Most people agree that running coach Joe Henderson was the first to coin the term Long Slow Distance, in sixties California where the sun always shines, and the days are warm and long. He popularised LSD running in mainstream endurance training programs. Whilst the theory was applied to running originally, it is equally applicable to all endurance events.
LSD fell out of favour for a while, but what goes around comes around, and people are turning back to LSD as a much less stressful, and often highly enjoyable way to build fitness and endurance. The secret of success for Tour De France and Monument winner Tadej Pogacar is apparently, long hours of moderate pace riding and his coach, Inego San Millan has researched the huge benefits of this way of training.
By moderate pace, the lower end of zone 2 is recommended, that is, still able to hold a conversation, but avoiding lactic build and the oxidative stress that anyone who rides a bike will be very familiar with. There is strong evidence that athletes who train at the lower end of zone 2 achieve the same training gains as they would at the upper end of the same zone, but with considerably less stress, less fatigue and far fewer injuries and therefore more consistent long term training efforts. It is almost relaxing! Plus, you recover quickly, allowing you to do it all over again the next day. What is not to like?
Your body needs to be fed and practicing getting food and drinks in, is essential. Muscles start to ache, in ways that they never do on shorter rides. This fatigue is impossible to replicate in any other way. Your precious contact points, hands, feet and of course your back side, start to react badly to the constant pressure of being in one position for hours on end.
Sometimes, I used a 100km lap that brought me back home to refill and fuel. Discipline meant a break of no longer than 10 minutes per lap, as tempting as it was to stop. The power meter became an irrelevance as I rode on feel and to the clock. Getting 300km done in less than 12 hours became my Sunday routine through late June and early July. I also had a few wonderful out and back rides and took the opportunity to ride to places way beyond my normal compass allowing me to test my sketchy navigation skills.
You learn to be kind to yourself. You become hyper-aware of how you are feeling. I would constantly scan my various body parts, checking in with myself for new aches and pains, monitoring energy levels, thirst, and hunger.
On The Long Game, we highlight stories of courage and conviction on and off the field. From athletes who are breaking barriers for women and girls to a Syrian refugee swimmer who overcame the odds to compete at the Paralympics, The Long Game examines the power of sport to change the world for the better.
On The Long Game, we highlight stories of courage and conviction on and off the field. From athletes who are breaking barriers for women and girls to a Syrian refugee swimmer who overcame the odds to compete at the Paralympics, the show examines the power of sport to change the world for the better.
Newsclip: [00:00:10] "The sudden capture of the country's capital has shocked the world and caused bedlam this morning at the Kabul airport, where thousands of Afghans are struggling to get on." [00:00:17][7.8]
Friba Rezayee: [00:00:25] Now, with all the athletes leaving the country, all the educated people are leaving the country, I have a concern that the legacy of education and the legacy of sport will leave with them. If education and sport die in a society, what will remain in the society? It will be an empty, meaningless society. [00:00:49][23.4]
Ibtihaj Muhammad: [00:00:51] From Foreign Policy and Doha Debates. This is The Long Game, a podcast about the power of sports to change the world. I'm your host, Ibtihaj Muhammad. As an African-American, as a Muslim, from birth, you are political. Sports is how I learned to advocate for myself. It's where I found my voice. And this season on The Long Game, we're going to hear from other athletes who are using their voices to create meaningful change in this world. [00:01:18][26.8]
Ibtihaj Muhammad: [00:01:25] Friba Rezayee knows what it's like to leave her country. She did it once as a child when the Taliban first took over Afghanistan. Friba returned in 2001. She started training in the sport of judo. And in 2004, she became the first woman to represent Afghanistan in the Olympics. But just a year later, Friba was forced to leave Afghanistan again. Friba spent several years in Pakistan and relocated to Canada in 2011. There, she worked tirelessly to support Afghan women in sports and education. Her mission is to help create her country's future leaders. But now that the Taliban is back in power, what's to become of Friba's dream of gender equality in Afghanistan? Here's Friba: [00:02:12][47.2]
Ibtihaj Muhammad: [00:02:17] I always believed that everybody is equal, everybody's the same, everybody should be respected. And I was a very hardheaded child during Eid - Muslim families' festival, like Christmas - my mother made a joke that we are getting new clothes for the boys, but not for the girls, just to tease me. And one of my brother confirmed that, and I slapped him very hard. And I was only five years old. I did not like being treated like that even for a second as a joke, because to me, it didn't make any sense. I was like, 'If I am born, if I exist, I should have the same rights as my brothers.". [00:03:00][43.9]
Friba Rezayee: [00:03:04] I was born in Afghanistan, in the capital of Kabul. I was born in a big family. I had three sisters and four brothers. Given the Afghan society and Afghan culture and perspective towards women and girls, there was no gender equality. Boys and girls were always separated, and that always bothered me, because I did not see any fun in playing with the dolls or like sitting at home, like playing kitchen or like tea party. I was a very outdoor person. I always wanted to be very active. Always very - what do we call a "boyish" games? I was not allowed to go outside and play soccer with the boys, but I did. I was not allowed to go to just hang out with the boys outside, and I always got in trouble. But I always did that, because I wanted to set a precedent as a child for my existence and for my rights. My father always supported me, he's a very supportive that he always loved us, no matter what we did, and he always supported us, no matter what we did. My mother had the expectation from me that I would grow up, and I would get married early age. I would bear children, and I would become an obedient housewife, and I would become a good mother - a mother of probably six or seven children in Afghanistan. And I will have a very small and traditional life. She always expected that from me, but when I turned out to be the opposite, she was disappointed at the beginning. She wasn't happy when I played sport, when I went to my dojo, when I went for boxing. She was upset with me, and there were times that whenever I came home from my judo training, in order to make her happy, I would immediately go do the chores, do the laundry, wash the dishes, clean house to make her happy. But later, after the Olympics, she was realizing that this is what I wanted to do, and she supported me after that. [00:05:13][128.4]
Friba Rezayee: [00:05:21] In 1995, when the Taliban took over the central government for the first time, my family became refugees, and we went to a neighboring country, Pakistan, and we went to Peshawar is the closest province to the Afghan border. Small refugee house, and we had cable at that time in a very - we had a very small glass TV. My brothers always watched Mike Tyson matches. They were a huge fan of heavy boxing, and I always watched those matches with them. And I also watched Laila Ali, the daughter of Muhammad Ali. [00:05:58][37.3]
Friba Rezayee: [00:06:07] Seeing her fight like that, be very strong and very confident, that really spoke to me, and I wanted to do the same thing. I wanted to train hard, I wanted to practice hard, and I wanted to challenge her. In my mind, she was my idol and icon, as well as my opponent secretly like, "I am going to go train hard, and I'm going to challenge her." [00:06:31][24.0]
Newsclip: [00:06:42] "On my orders, the United States military has begun strikes against al Qaeda terrorist training camps and military installations of the Taliban regime in Afghanistan." [00:06:52][9.7]
Friba Rezayee: [00:06:54] When the U.S.A. invaded Afghanistan in 2001, my family returned to Afghanistan immediately, like so many other Afghan families. And when we went back to Afghanistan, we started a normal life - everybody was expecting a normal life. I was enrolled in all-girls school. My brothers were enrolled in school. My dad got a job. My older brother got a job with the UN, so life was good. I was still very, very interested in pursuing my boxing dream. One of my sports teacher introduced me to the Afghan National Olympic Committee. They assigned a male boxing coach. He trained me. He agreed to train me, and he did. He trained me for a few weeks, but it was becoming very, very dangerous in Afghanistan to train boxing, because I was the only girl practicing in the entire country at that time. One day my coach called me, and he said that he can no longer train me, because it's not safe anymore. There were a few religious and fundamentalist guys who were waiting for me to come for the training to hurt me. They were waiting there with knives, with flogs and so many other tools to capture me and to hurt me. When I insisted that I wanted to train because I had a dream to go to Las Vegas, fight Laila Ali - when I insisted on the phone that I know I want to continue my training, my coach said that sport is not valuable than your life. And he hung up the phone. There was no way for me that I could continue my boxing, but I was still in search of finding a sports center in Afghanistan where I could go and train, and I found out there was a place where they trained girls. This was a small dujo. I run towards the dujo, and I was only 16 years old. I was like full of energy. There was dust in my hair, on my shoes, and I met my coach Farhad Hazrati, who's still my coach with a like. sharp breath. And I told him that, "Coach, I want you to train me boxing, because I want to challenge Laila Ali." He just stared at me, and he was like, "OK, come in." He trained me boxing for a few days, but he later told me, "We don't train boxing here, but we trained judo." As soon as I walked in on the judo mats, when my feet touched the mats, I knew that this is it. This is how I will find my strength as well as my freedom. [00:09:36][162.2]
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