The speed Project pt.1
While I had no idea at the time what it was in reference to, David Kilgore had posted an Instagram story one January day that said something cryptic to the effect of, “Looking for fast runners that can take a week away in March for an adventure.” Knowing David only through social media and the kind of antics he usually lives, it must be amazing! “Hey man– I’m interested in joining the party! [insert some of my running credentials] Let me know!”
A few days later an email from the team over at The Speed Project HQ came through with a link to register for the event. “Isn’t The Speed Project that relay that goes through Death Valley?” Over the following 24 hours I must have read every blog post on the first 3 pages of Google and watched over a dozen YouTube videos trying to analyze and figure out what I was signing up for. Swallowing the magnitude of the challenge gave me doubts, but Kristen’s words of encouragement suggested that if I even had possible interest, this would be a foolish opportunity to pass up. Over the following weeks, a few more emails came through both from the event organizers as well as from David and Jupiter (an On Running event coordinator extraordinaire). I was able to connect via Zoom meeting with the rest of our team; both the runners and the crew. We realized that all the runners were somehow or another connected through David. None of us sponsored athletes or pros; just incredibly passionate, competitive runners. We all began following each other on Strava, Instagram, and WhatsApp. It came quickly to my attention that I was the slowest of the male runners on the team (Alex and Zach are sub-2:18 marathoners and Sam consistently runs 100-mile weeks in addition to having a 1:07 half marathon). Not to mention both Maria and Kaylee run the same amount of miles I do and train at practically an identical pace to me. They all were backed by these impressive race results and competitive drive that on paper outmatched me on my best day. To say I was intimidated and left with imposter syndrome would be an understatement. I worried that I’d not only slow the team down, but that we’d fall short because of my lack of ability.
It’s been a few years since, but I’ve run my fair share of lengthy relays. This one seemed immediately different. We were bombarded with spreadsheets of data representing the route, the lengths of legs, a high-level overview of our logistics plan, details like where to dump the waste and refuel the RV, and even estimated times of arrival to specific locations along the 300-mile route. There would be no markings to guide our way, and ultimately no rules other than to get there on foot and not break any laws. “There”... The Welcome to Las Vegas sign on the infamous Las Vegas strip. But we would be starting on the California coast right at the famous Santa Monica Pier. Zooming out on a map, this is an absurd distance for six runners to cover in such a short time frame. But it also sounds like the perfect amount of masochism for my adventurous spirit.
On Running was our benefactor. They provided us with gear, shoes, travel expenses, managed logistics, housing, race supplies, and an unbelievable team of crew members in the form of On employees. None of this would have been possible without their generous support. To give them a little extra shoutout, I wore either the CloudBoomEcho, the CloudVista, or the CloudMonster for the entirety of the event and had no foot trouble and felt that the gear was entirely up to the test. As an ode to On’s support, when it came time to create a team name we juggled around a few pertaining to their “Run on clouds” motto. After more than a few terrible puns, we unanimously selected “Ride The Lightning” as our handle and prepared the lightning bolt emoji for every Instagram post to follow.
While everything was coming together and we’d gotten travel details ironed out, I still felt under qualified to be lining up amongst this band of savages. Following what felt like a mediocre performance at the Black Canyon 100k in February, Coach Ryan and I shifted gears towards injecting some speed back into my legs. It was better to go into this unknown a bit more well rested and sharpened, so we toned down mileage and increased the speed for a few weeks. Workouts like 12x200, 3x(400-300-200-100), and 3x(1600-800) helped prepare my legs for the brutal beatdown to come. At the time it felt like too little too late and I was sure to be the weak link. But that’s the kind of speed we were bringing, so that’s the speed I packed in my suitcase.
With some personal life experiences weighing heavily, it felt wrong to leave Bend for a week. But knowing that it was likely to be a remarkable experience and opportunity, I loaded up and boarded the plane headed to LAX. Upon arrival, Alex and I linked up with Mark and Trina, who would be helping us get from LA to Vegas, and grabbed food before driving a bunch of the route. It wasn’t awesome to sit in the car all day after some travel, but resting the legs seemed just fine. We spent a ton of the day driving the first ~120 miles of our route. I drove, Trina navigated, Mark snapped photos, and Alex took it all in to remember turns and sorting out the start and finish to the planned legs. Coming from Bend’s late winter, the 80 degree sun was a bit more intense than expected. It wasn’t alarming, but awakening. While we experienced some of the desert dirt road sections of the route at the same time of day as we would during the race, it still didn’t make me feel better about the deep end of this pool we were jumping into. We ventured back to Sherman Oaks and linked up with the rest of the team and the international women’s team, another On-supported crew from all over the world. Jupiter had a Korean barbeque lined up for the gang and it couldn’t come soon enough. A first dinner together was a great way to connect, share stories, create initial strategies, and enjoy the company of other awesome people. Nobody really knew what we were about to get into, but everybody was equally excited for it! By the time we got back to our ridiculously beautiful AirBnB, we happily upended our suitcases and crashed in cozy beds.
The following morning some of us ventured to grab coffee before a group run. It was a gorgeous, sunny morning in a hilly LA suburb that proved to be a fun way to shake out the nerves. The day led us to a pre-race briefing with the organizers of The Speed Project. We'd collect a case of RedBull, a large box of Maurten fuel, a TheSpeedProject flag, some last minute instructions, and a better taste of the culture this underground and unsanctioned event boasts. One line that will be forever etched in my mind was spoken by the event's mastermind Nils, " Unsanctioned means we all have the responsibility to protect this experience." We find ourselves in a particularly unique situation. The Speed Project lives the duality of being laid back and underground but also an adventure of incredibly epic proportions. The event relies on phone GPS to track the leaders of the event, there's no official route, and the organizers remind us to go have fun and that they'll see us either at the finish or at the pool party on Sunday. We will set out to live our own story. To write the tales that will be told.
While on the run earlier, I asked the team to come to an afternoon meeting prepared with a few pieces of information to share with the group. I hoped they would take it seriously.
In preparation for The Speed Project I tried to envision what skills I could best support the team with, where I lacked and would need help, and if I could find a way to secretly strip the ego out of our minds. The biggest takeaways from that exercise was 1- the realization that I have no problem being the first person to say that I’m inferior, and 2- that I do have an understanding of how deep we are about to dig, but I’m not sure if most of the team does. We all came in with egos that often come with being dominant or high achieving humans, very confident in our abilities. But I asked the team to be vulnerable and not to let our individual confidence blind us to the challenge in the unknown. In that meeting I let the others know my fears about being the weakest link. That I felt as though I hardly belonged, that I won’t be offended by someone frustrated with my limitations, that being the resident old-timer (at the ripe age of 31) with old-man ultrarunning legs is something I take pride in, and that I deeply cared about them as people. But I also made a promise to not run out of energy no matter how deep into hellfire we got. It was an effort to draw out empathy, which prompted others to lay their cards on the table and pulled together this group of relative unknowns to become much more of a unit than just a few hours prior. In order to trust each other as much as we would have to, we needed to have a respect for each other that comes from more than accolades. Chess, not checkers.
It seemed like everyone left the meeting a little more relaxed. We ate some thick cheese pizza, lingered about, and prepared the RV for the morning. I called to talk to Kristen before going to bed. She always has a beautiful and effective way of bringing a sense of peace to my soul. The anxiety of the unknown loomed overhead but she made it seem like just another tough day in the woods. Hotter, less shaded woods—but a familiar ultra effort nonetheless. Her ability to see me for who I am, keep me grounded, and remind me to feel gratitude for an opportunity are all not given enough credit. Despite the daunting race to follow, being back home with Kristen was the last thing I thought about before drifting into a dreamless sleep.