Dr. Robert Atkins was among the earliest and loudest voices to challenge nutritional orthodoxy. 

Long before low-carb became a cultural flashpoint, Atkins argued that carbohydrates — not fat — drive insulin secretion, and that insulin is the key hormonal regulator of fat storage. Refined and high-glycemic carbohydrates rapidly elevate blood glucose, triggering corresponding spikes in insulin. 

Fat, by contrast, does not.

On this basis, Atkins rejected the calories-in, calories-out model, insisting that not all calories are metabolically equivalent. 

A calorie from carbohydrate behaves very differently in the body than a calorie from fat. The former raises insulin and promotes fat storage; the latter does not. This idea alone was enough to brand him a heretic.

Another prominent dissenter was Dr. Jason Fung, author of The Obesity Code, who distilled the argument even further: insulin is the fat-storage hormone. 

Whenever glucose — and therefore insulin — is elevated, fat burning is effectively switched off. Conversely, when glucose is controlled and fasting insulin remains low, the body becomes remarkably efficient at burning fat. 

In Fung’s framing, obesity is not a problem of excess calories, but of hormonal dysregulation.

Investigative journalist Gary Taubes took this challenge beyond medicine and into the foundations of nutritional science itself. In a trilogy of bestselling books — Good Calories, Bad Calories (2007), Why We Get Fat (2010), and The Case Against Sugar (2016), Taubes applied the tools of investigative reporting to diet and epidemiology. His conclusion was unsettling: decades of dietary advice were built largely on weak observational studies, confirmation bias, and institutional momentum rather than robust experimental evidence.

Taubes questioned the central assumption that dietary fat causes obesity and heart disease, showing instead how sugar and refined carbohydrates better explained rising rates of chronic disease. His work relied heavily on primary sources — often older, overlooked metabolic ward studies — rather than consensus summaries. 

He also documented how political pressures, funding incentives, and institutional inertia shaped public dietary guidelines. Controversial as he was, Taubes succeeded in reopening a debate many believed had been settled.

A similar reckoning came from another investigative journalist, Nina Teicholz, author of The Big Fat Surprise (2014). Teicholz examined the scientific and political history behind low-fat dietary advice and concluded that recommendations to limit saturated fat were never supported by strong randomized controlled trial evidence, yet became entrenched in public policy.

More troubling were her findings on conflicts of interest. 

Teicholz reported that an overwhelming majority of members of the US Dietary Guidelines Advisory Committee had financial relationships with food and pharmaceutical companies. Many maintained ties to major processed-food manufacturers, while others received research funding from industry trade groups. 

In her account, the low-fat paradigm persisted less because it was correct than because it was institutionally protected.

All of this raises an obvious question — especially since this is a column about running: What does any of this matter to ordinary athletes like me?

Dr. Tim Noakes addressed that question directly in Lore of Nutrition. 

Noakes challenged the long-standing doctrine that athletes must consume high levels of carbohydrates to perform well. He argued instead that fat oxidation — not constant carbohydrate replenishment — is the superior fuel source for endurance performance. Glycogen stores are limited and deplete quickly, necessitating frequent sugar intake. Fat stores, by contrast, represent a virtually inexhaustible energy reserve.

According to Noakes, training the body to become fat-adapted allows athletes to rely less on glycogen and avoid the dreaded “wall” associated with carbohydrate depletion. For endurance athletes, this metabolic flexibility can mean greater stability, fewer crashes, and sustained performance over long distances.

To this day, people are surprised to learn that I have run multiple marathons without consuming a single energy gel. But my goal in most races has never been speed — it has been endurance. Without the need for sugar spikes, I simply keep moving.

These figures — Atkins, Fung, Taubes, Teicholz and Noakes — were not merely criticized; they were actively attacked.

Noakes was even dragged before a professional tribunal and threatened with the loss of his medical license. Yet today, with long-standing dietary dogma finally beginning to shift, their once-heretical views look increasingly prescient.

There is now a growing movement — not just low-carb, but even zero-carb — championed by clinicians and researchers who were once dismissed outright. Orthodoxy, it turns out, does not always age well.