It’s true runners are crackheads, but mostly in the figurative sense. It’s also true that running can be an addiction. However, should you find yourself in the company of fleet-
feeters and overhear discussion about the benefits of using LSD, don’t be alarmed. They are not referring to the drug.
LSD, or
Long Slow Distance, is a training strategy published by
Joe Henderson in 1969. Its initial release apparently caused an uproar among elites, and its popularity has waxed and waned over the past four decades. In defense of LSD, Henderson asserted in 2003 that, “Our improvement probably didn't come from any inherent magic in slower running but because it was easier running. It let us freshen up between hard efforts and look forward to races as actual and figurative changes of pace, instead of dreading them as more of the same. In this way LSD was less a training system than a recovery system.”
Today, for mid-pack, slow-twitch muscled runners like me, it’s a strategy that works. Used wisely, LSD is a good periodic insertion in a long-term training schedule. When I do it, I intentionally—and it’s not as easy as you might think—run a minute or minute and a half slower than race pace on a long run, say, 14 miles or more. On top of that, Coaches Tom and Hobbit constantly remind us to alternate hard and easy days of training, and nearly every week we get to hear Tom hound us to remember we’re “training not racing.”
Besides being good for the body, Henderson believed LSD to be good for the soul and offered a favorite song quote as a reminder:
"Slow down, you move too fast. You've gotta make the morning last. Just kicking down the cobblestones. Looking for fun and feeling groovy."
-- Simon & Garfunkel
Soooo, besides regular LSD, I’ve been working on some alternate forms lately that deserve blog time. The first is Long Snow Distance. On February 1, I was incredibly fortunate to snag a run during a heavy snowfall
WOW.
It was late afternoon and I was planning to run anyway, as usual. I was all dressed and standing in the kitchen filling water bottles when I glanced up—out the window—and saw snowflakes. Not little pretend snowflake flurries. Big—no, huge—heavenly, softer than soft flakes.
Excitement soared inside me, making me as giddy as I used to get as a child having seen the same sight out the window. The difference is that as a kid, snow also came with a certain amount of stress, about whether or not we’d get enough snow to go sledding and then whether or not our parents would actually take us sledding.
(I lived in Oklahoma, ok? We had to drive somewhere to find a decent hill. I mean, we could make sliding down the neighbor's semi-steep driveway on old cafeteria trays last hours if we had to, but when we got lucky and our parents were in good moods, we went across town for real sledding at a country club golf course. I’m sure the golf course people loved us heathens for sledding and shredding on their manicured grasses).
So now, the only real stress that comes with snow is that I hope it won’t stay below freezing long enough for our pipes to freeze. Generally, as far as being out in the snow, just being out in it is enough to make me content. No sled stress. If I get to sled, eh. If not, eh. But if I get to RUN in it??? Yesssss.
I can’t even describe how storybook magic it felt to run through my historic neighborhood that day. Just enough snow had already fallen to blanket everything in white. It continued to come down, steadily. It wasn’t windy, so flakes fell straight down…slowly….quietly.
Almost no one was out, but a few others had the same idea as me and were out walking happy happy big dogs. We exchanged knowing grins when we passed, recognizing without speaking that we were sharing a secret winter wonderland.
The run took me out my front door, over to the Governor’s mansion, through downtown to the Clinton Library, through the River Market, down the “Medical Mile” of the Little Rock River Trail, across the Broadway Bridge into North Little Rock, through Riverfront Park, up and over the Main Street Bridge, and back through downtown to home. Total time was 1:38, so I’d guess it was around nine miles.
I sort of wish I’d taken the camera to snap pictures, but I am also sort of glad I didn’t. This memory is probably better preserved in my mind, fault-free. We all have a “happy place” inside us where we can go when we’re down. Actually, I have several, and this is a new one that I’ll treasure for a long, long time.
(I did go take a few photos later, to help remember how pleasant our streets are. Just imagine how nice this was with snow.)
The other type of LSD I’ve been “using” lately is what I’m calling Leisurely Short Distance. For the last three weeks, our team has been tapering our workouts, drastically reducing mileage to the point of ridiculous. This week called for several three- and two-mile runs. Tom said,
“At this point, you’re really not running for the aerobic benefit, but to keep the crazies from taking over your head.”
Right on. I managed to get out for an easy, slow, three-miler yesterday and today. It was quite pleasant to run my usual Hillcrest route a little backwards. Instead of coming up Kavanaugh first from the capitol, I parked at War Memorial gym and headed down Monroe, carefully across Markham, and continuing on Monroe and some other streets up to Kavanaugh. From there I headed down through Hillcrest, to the Mile 15 sign (PING), and then back.
I was dismayed, both days, about how long it took me to get loose. My feet and shins were stiff for almost the whole run. Then I recalled, duh, that it usually takes me about that long to get loose on long outings, and felt better. Both runs were followed by time in the gym’s sauna, which is a fantastic place to stretch warm muscles if it’s not too crowded.
So today was the last run. That’s it. I might work in a light swim tomorrow or Saturday, but nothing heavy at all. Maybe 500 yards to get my core and upper body loose. Tomorrow I’ll work half a day and then volunteer at the Expo / Packet Pickup. Saturday will make me crazy. I already know this. Waiting is hard.
Three days to go.
.jpg)
Last week I couldn’t resist these shots of the capitol. All was quiet on the Western front, with little indication that a major event would soon occur in this very place. A complex start and finish line operation will be built and broken down, within just a few days time, right here at the intersection of Captiol and Victory. The community will turn out by the thousands to run, walk, volunteer, and cheer. It'll be a big day in Little Rock. 
