The Speed Project 2022 - Race Recap 🏴☠️
This will probably be one of the most difficult posts to write because of how many memorable and amazing moments happened over the last few days. To keep things somewhat coherent, I’ll break up the recap in the following sections.
I covered the basic details of the race and how I ended up getting to participate in the What’s Next post.
Team Breakdown
There were 42 teams this year at The Speed Project, and the makeup of the teams varied a lot in terms of number of crew and runners. On the one end, there was the Altra team which had 6 runners, 11 crew members, and 4 content makers. On the opposite end was our team.. we had 8 runners (4 male, 4 female) and ONE crew member.
For more perspective, some teams had sponsors which provided them shoes for the race, full matching race and recovery attire, and had massage therapists on their RV to help with recovery between segments. On the opposite end was our team… our captain tie-dyed our team shirts the weekend before the race. They were super dope shirts.
I point out the above not to complain, but actually to highlight what was one of my favorite aspects of our team. We were a little rag tag / a little “Bad News Bears”-ish, but we had a lot of heart and a lot of grit. We ended up beating a lot of better-outfitted teams by grinding things out and overcoming challenges together. I was a huge fan of my team and wouldn’t have wanted to do the race any other way.
Roster
In order from Left to Right from photo above:
Val was the sneaky workhorse of the team. She was so humble that she honestly fooled me into thinking she might not be as strong as our other teammates - a huge mistake on my part. She was the one that picked up the segments with the toughest climbs, with the longest stints, and the ones that only someone who had that ultra-runner style grit could handle. She enabled our team to succeed by acting so selflessly and taking on (and crushing) the hard stuff to enable other teammates to shine, like me / Anthony rocketing the downhill of the climb she just did, but never even thinking to take credit for it.
Rina was another beast of an athlete that brought our team’s performance to the next level. She and I ended up sharing a lot of running shifts through some of the most difficult parts of the desert. We helped each other power through those really dark mental spots of the race. Her attitude was: head down, grit it out, execute flawlessly, and never mention it. A true example of someone who not only wants to make you work harder but makes you want to be as humble as possible through it all.
Anthony was a new member of the team from New York and a great athlete. He attacked each of his segments with an honestly inspiring amount of passion that made all of us push ourselves harder during our own efforts. He held a gnarly fast pace for the entire race and brought the noise.
Me!
Ross was our captain and one of the few people that had actually done the race before. He put together and planned all of the details of how our team raced, our RV/4x4 driving maps and directions, and the entire strategy of the race. He was an incredible leader and the glue of the entire squad. He exemplified those intrinsic leadership qualities that can’t be taught and that many people wish/think they could develop but never will.
Niall had also been on the Runnington team last year and was another anchor of the team. He balanced the large responsibility of driving and navigating the RV for the beginning of the race AND doing his running segments. He was also the team member that drove the priority into all of us to ensure the team was looking out for one another, especially during the night and high-temp running segments.
Dani was essentially the co-captain and a force on the team to keep everyone on top of their responsibilities. She had raced and crewed The Speed Project several times and knew the ins and outs of what it took to be a successful team. I’d like to think we had a fun ying-yang relationship with her organization and authority and my ignorant optimism, eg: her: “what the hell are we going to do about this” and me: “we’ll just have fun and figure it out as we go.”
Liz was one of the most legit badasses I’ve ever met. She casually mentioned that she hiked the Pacific Crest Trail in 5 months (most take 12). She liked to swim in the Pacific Ocean up in Washington with no wetsuit. She drove the off-road 4-Runner like it was a toy. She lived “off the grid” for a while. Because some trail shoes she bought worked better on road, she figured she would just do the Seattle Marathon to break them in. She murdered each of her runs in quiet confidence like it was nothing to her. Oh yea, and this race was her first time running in a few months…
Jane (Not pictured) was our one and only crew member. She executed the job of at least six people, and up to eleven if you compare us with the Altra team. She drove and navigated the RV for almost all 42 hours of the race. She motivated and cared for every team member like we were family that she had known since birth. While each of us on the team was important in some way, Jane was the only member of the team that we could literally not have done the race without. She gave every ounce of energy of herself to make sure we runners could recover and be comfortable in the downtime between segments. I have never in my life seen someone prioritize the well-being of strangers so highly over themselves just for the good of the team.
Personal Race Efforts
I came into the race with something to prove.
I had never done a race like this, so I wanted to prove to myself that I could perform well and prove that I could perform well for a long time. I also still felt so lucky to be part of the team and motivated by my captain/teammates, so I wanted to prove to them that I would pull my weight and that I deserved to be out there with them.
It was tough to set anything like a pace goal due to the variability of conditions of the race, but my two goals were:
- Finish every segment without regrets
- Finish the race as fast or faster than I started
Goal 1: No Regrets
Overall, the majority of my 41 segments were in the low to mid 6 min/mile pace, with an average of 6:55 min/mile over 44.5 miles. I think that the average would be lower if I looked at the GAP (grade adjusted pace) due to some of the uphill climbs, but I’m satisfied with the performance and something that I already look forward to improving. I’m also confident that I never held back on any segment. I wanted to perform every time it was my turn to run because I knew no one on the team was phoning it in, so why shouldn’t I give everything every chance I get. I think I accomplished goal 1.
Goal 2: Finish Strong
For my final segment before the group run to the Vegas welcome sign, I ended up pulling an average of 5:49 min/mile for 3.1 miles, giving me an 18:05 5k to close. My personal best of my high school cross country career was an 18:18. So after 42 hours of racing over 44 miles in the Mojave desert, I was able to push harder than “senior year high school” Ethan did during his last race. Looking at my splits, I also never fell off a cliff, and my pace maintained well below 6:30 min/mile for my final segments leading up to that 5k. I’m proud that I didn’t burn out towards the end, and I was able to give my all for the team at the first and last segment.
Top Moments
Over the course of 42 hours, there were too many amazing moments to even remember, but these stuck out:
Powerline Road
In the middle of the Mojave, there’s a road that connects from Death Valley Bvld. to the mountains near the Nevada state line. It’s called Powerline Road and it’s in the middle of absolutely nowhere. It’s a shortcut to the original TSP course and one that’s unforgiving if you’re not on top of all of the logistics like hydration and nutrition.
Rina, Ross, Val, and I had just finished splitting a 10-mile segment (that leads to Powerline Rd.) in 1 mi intervals through Death Valley at 11 am. We had planned to meet the RV at the entrance of Powerline Rd, where we would swap in a new crew (Dani, Anthony, and Liz) to have the 5 of us tackle that toughest segment together. It’s roughly 30 miles from start to finish.
As we were wrapping up our 10-mile stint, we realized the RV hadn’t passed us and began to worry. After a bunch of calls and panic, we realized there had been an error. The RV crew (with the relief squad) had made a mistake and accidentally drove to the end of Powerline Rd. instead of the beginning, about a 40-minute drive away…
The nature of the TSP race forces you to adapt and overcome challenges like these to not lose time. The goal is to have someone running at ALL times.
As the RV crew began hauling back to meet the four of us at the entrance to Powerline Rd, Ross made the call that he would just have to go in unsupported until the RV showed up. At that point, we had no idea how far out the RV was. He grabbed a Gatorade and a hat and bolted out of sight over the hill that looked like this:
I was in the 4-runner with Val and Rina, and we hear that the RV is still almost 30 minutes away. This was the only point in the race where the reality of doing something like this can have serious consequences, and some panic set in. We were trying to weigh the risks of leaving Ross on his own, in the desert, with no support, in 100 degree weather, while we waited for fresh runners, or if should we leave the RV squad and try to make it just the 4 of us.
Because of how remote this road was, there were going to be limited options for us to help Ross if he got hurt or got heat exhaustion/stroke. We’d have to probably call in a helicopter. We eventually made the call that we needed new runners to finish the segment, and we’d have to let Ross tough it out until they arrived. We did everything possible to expedite the hand-off, and then waited for the RV. The minutes felt like hours as Ross was out of sight and pushing ahead alone.
The RV finally arrived 30 some minutes later, and we scrambled to load up on liquids and food and swapped out the squad. I then put the pedal to the floor and barreled down Powerline Rd. searching for Ross. Going much too fast for the road we were on, we all sat tense and in silence scanning the horizon for our captain. We blew by another team’s support crew member pushing his bike because the sand was too deep to pedal on. He waved at us for what I think was a request for help, but we had a more pressing priority.
We drove for several minutes, and it felt like we had gone further than Ross could’ve run in that amount of time. More panic set in as I went through the worse case scenarios: maybe Ross tried to find shade off the main road and we blew by him, maybe he collapsed in the sand and we didn’t see him, maybe he had gotten lost and wasn’t on the main road at all. We kept gunning it down the path until we finally saw a small blue dot. Still debating whether or not it was actually a person, we all were relieved when we did realize it was our captain.
He had made it close to 4 miles in the 30 minutes (which was insane with the heat). Anthony jumped out to take the second running shift, and Ross was safely back in the car. Ross wasn’t thrilled with the whole ordeal, but we were now set up with the right squad, didn’t lose any time, and Ross wasn’t dead. That was a win!
To further put into perspective the craziness of the 4 miles Ross had run, each of us only took 800m (1/2 mile) rotations because of the sandy/poor conditions of the road and the heat. This eventually dropped to 400m (1/4 mile) segments.
We powered through for several more hours. We were rotating so fast and frequently that there wasn’t a lot of conversation. It was all business and execution to get us to the RV as quickly as possible. I had actually started to fade due to the fact that I realized I hadn’t eaten anything since coming off the overnight shift hours and several segments before. Dani saved me with some gluten-free pretzels and dried apricot slices which kicked me back into gear for the back half.
Around 25 miles in (again after switching every quarter mile), we saw something that looked like RVs in the distance. I refused to let myself believe that was the end in order to not have false hope we were almost finished.
As we got closer, we realized it actually was the end, and our spirits and paces picked up.
The feeling of conquering Powerline Rd. overtook the exhaustion from the earlier mistakes and the harsh heat and hills.
I feel that I’ve physically suffered pretty well before through Ironman training, and things like the last few miles of the sub-3 hour marathon, but this was different. It was communal suffering through such an unrelenting harsh environment that resulted in this feeling of inner power that I’d never felt before. It’s something that will bond our Powerline squad for life.
We took a photo of our crew with the long path we just traveled behind us before hopping in the RV. I collapsed on the RV couch and fell asleep within seconds.
Night Shift
I had never done a race that required me to run overnight, so I wasn’t sure how my body would handle it. The overnight shifts were split into two crews, and I was lucky to be in the second crew. I was able to relax for a few hours between the last daytime segments around 6 pm and the start of our shift at around 1 am.
No one really slept. It was more like periodically passing out for a few minutes at a time. I also wanted to help Jane (again, fully on her own) who needed to empty the septic tanks of the RV and refill gas in the middle of the night.
We didn’t seat the drainage hose correctly to the RV tank, and the septic waste exploded out of the hose and all over the RV stop. (Luckily not on either of us…) It was a nightmare, and one of those things that was tough to process what you were seeing in the moment. Jane and I frantically cleaned it up (with a huge mop..for windshields and buckets of water). I now know how to manage the pump and dump of an RV, and I hope I never will have to use that skill again in my life.
Our overnight shift consisted of the four of us (Ross, Rina, Val, and myself) running for about 7 hours straight through the darkest part of the night. The desert sky speckled full of stars, Ringo’s Desert by ZHU blasted on the radio, and we held a strong and positive energy for the entire duration of the segments.
There was one major hill far from any road on the Arrowhead trail. Val and Rina handled the majority of the steep incline like it was nothing, and then I took on the final climb and then the sheer descent on the other side. At this point, we had been running for hours in the dark and a very dim blue light of the desert sunrise started to cover the path.
I had a somewhat out-of-body experience as I entered a flow state ripping down the hill. The trail was very technical with large rocks and sandpits. Foot placement was critical, and I was so zoned in that the reality of what I was actually doing (running) melted away. I lost all feeling in my body, and my vision blurred. The path below me just became a conveyor belt of blue and pink colors streaming underneath my legs. I tried to keep that feeling for as long as possible, and I consider it one of the most unique running experiences I’ve felt. There was so much concentration and effort on where I put my feet, but it felt like flying. Tough to describe, and tougher to forget.
This was also a key moment where the reality of the insane “coolness” of this race set in. Who else gets to barrel down a steep grade with treacherous rocks and sand, hallucinate from exhaustion with 4-Runner headlights behind you, and watch the sunrise over the expanse of the Mojave desert light up the surrounding desert mountains. It’s something I will never forget.
Finish Line
Obviously, with anything difficult, the feeling of finishing is always rewarding. I have been proud of my efforts in my past endurance events, but it’s totally different to share that satisfaction of conquering something incredibly difficult with a team.
I was brain dead at the Welcome to Las Vegas sign. I was trying to take it all in, and trying to make sense of everything that had just happened. If you look at some of our team videos all I say is: “that was the coolest shit I’ve done in my life”. I really meant that. At the sign, I layed on the floor reflecting on how lucky I was to be able to participate in something so cool, but also to be able to have the life that I get to do insane and incredible things like this for fun.
After reality settled back in, there is that overwhelming feeling of numbness and a tinge of sadness that the journey is over. I was happy with the way I performed, happy with how our team came together, and happy with our results. However, I immediately felt sad that we were done. I would do it all over again in a second.
Reflections
In order not to drone on here, I’m going to keep these to bullets. 42 hours on the road gives you a lot to think about, but this is what I thought was most important:
- The race was harder than I thought it would be.
Since there were so many small intervals, I figured it would be easier than a marathon. It was just a different type of pain and a different type of suffering. With a marathon you know you’re done hurting in a few hours, with this, you have days. There are many more highs and many more lows, but all of them make for an incredible experience
- I have met the most impressive and strong people through endurance events.
From the communities I’m part of in Chicago to this TSP team, I’m constantly baffled by the strength, humility, and overall bad-assery of the people I get to be around. It’s so inspiring and makes me redefine my own limits. I feel so honored and lucky just to get to share a small part of these people’s lives.
- Investing in others’ success is usually more rewarding than investing in your own.
Being on a team like this puts your own accomplishments into perspective, and creates a drive to support those around you. Doing hard things is cool, but doing hard things together is really cool.
- Your crew will make or break you.
Jane allowed our team to survive by having the strength of 6 people. I was ignorant of how important the crew member role is for this race, and it made me think about how that extends to other aspects of life besides running. You could be the best athlete out of any team in the desert, but if your RV isn’t there to pick you up… it doesn’t matter. The motto of TSP is “No Spectators” and that doesn’t mean that it’s closed off to the public or to watch. It means that everyone is actively involved, no one is just there to watch. You’re either running, crewing, or cheering. I think that’s a good way to think about life as well - don’t ever just be a spectator.
- I’m a lucky person.
If anyone has heard some of my travel stories from the last few months, I’ve argued that I’m not the luckiest person, especially when it comes to standby lists for flights. This race really did make me reconsider that notion, and make me realize how lucky of a person I am to be able to be invited to an event like this (thanks Riley + Ross), be able to prioritize the time and effort to do endurance sports, have the physical well-being to perform, and to be surrounded by the type of people I’ve met. I try to never take any of that for granted.
Conclusion
Like I said at the sign, that race was one of the coolest things I’ve ever done and one of those memories that I’ll think about until I die. I feel that type of life event doesn’t happen that often and I’m just happy to have experienced it. ✌️