NASA’s Jet Propulsion Laboratory is preparing to lay off hundreds of employees this week, director Laurie Leshin said in a memo to staff sent Tuesday afternoon.

The La Cañada Flintridge research institution will let go of approximately 325 employees across the organization on Wednesday, or roughly 5% of its total staff, the memo stated.

“With lower budgets and based on the forecasted work ahead, we had to tighten our belts across the board,” Leshin wrote. “This is a message I had hoped not to have to write.”

This is the third round of layoffs at JPL this year, a reduction spurred primarily by major budgetary cuts to the Mars Sample Return mission, which is managed by JPL.

NASA directed $310 million this year to the effort to bring Mars rocks back to Earth, a steep drop from the $822.3 million it spent on the program the previous year.

In January, 100 on-site contractors at JPL were let go after NASA instructed the lab to reduce spending in anticipation of a much tighter budget. In February, the lab laid off 530 employees — approximately 8% of its workforce — and another 40 contractors.

This week’s staff reduction will bring JPL’s total workforce to about 5,500 employees, a number that managers expect will remain stable “for the foreseeable future,” Leshin told staff.

The reduction had been in the works prior to the U.S. presidential election, she wrote, and “would be happening regardless of the recent election outcome.”

The memo instructed staff to work from home on Wednesday. Employees will be notified of their job status by email.

Last year was a crisis point for Mars Sample Return, whose goal is to fetch rocks from the Red Planet’s Jezero crater and bring them back to Earth for study.

In July 2023, the U.S. Senate presented NASA with an ultimatum in its proposed budget: Either present a plan for completing the mission within the $5.3 billion budgeted, or risk cancellation.

A sobering independent review two months later determined there was “near zero probability” of Mars Sample Return making its proposed 2028 launch date, and “no credible” way to fulfill the mission within its current budget. As designed, the review board found, the mission would probably cost up to $11 billion and not return samples to Earth until at least 2040.

In response, NASA put out a request for alternative proposals to all of its centers and the private sector, essentially putting JPL in a position of having to compete for its own project.

Lawmakers lobbied to preserve JPL’s funding, citing the need to protect jobs and keep the U.S. space program competitive. China has announced a sample return mission of its own to launch in 2028 or 2030.

But funding across NASA, adjusted for inflation, has plummeted from its Apollo-era high and remained essentially flat for decades.

NASA’s budget for years has hovered around 0.1% of total U.S. gross domestic product — less than one-eighth of its allowance during the mid-1960s.

The National Academies of Sciences, Engineering, and Medicine said earlier this year that the agency is suffering under budgets that fall far short of what’s needed to support its ambitions.

In a September report commissioned by Congress, experts from the National Academies identified a number of the agency’s technological resources in decline from a lack of funds, including the Deep Space Network — an international collection of giant radio antennas overseen by JPL.

Either the U.S. must increase funding for NASA, or the agency must cut some missions, the authors concluded.

“For NASA, this is not a time for business as usual,” lead author Norman Augustine, a former executive at Lockheed Martin, said in September. “The concerns it faces are ones that have built up over decades.”

A prominent neuroscientist at USC is on leave nearly a year after allegations of research misconduct cast doubt on his published work and derailed trials for an experimental stroke treatment.

USC Keck School of Medicine Dean Carolyn Meltzer sent an email to faculty in the department of physiology and neuroscience on Oct. 22, disclosing that professor Berislav V. Zlokovic was on leave “for an indefinite period.”

In the email, Meltzer said that professor Steve Kay would serve as acting director of both the Zilkha Neurogenetic Institute and the department of physiology and neuroscience, positions that Zlokovic formerly held.

A spokesperson confirmed Zlokovic’s leave and Kay’s acting appointments on Monday but declined to provide further details, citing confidentiality surrounding personnel matters. Zlokovic didn’t immediately respond to requests for comment Monday.

Late last year, a group of whistleblowers submitted a report to the National Institutes of Health questioning the integrity of Zlokovic’s research and the safety of an experimental stroke treatment developed by ZZ Biotech, the company he co-founded.

The report identified allegedly doctored images and data in 35 research papers in which Zlokovic was the sole common author. It also questioned findings in the Phase II clinical trials of 3K3A-APC, a drug intended to reduce post-stroke brain bleeds.

The whistleblowers’ findings and news of Zlokovic’s leave were first reported in the journal Science.

On Sept. 26, Houston-based ZZ Biotech officially canceled 3K3A-APC’s clinical trial, according to a notice of withdrawal filed on the government’s database of clinical research studies.

“Any decisions on the future development pathway of 3K3A-APC in stroke will need to wait until the investigations of Dr. Zlokovic are complete,” ZZ Biotech Chief Executive Kent Pryor said Monday. Zlokovic no longer has any managerial or scientific affiliation with the company but remains a minority equity holder as co-founder, Pryor said.

NIH paused the trial in November 2023. It also launched an investigation into Zlokovic and instructed USC to return $1.9 million in funding already supplied for the study, Science reported.

A spokesperson for USC didn’t immediately respond to questions about the university’s obligations to return any federal money related to the study.

Zlokovic is a leading researcher on the blood-brain barrier, with particular interest in its role in stroke and dementia. After joining the USC faculty in 1989, he left and spent 11 years at the University of Rochester before returning to USC in 2011. He was appointed director of USC’s Zilkha Neurogenetic Institute the following year.

He retained his department chair and institute director titles as USC launched an investigation after the whistleblower report.

Since the allegations became public, three of Zlokovic’s hundreds of published research papers have been retracted. Eight more have been issued corrections or expressions of concern, a note journals append to articles when they believe there may be a problem with a paper but have not proved so.

Dr. Matthew Schrag, an assistant professor of neurology at Vanderbilt who co-authored the whistleblower report independently of his work at the university, previously told The Times that he and his colleagues did not find evidence of manipulated data in the drug trial. But given the degree of concern surrounding Zlokovic’s earlier work, he said, a clinical trial relying on his research to treat patients in life-threatening situations deserved further scrutiny.

“When you’re seeing a red flag or a trend in the clinical trial, I would tend to give that more weight in the setting of serious ethical concerns around the pre-clinical data,” Schrag said earlier this year. Schrag didn’t immediately respond to requests for comment Monday.

DeLoyce Alcorn is 92 years old — and pressing nearly four times that in weight at the gym.

On a recent Wednesday afternoon, Alcorn — dressed in a T-Shirt that read “Be Strong. Be Resilient. Be You.” — slid into the leg press machine, which was set at a whopping 312 pounds. He gripped the handlebars, closed his eyes and “got zen,” as he says. Then he pressed his legs forward very slowly.

“Slower, slower, smoooooth ….” urged his his trainer, standing by his side.

The retired aerospace engineer, who lives in Sierra Madre, did about four reps before his teeth clenched, his legs trembled and he let out short puffs of air through pursed lips. The exercise was just one minute and thirty-three seconds long. When it was over, Alcorn sprung to his feet, beaming triumphantly.

“I used to do 400 pounds!” he boasted. “But the COVID, it put me back. I’m working my way back.”

Alcorn was in the midst of his weekly workout at the Strength Shoppe in Echo Park, where he and his wife, Patricia Alcorn, 88, have been training for 12 years. They’re devotees of an exercise called slow-motion strength training. Often referred to as SuperSlow or Power of Ten, the resistance training technique involves lifting weights very slowly and methodically, with 10 seconds each spent on the lifting and lowering motions of the exercise. Doing so eliminates momentum and is therefore easier on the joints and connective tissue — one reason many fans of slo-mo training are in their golden years.

The workout is typically done using MedX equipment, weight machines that were developed in the 1980s for rehabilitative purposes. They’re still used in physical therapy clinics, hospitals and gyms around the country.

Recently, strength training has become a hot topic in the world of exercise, in part because research continues to show its benefits for health and longevity. It builds muscle strength and bone density and is good for cardio metabolic health, especially for women. But slow-motion strength training, in particular, is beneficial for older exercisers, people healing injuries or those who are new to or returning to exercise because the slow cadence and focus on form — always with one-on-one supervision — reduces the chance of injury.

The method has also caught the attention of the wider exercise community because of its efficiency: a slow-motion workout is just 20 minutes long, once a week. It shouldn’t be done more than that, so the body has time to recover, says Melinda Hughes, co-owner of the Strength Shoppe. Slowing down the movement, eliminating momentum and not stopping to rest during an exercise set puts the muscle under greater tension for a longer period of time, forcing it to work harder, so exercisers may see greater benefit in less time compared with traditional strength training. Muscles typically fatigue from the exercise in just one to two minutes.

“Whereas traditional strength training takes three times the amount of time, with more reps and sets,” Hughes says, “and you don’t get to the level of intensity that you do with slow-motion strength training, where you just do one set to failure.”

Lai-San Ho on the rowing torso machine at the Workout Revolution with trainer Lorena Ortiz.

(The Workout Revolution )

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“It’s only 20 minutes. I can go on my lunch break!” says Lai-San Ho, a 33-year-old TV editor. She started slow-motion strength training at the Workout Revolution in Studio City after tearing her ACL in 2022 — it provided a low-impact way to exercise while recovering. But she stuck with it to stay fit.

“I could tell I was getting stronger in all areas of my body,” Ho says. “I’ve noticed certain aches and pains in my upper back, after a year, went away. I can’t imagine not doing it because I feel so many benefits.”

Jason Zaremski, a sports medicine physician at the University of Florida, says the technique is “legit, the real thing.”

“Any weight training is great for older individuals, but this routine reduces risk of injury while still gaining benefit,” he says. “There’s no jerky motions or throwing of weights. And it can increase your circulation — you get greater blood flow while activating your muscles. So you’re adding a cardiovascular benefit for something that’s typically anaerobic.”

Even so, other experts are skeptical about the technique.

“Sets going to failure, with a long time under tension, is a very uncomfortable, unnecessarily painful workout,” Casey Johnston, author of the weightlifting newsletter “She’s a Beast,” said. “It’s not necessarily more effective. So much of lifting is about coordination, neuromuscular activity in your body and stabilization and that’s not present using machines the way it is with free weights.”

DeLoyce Alcorn and his trainer, Arjen van Eijmeren, at the leg press machine.

(Marcus Ubungen/Los Angeles Times)

There are about a dozen boutique fitness studios in L.A. that specialize in slow-motion strength training, as well as larger chains like the Perfect Workout. Though many of them have been around for decades, momentum around this subset of exercise picked up during the COVID-19 pandemic, Hughes says, adding that by 2022, the Strength Shoppe had doubled its staff at both its Pasadena and Echo Park locations and this month opened a Mid-City location. While gyms and fitness studios closed during early stay-at-home orders, many slow-motion strength training studios remained open because they offered an essential rehabilitative service: weight-bearing physical therapy for pain management, osteoporosis and other conditions.

Word got out. Then, after restrictions lifted, those looking for in-person studios with strong COVID protections found their way to slow-motion strength training. The environment of a typical studio is quieter and more intimate than a bustling gym. No more than two clients and their trainers are typically allowed in the space at once. The temperature is set at a chilly 68-70 degrees, because body heat rises with such strenuous exertion. There are typically no group classes offered and no music over the loudspeakers.

“It’s so absolute attention can be paid to form and alignment,” Hughes says, adding that her clientele ranges from age 12 to 93. “I, and other trainers who work with this, call it ‘the fountain of youth.’ We lose muscle and bone density as we age. It’s cumulative. When you gain — or regain muscle mass — you feel younger, your body is more supported.”

Melinda Hughes and Arjen van Eijmeren, owners of the Strength Shoppe.

(Marcus Ubungen/Los Angeles Times)

At SuperSlowLA in Brentwood, which opened 25 years ago, the clientele ranges from age 15 to 89. But the studio specializes in the health of postmenopausal women, who make up 80% of its business (90% of its clients are female).

“Women get osteoporosis and osteopenia and other related health issues because of hormonal changes,” says owner Benjamin Fisher. “A lot of our clients are afraid of walking down the street and breaking a hip. The methodology of what we do, we keep bone loss at bay. We give them the strength to be more active and independent.”

Leona Katz, an 80-year-old attorney who has been training at SuperSlowLA for five years, calls the results “miraculous.”

“I was very overweight and had hip problems and blood pressure problems,” Katz says. “After my husband passed away, I made some life changes and lost more than 100 pounds. My kids call me Leona 2.0.”

At Myogenics Fitness, which opened in West Hollywood in 1998, the atmosphere is clean, simple and functional. Occasionally the studio will play white noise to help exercisers focus. Trainers coach clients on how to keep their breathing open and fluid while they lift.

“A lot of people compare it to mediating,” owner Chad Morris says of the workout.

Marty Waldman, 96, performs pull-downs at Myogenics Fitness.

(Carlin Stiehl/For The Times)

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Marty Waldman, 96, has been training at Myogenics for about six years, which has been “very gratifying but also exhausting” as a nonagenarian, he says. He was a runner, skier and long-distance biker when he was younger, and is in relatively good shape today but for a heart condition and “two bad knees and shoulders.” But the retired businessman began slo-mo strength training because he wanted to feel stronger.

“It’s allowed me to do things I wouldn’t ordinarily do,” he says. “We just got back from a rigorous trip with the gorillas in Rwanda — there’s no way I could have done that if I hadn’t been in reasonably decent shape.”

Chad Morris, owner of Myogenics Fitness, holds a stopwatch while training Marty Waldman, 96.

(Carlin Stiehl/For The Times)

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Though slow-motion strength training has delivered clear results for many of its participants, those results come with a price: Sessions must be done with a trainer and typically cost between $80 and $100, so that a month’s worth of sessions are more than a monthly gym membership.

There are safety precautions too.

Marty Waldman’s progress is recorded on his workout chart at Myogenics Fitness.

(Carlin Stiehl/For The Times)

“You can’t do the same amount of weight that you’d do with a traditional routine,” says sports medicine physician Zaremski. “You may have to drop the weight because your muscles will fatigue quicker — they’re under tension for a longer period. Your form also needs to be especially accurate.”

Still, devotees say the cost is worth it.

“You cannot put a price on health,” says Blake Boyd, a 58-year-old actor-producer and former fitness trainer who came to the Strength Shoppe six years ago after having been diagnosed with arthritis in his neck. “It’s effective, it works. I’ll do it for the rest of my life.”

Rick Staddon, owner of Vitality Personal Training in Calabasas, says his clients comment that getting stronger has been a game-changer.

“I often hear: ‘I can carry groceries up the stairs now,’ ‘I can cut the grass,’ he says. “The simple things are very meaningful for a lot of people.”

Alanna Kathleen Brown lifts weights at Pure Strength in Studio City.

(Deborah Vankin/Los Angeles Times)

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For Alanna Kathleen Brown, an 80-year-old retired English professor, slow-motion strength training has turned her into a “walking miracle,” she says, climbing onto the seat of the High Row machine at Pure Strength in Studio City.

“I have osteoarthritis, I deal with obesity, I have blood pressure issues and GERD,” Brown says. “But I do weights. I’m strong. I’ve avoided surgeries.”

Then she lifts and lowers the weight very slowly until her cheeks are flushed pink.

“For me, doing slow weights is right up there with paying all the bills,” she says. “I’d give up a lot of things before I’d give this up. Because it’s quality of life — and independence.”