LSD is also an abbreviation for Long Slow
Distance, a method of running known for its relaxed and gentle approach to training.
The concept originated in the 1920's with Arthur Newton, a British marathoner living in South Africa. Dissatisfied with the training philosphies of his time which stressed fast running over short distances, Newton began running longer and longer distances at a more relaxed pace.
His guidelines for training boiled down to this:
- You must run as frequently as you possible can.
- You must never allow yourself to approach real exhaustion.
That's it.
Newton had won the 1922 55-mile Comrades Marathon in 8:40. Using his new approach and running roughly 17 miles a day six days a week, he crushed this personal best, breaking the seven-hour barrier in 6:56.
Long slow distance was popularized in 1969 by former Runner's World magazine editor Joe Henderson in his books Long Slow Distance: The Humane Way to Train and The Long Run Solution. (The latter is one of the few books I
would enter a burning house to retrieve.)
Henderson maintains that LSD is not so much a training method as it is a way to enjoy running. The easy, stress-free daily run is an end in itself. Hop out of bed, step into running shoes, head out the door for the better part of an hour and feel a gazillion times better, at least fully awake.
As it relates to its chemical namesake, LSD can indeed induce both euphoria and slight hallucinations. I can vouch for this.
On one run in particular along hilly canopy roads in north
Florida, I ran with a horse for a few miles, and cool sun showers from the inside of a green breathing stained-glass cathedral washed me of sweat. I left the road and broke some trail, stopping at a clearing overlooking a small lake
surrounded by prehistoric trees and thick underbrush. A blue mist rose from everything.
I then noticed that the mist rose also from me. It danced with the constant outward breath of every living thing around me. As I inhaled, I absorbed it. As I exhaled, it absorbed me. The division between me and the universe disappeared. My skin turned to vapor then vanished in a breeze.
Electric and naked, I bounded through fields a thousand yards at a time. Rain fell from leaves like crystal kisses from loving tongues as I broke more trail and found myself back on the road. It took me an hour at a good but effortless pace to get back home, the sun in the trees pouring gold on to
puddles.
When I stopped in front of my house, my wife and new baby snoozing inside, I felt as if I had returned from an enlightening trip. My body hummed, each muscle simultaneously felt stressed and massaged. My mind swam with the effects of a few hours on the roads. I got a few gulps of water from
the hose. Three herons glided across a fading eastern sky, and I could not help laughing.