACHING for the top, I hit bottom.
I was nineteen years old, an unknown kid from a war-torn country
who had suddenly burst onto the professional scene. I was on a nine-
match winning streak and poised to take a commanding lead in the final
round of the 2006 Croatia Open. The stadium crowd was on my side; my
team was cheering me on.
And yet I couldn't hear them. All I could hear was the roaring in my
head. All I could feel was pain. Something was pinching my nose closed,
bear-hugging my chest, pouring concrete into my legs.
I looked across the net at my opponent, Stanislas Wawrinka. I looked
into the stands, where my mother sat. And then, suddenly, gravity
sucked me backward onto the red clay court, and I was looking up at the
open Croatian sky, my chest heaving. The Curse--the mysterious force
that sapped my strength without warning--had closed in on me once
more.
No matter how hard I inhaled, the air would not come.
My father, Srdjan, ran out onto the court and, with a doctor, lifted me
up by my arms and sat me down in my courtside chair. I looked up at
my mother, sobbing in the stands, and I knew. This tournament was
over. And maybe my life's dream was over, too.
Most people don't decide what they want from life when they're six
years old, but I had. Thirteen years earlier, sitting in the tiny living room
over my parents' pizza parlor in the remote mountain town of Kopaonik
in rural Serbia, I watched Pete Sampras win Wimbledon, and I knew:
One day that would be me.
I'd never played tennis. No one I knew played tennis. In Serbia, tennis
was as obscure a sport as, say, fencing. And the glamour of London was
about as far as you could get from the desolate little resort town where
my family lived. Yet at that very moment, I knew what I wanted more
than anything: I wanted to lift the Wimbledon Cup over my head, hear
the crowd cheer, and know I had become the number one player in the
world.
My parents had bought me a little rainbow-colored racquet and some
Wiffle balls when I was four, and I would entertain myself for hours,
hitting the balls against the wall of the restaurant. But from the moment
I saw Sampras that day, I knew. And for the next thirteen years, I gave
every day of my life to reaching my goal. My family, who made
countless sacrifices; my friends who supported me from the beginning;
my trainers and coaches and fans--they all came together to get me as
close to my life's dream as possible.
But there was something about me that was broken, unhealthy, unfit.
Some called it allergies, some called it asthma, some just called it being
out of shape. But no matter what we called it, no one knew how to fix it.
It wasn't the first time I'd collapsed in a big tournament. A year
earlier, ranked just 153rd in the world, I shocked 8th-seed Guillermo
Coria by taking the first set of our match in my very first French Open
appearance. But by the third set, my legs had turned to rock and I
couldn't breathe, and finally I resigned. "Obviously, he was tired after a
while," Coria remarked afterward. "When you're fit, you ought to be
able to play a long match in hot weather."
Three months later, in the opening round of my first US Open, playing
against Gael Monfils, I literally collapsed on the court. I lay on my back
like a beached whale in the humid 80-degree heat, laboring for breath,
waiting for a trainer. After four embarrassing time-outs, I managed to
win that match, but I was booed off the court, and my lack of fitness was
the talk of the tournament. "Maybe he ought to change some things,"
Monfils suggested.
I tried. In professional tennis today, the slightest change in your skill
level, your physical conditioning, or your mindset makes all the
difference. I practiced every morning and every afternoon, I lifted
weights, I biked or ran for hours at a stretch every single day. It made no
sense that I was unfit. I changed trainers, looking for a new workout
regimen. I changed coaches, thinking that something in my technique
would free me from this curse. I had nasal surgery, hoping that would
allow me to breathe more freely. Each change helped, a little; season by
season, I grew a little stronger and fitter. In 2007, I became only the
second player to beat both Roger Federer and Rafael Nadal since their
ascent to the top of the game.
Yet every time I took a big step toward my dream, I felt as though a
rope were around my torso, pulling me back. Professional tennis is one
continuous, eleven-month-long season, and the key to consistency is
being able to recover quickly from one match to the next. I'd win one
tournament, then collapse unexpectedly in the next; win one epic match,
then retire in the middle of the following round.
Maybe my problem wasn't physical, but mental: I took up meditation,
then yoga, trying to calm my mind. My training became obsessive: For
fourteen hours a day, every single day, I did nothing but focus on
improving my mental and physical game. And in the process, I became
one of the top ten tennis players in the world.
But I had a dream, and it wasn't to be one of the best. There were two
men in the world who were the best--Federer and Nadal--and to them, I
was nothing but an occasional annoyance, one who might quit at any
moment when the going got tough. These guys were the elite; I was
stuck somewhere in the second tier.
I won my first Grand Slam, the Australian Open, in January of 2008--
a breakthrough. But a year later, against Andy Roddick, I once again had
to retire from the tournament. The defending champion, and I quit?!
What was wrong with me? "Cramp, bird flu, anthrax, SARS, common
cough and cold," Roddick said about me, making fun of the fact that I so
often fell ill. Even Federer, who's so quiet and gentlemanly, dismissed
me when talking to reporters: "I think he's a joke, you know, when it
comes down to his injuries."
At the end of 2009, I even moved my training camp to Abu Dhabi,
hoping that by practicing in the sizzling heat of the Persian Gulf, I'd be
better prepared for the Australian Open in Melbourne. Maybe by
acclimating myself better, I'd finally beat this thing.
And at first, it looked as though I'd finally figured it all out. By
January 27, 2010, I'd made it to the quarterfinals of the Australian
Open, handling my opposition easily along the way. Across the net in my
quarterfinal match was Jo-Wilfried Tsonga, the tenth-ranked tennis
player in the world. I was ranked number three. Two years earlier to the
day, I'd beaten him on this very court on my way to winning my first
Grand Slam tournament at age twenty-one. And on this day, I needed to
be just as good. No, better.
Tsonga is two hundred pounds of pure muscle, one of the biggest and
strongest players in the game, and his serve comes in at 140 miles an
hour. When he puts his body weight into a return, the ball comes in
"heavy," with a combination of speed and topspin that feels like it could
knock the racquet right out of your hand. And yet he moves with great
quickness around the court. On this day, in his neon yellow T-shirt, he
looked as big as the sun, and just as relentless. He had taken the first set,
7�6, after a punishing tiebreaker that drove the crowd to their feet over
and over again.
But by the second set, my obsessive preparation finally started to take
over. I took that set, 7�6, and then I began to control him, running him
back and forth along the baseline. The singles court is twenty-seven feet
from side to side, and I could cover that distance as well as anyone.
I took the third set easily, 6�1. I had him.
And then it happened, again. With Tsonga up 1�0 in the fourth set, the
invisible force attacked. I couldn't breathe. When he took the next game,
something rose up in my throat; I pleaded with the chair umpire for a
toilet break. I didn't want my opponent to see what I was about to do.
I raced into the locker room, burst into a stall, and fell to my knees.
Gripping the side of the toilet bowl, my stomach in spasms, I felt as
though I were vomiting up all of my strength.
When I walked back onto the court, I was a different player.
Tsonga knew my body was breaking down, and holding serve, he
could run me back and forth across the court like a toy. I felt the crowd
shift to his side, and his serve seemed faster, heavier--or maybe I was
slower, weaker. It was as though I were playing against a giant. More
than once, his shots left my feet stuck to the blue Plexicushion surface; I
simply couldn't move them. He took the fourth set, 6�3.
By the start of the fifth set, it was clear to everyone in the park how
this match would turn out. Serving 0�40, with Tsonga up 3�1, I hit the
lowest point of my career. It was break point, in more ways than one.
I had to deliver a perfect serve, knock him off balance, regain some
control. If there was one chance for me to battle back, I needed to make
this serve the best of the hundreds of thousands I'd hit in my lifetime.
Bounce, bounce. I tossed the ball in the air. I tried to expand my torso
to get full extension, but my entire chest felt tight. It was as though I
were swinging Thor's hammer instead of a tennis racquet.
My body was broken.
Fault.
My mind was broken. Bounce, bounce. Serve.
Double-fault.
Game, Tsonga.
The end came quickly and mercifully, like an execution. After shaking
hands at midcourt, he danced around the park, urging on the crowd, full
of power and energy. I was drained. Seventeen years of practicing every
single day, and yet I did not feel physically or mentally strong enough to
be on the same court with the game's best.
I had the skills, the talent, the drive. I had the resources to try every
kind of mental and physical training known to man, and access to the
finest doctors in the world. What was really holding me back was
something I'd never have suspected. I was training and practicing right.
But I was eating all wrong.
The Diet That Changed My Life
My professional low was that double-fault on January 27, 2010.
And yet, by July 2011--just eighteen months later--I was a different
man. Eleven pounds lighter, stronger than ever, and healthier than I'd
been since early childhood, I achieved my two life goals: to win
Wimbledon and to be named the number one tennis player in the world.
As I watched a last, desperate backhand from Rafael Nadal land long to
give me the Wimbledon Cup, I saw myself as that six-year-old boy again,
the one who came from nothing, innocently grasping at an impossible
dream.
I fell to the ground. I threw my hands in the air. I crouched down,
pulled some of the grass from the Wimbledon court, and ate it.
It tasted like sweat. My sweat. But I'd never tasted anything so sweet.
It wasn't a new training program that took me from being a very good
player to the best player in the world in just eighteen months. It wasn't a
new racquet, a new workout, a new coach, or even a new serve that
helped me lose weight, find mental focus, and enjoy the best health of
my life.
It was a new diet.
My life had changed because I had begun to eat the right foods for my
body, in the way that my body demanded. In the first three months of
my new diet, I dropped from 181 pounds to 172--my family and friends
even began to worry that I was getting too skinny. But I felt fresher,
more alert, and more energetic than I had in my life. I was faster, more
flexible, and able to get to balls other players couldn't, yet I was still as
strong as I'd ever been, and my mental focus was unshakable. I never felt
tired or out of breath. My allergies abated; my asthma disappeared; my
fears and doubts were replaced by confidence. I have not had a serious
cold or flu in nearly three years.
Some sportswriters have called my 2011 season the greatest single
year ever by a professional tennis player. I won ten titles, three Grand
Slams, and forty-three consecutive matches. And the only thing I'd
changed was what I was eating.
What amazed me the most was how simple these changes were to
make, and how dramatic the results were. All I did was eliminate gluten
--the protein found in wheat--for a few days, and my body instantly felt
better. I was lighter, quicker, clearer in mind and spirit. After two weeks,
I knew that my life had changed. I made a few more tweaks--cutting
down on sugar, cutting out dairy--and I could tell the moment I woke
up each morning that I was different than I had been, maybe since
childhood. I sprang out of bed, ready to tear into the day ahead. And I
realized that I had to share what I'd learned with others.
You do not have to be a professional athlete to make the simple
nutritional adjustments outlined in this book, and you certainly don't
have to be a tennis pro for them to improve your body, your health, and
your outlook on life.
In fact, what I'm going to share with you isn't a diet in the strict sense
of the word, because that implies that you're only going to eat exactly
what I tell you to eat. That wouldn't make sense. Most diet programs
assume the same plan works for everyone and that you "must" eat
certain foods, whether you're a 27-year-old tennis player, a 35-year-old
mother of two, or a 50-year-old executive vice president. That's silly.
"Must" just isn't a good word. Your body is an entirely different machine
from mine. Look at your fingertips: Your prints are unlike anyone else's
in the world. This is proof that your body is different from anyone else's
in the world. I don't want you to eat the best diet for my body. I'm going
to show you how to find the best diet for your own unique self.
Simple Changes, Big Results
If you've been exercising to get fit, control your weight, and improve
your energy, you've probably already figured something out: It's really
hard.
I'm proof of that. For my entire career, I've played tennis for three to
five hours almost every single day. I've competed in as many as ninety-
seven professional tennis matches a year against the greatest players in
the game. On days when I'm not playing, I still practice on the tennis
court more than three hours, work out for another ninety minutes in the
weight room, do a yoga or tai chi session, and, if I can, fit in some
running, biking, or kayaking as well. And yet even with that training
schedule, I was slow, easily winded, and a little overweight. My point is,
if you think you're just going to exercise away your troubles, you'd
better think again. I was training at least five hours a day, every single
day, and I still wasn't fit enough. Was I carrying an extra nine pounds
because I wasn't exercising enough?
No. I was heavy, slow, and tired because I was eating the way most of
us eat. I ate like a Serb (and an American)--plenty of Italian food like
pizza, pasta, and especially bread, as well as heavy meat dishes at least a
couple of times a day. I snacked on candy bars and other sugary foods
during matches, thinking they would help to keep my energy up, and
figured my training schedule had earned me a handful off every cookie
tray that passed by. But what I didn't realize was that eating this way
causes a phenomenon called inflammation. Basically, your body reacts to
food it doesn't like by sending you signals: stuffiness, achy joints,
cramping bowels. Doctors have linked inflammation to everything from
asthma to arthritis to heart disease and Alzheimer's.
Imagine you're hammering a nail into a plank of wood, and you
accidentally hit your thumb. It hurts, right? Your thumb gets swollen
and red and angry. That's inflammation. Now imagine that occurring
inside your body, where you can't see it. That's what happens when we
eat foods our bodies don't like. When I fell apart at the Australian Open,
my body was telling me that I was beating myself up from the inside out.
I had to learn to listen to it.
Once I did, everything changed. And I don't mean just my tennis
career. My entire life changed. You could call it magic--it sure felt like
magic. But it was nothing more than trying different foods to find the
ones that worked for me, and applying that knowledge to my daily diet.
Bottom line: I figured out which foods hurt me and which helped. It's
not that difficult; I'll show you how (see chapter 4). Once you know the
correct foods to eat, when to eat them, and how to maximize the
benefits, you'll have a blueprint for remaking your body, and your life.
Here's how it works. You start by eliminating gluten from your diet for
two weeks. (This is simpler than you think, as you'll read a little later
on.) After that, you attack the excess sugar and dairy in your diet for two
weeks, and see how you feel. (Here's a hint: You'll feel great.)
But changing what you eat isn't the end of it. You'll also learn to
change the way you eat. You'll learn to sync your food with your body's
needs, giving it exactly what it wants, when it wants it. And you'll learn
how combining the right diet with proper stress-control techniques will
improve the function of your body and your mind. You'll become more
relaxed, more focused, more in control of your life.
In fact, what really inspired me to write this book is knowing that I
can show you how to change not just your body but your whole
experience of living--in just fourteen days. You will wake up more easily
and feel more energetic, and you'll begin to see a difference in your
appearance. Soon you'll be able to listen to your body, follow its
cravings, and understand what it wants you to avoid.
Make no mistake: Your body will tell you different things than mine
tells me. We're all different--we all have distinct fingerprints,
remember? But the most important thing we can all do is listen.
On that day in January 2010, the tennis commentators thought they
knew what was happening to me. "His asthma is acting up again," they
said. And yet, as I double-faulted into the net, unable to breathe, I
couldn't possibly know that I was experiencing something very different.
Since the age of thirteen I'd felt constantly stuffy, especially at night. I
would wake up groggy, and it would take me a long time to get going. I
was always tired. I felt bloated, even when I was training three times a
day.
I had allergies, and on days when it was humid or the flowers were in
full bloom, they would be worse. Yet what was happening to me didn't
make sense. Asthma strikes as soon as you start to exercise; it doesn't
come on three hours into a match. And my problem couldn't be
conditioning. I worked as hard as anyone on the circuit. Yet in the big
matches, against the best players, I would hold my own through the first
few sets, then collapse.
But I wasn't a hypochondriac, or an asthmatic, or an athlete who just
folded when the matches got tough. I was a man who was eating the
wrong way. And my life was about to change. Who knew that the lowest
point in my career would turn out to be the luckiest?
By sheer coincidence, a nutritionist from my home country of Serbia,
Dr. Igor Cetojevic, happened to be flipping through the channels at his
home in Cyprus when he came across my match in the Australian Open.
He was no fan of tennis, but his wife liked the game, and she suggested
they sit and watch. And they saw me collapse.
He knew it wasn't asthma. Something else was wrong with me. And
the answer, he guessed, was food. More specifically, he guessed that my
breathing issues were the result of an imbalance in my digestive system
that was causing a buildup of toxins in my intestines. Which is a heck of
a diagnosis to make from 8,700 miles away.
Dr. Cetojevic and my father had mutual friends--Serbia is a small
country, after all--and six months after my disgrace in Australia, we
arranged to meet during a Davis Cup match in Croatia. Dr. Cetojevic told
me he thought food sensitivities were not only the cause of my physical
breakdown but were playing a role in my mental state as well. He said
that he could give me the guidelines that would help me create my own
diet--the right diet for my body. He asked me about how I ate, how I
slept, how I lived, and how I had grown up.
As a fellow Serb, Dr. Cetojevic could understand as well as anyone
what my early life was like--what my family once had, what we'd lost,
what we'd struggled so hard to overcome. A boy like me, growing up in
Serbia, becoming a tennis champion? It was unlikely in even the best of
circumstances.
And it became even more unlikely when the bombs started dropping.
Backhands and BomCHbASPhTeEltRer1s
NOT EVERY TENNIS CHAMPION IS FORGED
IN THE COUNTRY CLUBS OF THE WEALTHY
A LOUD BOOM SHOOK my bed, and the sound of shattering glass seemed to
come from everywhere around me. I opened my eyes, but it did almost
nothing to change my perspective. The entire apartment was inky
darkness.
Another explosion and then, as though they'd also been shaken awake,
the air raid sirens kicked in, and the loud black night became even
louder with their screams.
It was as though we were living inside a snow globe and someone had
hurled it to the floor.
"Nole! Nole!" My father cried out for me, using the nickname my
family has called me since I was a toddler. "Your brothers!" My mother,
leaping out of bed at the sound of the explosion, had slipped, fallen
backward, and hit her head against the radiator. My father was trying to
support her as she fought her way back to consciousness. But where
were my brothers?
Marko was eight. Djordje was four. At eleven, I was the big brother,
and I'd been holding myself responsible for their safety ever since NATO
forces started bombing my hometown of Belgrade.
The bombings came as a surprise to us. In my youth, Serbia was still
being ruled as a communist dictatorship, and very little information
about what was really going on reached the general public. There had
been rumors that NATO might attack, but no one knew for certain. Even
as our government prepared for the bombings, we were kept in the dark.
Still, the rumors had spread, and like most families in Belgrade, we
had a plan. Three hundred meters away, my aunt's family lived in a
building with a bomb shelter. If we could make it there, we'd be safe.
Another soaring screech sounded overhead, and another explosion
rocked our building. My mother had regained her senses, and we
scrambled down the stairs and out into the unlit streets of Belgrade. The
city was in total darkness, and with the air raid sirens blasting, we could
barely see or hear. My parents raced down the pitch-black streets with
my brothers in their arms, and I was right behind them--until I wasn't.
My foot hit something, and I stumbled forward into the shadows.
I sprawled face-first onto the pavement, scraping my hands and knees.
Lying on the cold concrete, I was suddenly alone.
"Mama! Papa!" I cried out, but they couldn't hear me. I saw their
forms growing smaller and dimmer, disappearing into the night.
And then it happened. From behind me, I heard something tearing
open the sky, as though an enormous snow shovel were scraping ice off
the clouds. Still sprawled on the ground, I turned and looked back at our
home.
Rising up from over the roof of our building came the steel gray
triangle of an F-117 bomber. I watched in horror as its great metal belly
opened directly above me, and two laser-guided missiles dropped out of
it, taking aim at my family, my friends, my neighborhood--everything
I'd ever known.
What happened next would never leave me. Even today, loud sounds
fill me with fear.
A Most Unlikely Meeting
Before the NATO bombing, my childhood was magic.
There is magic in all childhoods, but mine seemed especially blessed. I
was blessed on that day when I saw Pete Sampras win Wimbledon and
set my heart on following in his footsteps. But even more, I was blessed
when, in the same year, the inconceivable happened: The government
decided to build a tennis academy in the little mountain resort of
Kopaonik, across the street from where my parents ran the Red Bull
pizza parlor.
Kopaonik was a ski town, but it was where my family would summer
to escape the heat of Belgrade. My family has always been athletic--my
---
[Cuối tài liệu]
Tomatoes
Yes, tomatoes are fruits. I have a mild sensitivity to them, but I still
enjoy them occasionally, as long as they are fresh and not processed (I
eat only tomato sauce made from fresh tomatoes, for example).
Lycopene, the phytochemical that makes tomatoes red, helps eliminate
skin-aging free radicals caused by ultraviolet rays.
Avocado
Here's another fruit usually listed in the vegetable section. Avocadoes
may be my favorite food. Big flavor, big fiber, big nutrition. And you can
do so much with a fresh avocado. It is very high in healthy,
monounsaturated fats.
WHEAT-ALTERNATIVE GRAINS
Many supermarkets now have gluten-free sections, and of course, you
can always order dried pastas, crackers, and other products over the
Internet. There are some very good wheat-alternative grains available
these days. If you've never tried them, I suggest seeking them out and
experimenting. I most often go with quinoa, buckwheat, brown rice, and
oats. Quinoa and buckwheat make a tasty gluten-free pasta.
Quinoa
The South American grain quinoa (KEEN-wah) has about twice as much
fiber and protein as brown rice, and its protein consists of a complete set
of branch chain and essential amino acids, so it helps build muscle better
than other grains. All that protein and fiber--in conjunction with a
handful of healthy fats and a comparatively small dose of carbohydrates
--lower the insulin response. Quinoa also tastes great and cooks up in 15
minutes.
Oats (instant, old-fashioned, and steel-cut)
Instant (and one-minute) oatmeal is basically rolled oats cut up to cook
faster. Old-fashioned oatmeal consists of groats (the actual grains) rolled
into flakes; it takes about five minutes to cook. Steel-cut is made of
groats that are cut up but not rolled; it takes a half hour to cook. Oats
are one of the easiest ways to get more fiber into your diet and contain
lots of protein, too. I like steel-cut because the pure grain doesn't raise
your blood sugar as much as the more processed varieties. Watch out for
supermarket brands that add tons of sugar. Best to have it plain with
some fruit or nuts.
Brown Rice
Plain brown rice is what I call a fallback food. There are other grains
that I like better for nutrition and taste, but brown rice is available
everywhere and works when other favorites (like quinoa or gluten-free
pasta) aren't available. It delivers a strong dose of minerals and fiber and
is a good vehicle for other foods (and I'm sure I don't have to tell you to
sub it in for white rice, right?).
Buckwheat
I love buckwheat pasta. And buckwheat itself is strong stuff. One ounce
has 3 grams of fiber and 4 grams of protein, plus minerals such as
copper, magnesium, and manganese. A lot of these gluten-free grains
have become staples in my diet, with buckwheat one of the biggest.
Millet
Millet is a gluten-free grain from Asia that's nutritionally comparable to
wheat: An ounce has 2 grams of fiber, 3 grams of protein, plus B
vitamins, calcium, and iron. I've seen millet used as a wheat substitute in
oatmeal muffins, cereal, and even stuffed tomatoes.
Muesli
Muesli, a combination of rolled oats, dried fruits, and nuts, originally
came from Switzerland. I use it almost every day as an ingredient in my
Power Bowl. A cup pushes 300 calories, but that's the point: It's a
foundation of my morning diet. It has a huge payoff with fiber and
protein, plus vitamins B and E, iron, and more.
Shirataki
This isn't a grain, but it seems to fit here. Shirataki is a low-or no-carb
noodle from Asia that's translucent and made from the root of the Asian
konjac yam. Researchers in Thailand found that just 1 gram has the
power to significantly slow the absorption of sugar into your
bloodstream. They have no real flavor, but they will soak up the flavor
of whatever food they're prepared with.
Amaranth
Amaranth is one of the most powerful grains, nutrition-wise. It's gluten-
free, for one, and higher in fiber and protein than wheat and brown rice.
It's loaded with vitamins and has been shown in studies to help lower
blood pressure and cholesterol. Also, it's a muscle builder, since it's one
of the few grains that contain "complete" proteins, i.e., all eight essential
amino acids.
Teff
Teff comes from Ethiopia. There are brown and ivory varieties, and I
find the brown to be more flavorful--both sweet and nutty. A cup has 6
grams of fiber and 10 grams of protein, as well as plenty of minerals. It's
easy to prepare, too: Just throw a cup in with 3 cups of boiling water
and simmer for about 20 minutes. Play with your favorite spices for taste
--teff works with just about anything.
Spaghetti squash
A vegetable, actually, but if you cut open a spaghetti squash, its insides
look like spaghetti and can even be used as a gluten-free pasta
alternative. Use it as a vehicle for other foods, because this squash isn't
that high in nutrition.
NUTS AND SEEDS
These help keep me fueled and full as my training day goes on. I have
raw, not roasted, whenever possible. It's easy to control the amount you
eat (a handful is a great snack), so they deliver protein without weighing
you down, and deliver fiber and monounsaturated fats, too. Add
almonds, pistachios, cashews, walnuts, pecans, Brazil nuts, macadamia
nuts, peanuts, flaxseed, sunflower seeds, pumpkin seeds, sesame seeds,
hemp seeds, or chia seeds to salads, cereals, or even smoothies.
HEALTHY OILS (FATS)
Without fat, your body can't absorb most vitamins. I use oils sparingly.
Here are the ones I do eat.
Olive Oil
The go-to oil. By now you must know about the healthy fats in olive oil.
Extra-virgin has a robust flavor and is most expensive, so people
generally use it for salad dressings, vegetables, and dipping (though
everyone loves bread dipped in olive oil, I've had to give that up).
Lighter olive oil is good for cooking.
Canola Oil
Great for frying and saut�ing if olive oil isn't an option. Canola oil can
withstand relatively high heat, and its neutral flavor won't dominate a
recipe. Just be careful: Don't confuse canola with generic "vegetable oil,"
which is cheaper and usually made from soybean or corn oil. Those oils
have high levels of omega-6 fatty acids. These polyunsaturated fats
aren't bad when they're balanced with plenty of omega-3 fatty acids, like
the ones found in fish--and canola oil. Basically, omega-6s can cause
inflammation in your body, and omega-3s have anti-inflammatory
properties, so you want to balance them out as much as possible.
Coconut oil
Some people are scared off by the saturated fat in coconut oil, thinking
that it raises cholesterol. It does, but the lauric acid in the oil has been
shown to raise HDL (good cholesterol). On top of that, studies have
shown coconut oil to be an immune-system booster that can also help
the body use insulin more effectively. The "oil" doesn't look like regular
oils in that it comes as a solid, like shortening (without the trans fats).
I've seen people drop a teaspoon in coffee and it also works well in
smoothies and as a shortening substitute in baking.
Flaxseed oil
Flaxseed oil is high in alpha-linolenic acid, which is an anti-
inflammatory and can help lower your cholesterol. I like it because it's a
healthier oil than most out there and our bodies can't produce the
essential fatty acids in the oil by themselves.
Nut butters
Peanut butter is very healthy, as long as it has only one ingredient:
peanuts. So check the label to make sure there's no added sugar, salt, or
palm oil. Other nut butters, particularly almond butter, are even
healthier choices.
Avocado, walnut, and hazelnut oils
Perfect for salad dressings or mixing into foods, they add great flavor
and a hit of monounsaturated fats.
DAIRY SUBSTITUTES
Be wary of "non-dairy creamers" and other chemical concoctions.
They're often high in sugar and unhealthy fats. If you're going to cut out
dairy, look for these alternatives to milk, yogurt, and ice cream: almond
milk, coconut milk, rice milk, hazelnut milk. I generally avoid soy milk
because of its high concentration of soy isolates, which have estrogenic
properties--in other words, it's bad for your muscles and can lead to fat
storage.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Novak Djokovic is a Serbian tennis player who is ranked World No. 1 by
the Association of Tennis Professionals. He is widely considered to be
one of the greatest tennis players of all time.
novakdjokovic.com