LSD trip

I recently got in touch with my coach to ask his advice for the weeks ahead, he insisted it was time for my first LSD trip.

Looking at some heartrates I had recorden, he said I had trained too fast. To get the resilience for longer distances up, and other long distance benefits he suggested some Long Slow Distances (LSD)

A brief return of winter with daily blizzards had giving me the excuse for procrastination, until today. The run started badly, with not finding a rhythm and stitches from early on and from a good while. Continued negotiations with myself (“Enough! I’ll turn back” “A bit more would be doable.”) took me my previous frontier, the edge of Loch Glass.

Here the route was nice and even (as well as dry), so I went on another few km. Without warning (I did not expect one anyway) the path suddenly disappeared, with little streams now trickling downhill beneath me and deep mud accumulating on my shoes and legs.

fun bump at 15k …up and onward through the frozen bog

Either shoe had almost been stuck in the bog several times, my feet were now soaked, but I thought I’d better avoid going back the same way. That decision was not taken with a particularly clear mind and it turned out to be leading to more of the same, but colder.

After a very steep climb, at times up to 24%, and almost 400m gained, the bog was still ever present, now covered in snow. Heavy winds had piled it up waist high here and there, at least the climb was over.

At that point I occasionally swore out loud, the occasions being cramps in both calfes. Huge swirling wind turbines threw twisting shadows on the ground, their blades
cutting through the air, producing a large swooshing sound over again.

I had to stop and turn back around a few times, when the snow covered tracks led to another dead end. Eventually I “dashed” (walked) through high heather bushes covered in yet more snow. My feet were still wet, I had to clean the inside of the shoes from snow to ease the cold every few hundred metres.

At the far end of the wind park I knew my way home again. I haven’t run that far (33km) before, come late September I better do a few more of those. Coming home and having a hot shower, that thought kept me going for the last hour. The reality of it was far less pretty, it was not just the dog who seemed barely able to walk for most of the afternoon.

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All that mileage gained for no reason but to brag? My narcissism and urge to show off are pretty limited, believe it or not. Adding to a hard to explain big joy that running sparks, I hope to help do some good with it; hence the anguish, and the waffle about it all.


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