For the Long Run

 My college Cross Country and Track coach would sign off important emails and messages with the phrase, “For the Long Run.” We, of course, began to use that phrase over time. Emails from captains or event organizers would end with the iconic but seldom discussed, “For the Long Run.” I don’t know where our coach picked up the phrase, he was a man of many expressions that became ubiquitous in our own parlance, if for no other reason than irony or humor. Despite him rarely, if ever, actually speaking those four words– they appeared exclusively at the end of emails –, they have been some of the ones that have stuck with me the most. 

It's a simple phrase that, I think, speaks volumes about a certain approach not just to running and athletics but also about an approach to life. "For the Long Run,” is, in essence, the approach our coach took to racing and to running as a whole. His trademarked “Luther Race Plan” was predicated on the fact that an 8 kilometer race is a long time to be running full gas. The perfect race, in his mind, is one where there may be no blue (our college’s color) present towards the front of the race at the first, or even second, k. But, slowly and surely, that blue catches up while maintaining consistency and surging not on the uphills but at their crests. By kilometer 6, 7, and 8, a wave of blue crashes over the competition who thought themselves safe and burned through their reserves far too early. It's a great image and, when it works, it's a thing of beauty. 

In addition to the race tactics, the phrase also embodies much of the training philosophy I was steeped in for my time in college.  We subscribed in many ways to the Lydiard approach (a cornerstone workout of ours was even titled “Lydiard’s”) in that volume was the almighty king and the “long run” was sacred. Along with a love for climbing long hills in the country roads of Iowa and running tempo loops in golden prairies, we approached our long runs with an almost religious devotion, prizing them, whether in wind, snow, or heat, as divinely given opportunities to test our metal, build our fitness, drop our friends, and rip down miles of beautifully smooth white gravel. 

    I was a sprinter before joining cross country, but quickly became an evangelist for the Cult of the Long Run. In my first year of collegiate track I was a 400 meter specialist, only going up as far as the 800 meter. Short, hard intervals were my bread and butter. If you had told 18 year old me he would be hammering half-marathon long runs with a smile on his face in two years he’d give you a concerned look and a glass of water. I remained an 800 meter specialist for the rest of college, but a part of me that grew larger and larger every year wished for more volume, longer days on the gravel, and bigger Strava peaks. While I was limited in a lot of ways by injury, specifically an IT band that got very angry after 13 miles of running, I was consistently happiest when logging those bigger minutes. 

Not everyone may have shared my experience, whether by body or mind, some take to different forms of training better. I know former teammates who will, I doubt, ever lose their love for hard 200s. But for me, the volume is where the joy is. 

If not actually present in the phrase itself, implicit is the “love” for the long run that is necessary to thrive in Lydiard-style training. An athlete has to at the very least have a strong tolerance for volume to even survive, the love for it is where one can thrive. 

That's the training side of things when it comes to the phrase “for the long run”. It's a focus on running as a steady, high volume affair. For me, at least, there's another, deeper element to it. Beyond what it tells us about running, there’s a message about a way to approach life more broadly. A way of life oriented towards longevity while remaining focused on the present. That's what the long run gives us. It is a deep investment in the future that is at the same time joyous in its own right. To live for the long run is to love the process of living and training, to stack the bricks with a bright smile, and to trust the journey.