Ultrarunning
Catch up with the crazy runners competing in California’s The Speed Project
Unsanctioned, unhinged, underground and off the grid – this is The Speed Project, a running relay race that few know about, fewer compete in and no entrant ever forgets.
It began with a rumour. About an underground foot race starting at the beachfront of Santa Monica and finishing in Las Vegas. A race without sponsors, without rules, without even a website. Where no spectators are allowed and there’s no purse at the end – and yet it attracts some of the world’s best athletes, drawn by the promise of a unique trial of pace and perseverance. That rumour led to a name – The Speed Project, a moniker coined by the founder of the race, Nils Arend.
“There’s a raw beauty in the idea of travelling somewhere on foot, running from one place to another, versus doing a community 10K and getting a free T-shirt at the end,” Arend told The Red Bulletin over the phone at the start of 2020, back when he was busy planning that year’s Speed Project. Back when the world was a different place.
The seed of the idea came to the slender, often mohawked, 42-year-old Hamburg-to-LA transplant in 2013. “For me, running is grounded in some sort of competitiveness,” Arend explained. “If you look at the running-event landscape, there are the serious, high-performance, competitive races, or the opposite where people dress up in costumes and drink along the way. Neither appealed to me.”
He shared the idea with US marathon-running legend Blue Benadum, who insisted that this competition be about speed. “We wanted a twist,” said Arend. So it became a relay race – no rest stops, no fancy hotels, just the runners supporting themselves with accompanying RVs. “We put our heads down and race as hard as we can without letting go, almost like pit bulls.”
They pioneered a route from Santa Monica Pier to the Las Vegas welcome sign – a relentless 548km route that climbs through Hollywood and the Antelope Valley, past a massive aeroplane graveyard at the edge of the Mojave Desert and the Inland Empire city of Barstow, through the remote town of Baker (population: 541) and along the edge of Death Valley National Park, then follows a short segment of the Old Spanish Trail and finally Route 160 into Vegas. This would become known as the ‘OG route’ – The Speed Project’s most popular path – but it’s more of a guideline than a fixed course. Runners can deviate in any way they please, with one condition: “No freeways”.
Likewise, there are no fixed relay hand-off points, no rules on how far each of the six crew members must run, or how many times they can be subbed back into the race. A map is emailed out in advance, breaking down the OG route into 39 segments ranging in length from 6.5km to 77km. Most are around 10km. How the runners tackle these sections is up to them. Typically, they use the 10km markers as an opportunity to pass the metaphorical baton. But if they need to make up time they might do half a section each, or just a couple of hundred metres per person on the final frantic sprint into Vegas.
In the years following its inception, the Speed Project’s reputation grew, but its DIY ethos remained. Today, there’s still no website, no invite and minimal mainstream press coverage. In 2020, after sounding us out on the phone, Arend agreed to let The Red Bulletin tag along. You know the rest. Pandemic. Plans on hold. Then, in early 2022, another phone call. The message was simple: “Get to LA.”
Chilean ultramarathon runner Max Keith at the start of the race
© Jim Krantz/Blake Woken
The Chilean
The fog rolling in off the Pacific lends an eerie hue to Santa Monica Pier at 3.30am on this late March morning. The low hum of music and laughter is audible, as RV lights burn through the mist, silhouetting the figures of scores of athletes. Three hundred participants – grouped into 55 teams – have travelled here from as far afield as the UK, Europe and South America for this, the seventh Speed Project. One of them is Max Keith.
The 33-year-old from Chile’s capital, Santiago, has been running trails his whole life. Today, he’s here as part of the Maffetones Club, a Chilean team following the teachings of sports guru (and singer/songwriter) Dr Phil Maffetone, whose ‘method of moderate running’ advocates a low heart-rate marathon plan; the idea being that the slower your heart, the more efficiently your body draws energy. Instead of sugar, your body burns fat,
and you don’t ‘bonk’ or ‘hit the wall.’
Last year, when pandemic restrictions halted sporting events, the Speed Project organised a DIY race, asking teams to run the longest relay they could, wherever they were, in 31 hours and 15 minutes (the course record set in 2019). The Maffetones covered 425.26km of the Atacama Desert, ranking them in the top 10 of more than 160 teams. With temperatures there ranging from 40°C in the day, and dropping to below freezing at night, it was also the perfect proving ground for the searing plains of Death Valley.
As the 4am start approaches, the countdown begins, then they’re off – 55 runners, one from each of the six-person teams. Some are in flashing vests and neons, some with head torches, others in ordinary running gear, all disappearing in different directions, intent on finding the fastest route out of the city. Most dart down Santa Monica Boulevard, passing a large Mormon church, while the team RVs roll out into the night like a herd of migrating elephants.
Even if we fall short, it’s about knowing we died on the line
Understanding the importance of these early moments of the race, the Maffetones have planned out a 6.5km shortcut directly to the hills north of the city. Instead of the usual 10km handovers, they’ve put their fastest runners into 3km sprints to cement their head-start. Keith is one of them. This focus on speed over pace is a new challenge for him, but after years of lockdown he has a renewed appreciation for being out here, opening up his stride and pushing hard.
“When you realise you’re able to cover distances at pace, it gets addictive,” he says. “You get this feeling of freedom. You’re focused on your form, motion, steps, how you’re breathing – you’re hyper-aware of your surroundings. The more in-tune you are with yourself, the wilder the experience gets. The more speed you can achieve, the more intense the experience.”
At 4.22am, a message in the group WhatsApp warns of a man waiting with a plank behind a turn in the road. At 5.16am, the first runners puff uphill past the famous Chateau Marmont hotel at 8221 Sunset Boulevard. By 5.53am, it’s already 14°C and the front runners have left the bulk of the crowd behind.
By 6.10am, with half an hour until dawn, the Maffetones are 14km ahead of the rest. At 6.41am, the sun is beginning to rise over the hills of the industrial San Fernando Valley on the northern outskirts of LA. Four members of the team swapped out the first 32km in 3km stretches, hitting a top pace of 3.4 minutes per kilometre before subbing in their hill runners for fresh legs on the uphill climbs.
Shortly after, on a winding stretch of hillside, Keith sprints to finish his fourth section. “I’m super-excited,” he says, the energy inside the Maffetones’ RV akin to an airborne sugar rush. “I feel good because I have to. We’re only two hours in.”
There’s a long race ahead, but for Keith right now it’s about tackling the rice and burritos, and the cold brew
and energy drinks in the RV’s fridge, rebuilding his strength until it’s his turn to run again. With no breaks, it’s all about staving off injury and fatigue. For when the team reaches Death Valley there will be a single cold beer to be shared among them. By that point, they may need it.
Mexican athlete Alex Roudayna putting in the hard yards
© Jim Krantz/Blake Woken
The latecomer
Alex Roudayna didn’t expect to be running in The Speed Project. Aged 32, the ultrarunner from Mexico City has been competing since 2013, but it was only last year that a friend suggested she apply for a place on the international women’s team being put together by ON Running – one of two teams sponsored by the sports apparel brand, and one of five teams in the race made up entirely of women. Usually averse to pitching herself in such scenarios, this time Roudayna went for it, won a place, and met her team-mates for the first time near LAX just 12 hours before the race began.
By mid-morning, it’s 21°C in Soledad Canyon – the ninth section of the OG route, and Roudayna’s second of the race. Halfway between valley and desert, the buzz of LA has been left behind for long, empty roads, with only the occasional camping ground and distant commuter train to break up the monotony. As the heat haze rises from the pavement, Roudayna is easy to spot, even from a distance, thanks to her dyed green hair. Moving at a rapid pace, she’s soon swapping over with her waiting team-mate.
In the build-up to The Speed Project, Roudayna had been running a lot. One of her recent achievements was 11th place in the USA Track & Field 100 Mile Road National Championship in Nevada in February, something she says she undertook mainly to gauge her speed. Most days, she trains eight to 10 hours.
As someone with Asperger’s, Roudayna explains that “nothing really makes a lot of sense socially to me”, but that when she’s running she can stay in her own head without the need to talk to others. “We’re all part of a community and you just understand each other with a nod,” she says. “It doesn’t matter what you’re going through or where you come from.”
As she finishes her section, sweat covering her tattooed arms, Roudayna looks tired, but she bounces excitedly on the spot. “I’m not looking forward to having a break,” she says. “I want to keep going!” Despite only lately becoming acquainted with her team-mates, Roudayna has fitted comfortably into the dynamic, especially when it comes to pushing harder and faster. “If they tell me to run fast, I run fast,” she laughs. “It’s not easy, but once you hit the pain cave it’s groove time.”
It’s clearly working: the team are ahead of schedule and one of the most promising in the competition. Seven hours into a possible 40-hour race, optimism and adrenalin are running high. Heading into the RV for recovery drills and a cold drink, Roudayna offers some parting thoughts. “It’s just about seeing how far I can go and what’s possible. The goal is to give it all. Even if we fall short, it’s about knowing we died on the line.”
Self-confessed “pace junkie” Kam Casey in his RV (note the custom socks)
© Jim Krantz/Blake Woken
The power line
As the day progresses, the race reels out into desert proper. Here, the route is marked by mines and concrete factories; rundown towns with buildings like dusty shoe boxes. In the distance stand the snow-capped San Gabriel mountains and, in this dry landscape, roadside reservoirs feed water to LA. Drivers along the route are by now used to the sight of lone runners trailed by RVs bearing taped-on messages like “Todo es mental [Everything is mental]”, “Wish you were running” and, simply, “Grit.”
An empty lot on a desert crossroads forms a natural meeting point for teams. There’s a vendor selling orange juice from a cart. Another is offering vivid religious portraits from Mexico. One runner, stripped to his shorts, reclines in a large cooler full of ice water in the bed of his team’s truck. Others shelter under the shade of a single palo verde tree.
At 2.13pm, a message comes through that one of the runners, Tilly, has lost her crew. It’s now 26°C and fatigue has begun to bake the desert runners. The wind picks up. Tensions are frayed as one team accidentally clips the wing mirror of another’s RV. In the group chat, there are warnings of stray dogs chasing runners. This is common enough that, in 2018, Team Hunter carried pepper spray as a precaution against enthusiastic canines; luckily, they didn’t have to use it.
By 2.30pm, Tilly has been reunited with her team. On El Mirage Road, a red-haired woman appears on a black horse and gallops alongside the runners, sending up clouds of desert dust. Beyond El Mirage, one group is trying something different. An old 151km service road – the aptly named Powerline Road – runs between electricity pylons. The route was discovered ahead of the 2019 Speed Project by a team from Nike, who'd been desperately scouting for new ways to beat their rivals, Team Adidas. It worked – Nike won, Adidas came second.
I was losing control of my emotions; on the verge of tears in the middle of running
It’s here that Kam Casey finds himself on this hot Saturday afternoon in 2022. Tall and wiry, with a buzzed haircut and a way of speaking in soundbites that suggests media training, the 29-year-old Indianapolis native, now based in LA, could surely make a career out of wearing clothes on Instagram if the running thing doesn’t work out. Indeed, the day before the race, when all the teams met up, Casey and his crew – Team Bandit – were hanging out on top of their RV in matching black velour tracksuits and shades.
It’s clear they’re here to make an impression, and look stylish while doing it. Which isn’t to say they’re not dedicated to the cause. Drawing inspiration from Nike’s discovery, Bandit scouted the route for three months, pouring over satellite imagery before concluding that the power lines route would bring them in at 464km – 84 less than the OG runners.
Before The Speed Project came knocking, self-confessed “pace junkie” Casey had been struggling. A 2h 30m marathon runner, he hadn’t run one since the start of the pandemic, and his last attempt had been aborted mid-race when, he says, his body gave up on him. “I was losing control of my emotions; on the verge of tears in the middle of running,” Casey recalls. “I couldn’t make sense of it. It was mentally very tough.” It dented Casey’s confidence. He knew he could do better. The Speed Project is many things to many people; for Casey it’s a chance at redemption.
Emerging in the heat haze, flanked by twin rows of power lines, Casey looks strong. His LA move has helped familiarise him with heat, but the ground underfoot is nonetheless unforgiving. Sharp downhills lead into long uphills lead into rolling ups and downs without respite. But, at 3.4 minutes per km, with a few sub-3.3s thrown in, Casey feels confident that Bandit have everything to play for. As afternoon slides into evening, they’re just a few fast relays behind the leaders…
British runner Angela Tomusange going the distance on her way to Barstow
© Jim Krantz/Blake Woken
The long slog
Speed, of course, is relative. The Speed Project’s 2019 winners, Team Nike, completed the race in 31h 15m – that’s very fast, averaging 15kph. But while Casey and the front-runners are tactically analysing shortcuts to reduce that time even further, for others finishing at all is achievement enough. Five hours behind Bandit, the Black Trail Runners, a team from the UK, are doggedly pounding on.
Angela Tomusange, a Londoner of Ugandan heritage, began the race feeling nervous. “[In the running scene] I don’t see a lot of people who look like me,” she says. “Black Trail Runners appealed to me because I want to inspire others to take it up.” At 40, she’s somewhat older than The Speed Project’s average runner age (mid-twenties) but Tomusange applied as a fresh challenge, to prove that anyone can compete alongside some of the world’s best runners, even if it means travelling 8,800km across the Atlantic and the breadth of North America to do it.
She prepared by training on hills in and around London, but London isn’t the Mojave and the going here is tough. On her third relay section, Tomusange finally finds her rhythm, but by the first evening of the first day – and with the fastest teams expecting to finish just after dawn the next day – it’s clear that the Black Trail Runners are in it for the long haul. Unacclimatised to the desert heat, they’re slowing down. Add a change of plans to help an injured team-mate rest up, and the UK team is feeling the strain.
As the race stretches into night, the fatigue is evident to all the runners. Most are on the outskirts of Barstow, running along deserted sandy roads. For Tomusange, the cool night air offers a welcome respite and, fears of encounters with wolves or mountain lions aside, she’s beginning to enjoy herself. “I’m going with the flow,” she says. “It’s a nice experience. I’ve got used to running in the dark with our RV in the distance.”
After a long night, the dawn casts a blue light over the yellow sage flowers of Death Valley. A national park, the desert here is pristine and protected – the opposite of the trash-strewn wastes between LA and Barstow. It was here in the late 1960s that Charles Manson and his followers set up shop in the abandoned Barker Ranch, and that the area’s last gold prospector, Seldom Seen Slim, lived alone in the empty town of Ballarat before his death in 1968.
It was here that the drugs kicked in and Hunter S Thompson hallucinated bats shrieking low around his Great Red Shark convertible, as detailed in the opening paragraphs of his 1971 novel Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas: A Savage Journey to the Heart of the American Dream.
For Tomusange and crew, the new day brings nothing quite so sinister. They run the sun up just before the park entrance. A chance encounter with another team at a petrol station in the night has spurred them on. But Vegas is still roughly 240km away, and in the casino capital of America the lucky front-runners are about to cross the finish line.
Team Bandit (with Kam Casey in black) celebrating at the finish line
© Jim Krantz/Blake Woken
The finish
Sixty-five kilometres out from the Vegas sign, and Bandit aren’t doing so good. With rumours that Team ON Running were in the lead, the Bandits chanced an unknown path, heading off-road over sand and rock – in the middle of the night, no less. The gamble didn’t pay off, costing them valuable kilometres.
Now, surrounded by drab cookie-cutter houses that mark the desert between Death Valley and Vegas, runner Allison Lynch is having trouble with her knee, and team-mate Evan Schwartz’s quads are burning up. The team have no choice but to cover the remaining distance with the four remaining runners.
When we could see Vegas, it felt surreal that we were actually about to reach it
Casey and the others dig deep. There’s a downhill slope into Vegas and they’re able to push a kilometre every 3.25 minutes; that’s around 18.5kph – a Herculean pace after 30-something hours. At 11.34am, they storm into Vegas as a team, joined by their injured runners as they finish in 31h 45m, taking fourth.
“We went for the win and we didn’t get it, but that’s what it is,” says a proud but exhausted Casey. “You take your chances.” His Bandit vest is soaked in sweat and champagne, his Speed Project medal – a poker chip on a necklace – hanging on his chest. Having signed up to run around 80km, Casey estimates he has clocked at least 98.
The Maffetones take eighth place, reaching Vegas in 36h 24m. “It was brutal,” says Keith. “We were so tired during the last climb on the highway, but we kept pushing because we wanted to finish quickly. I’m destroyed.”
Roudayna’s ON Running women’s team complete the race in 42h 49m. Next year, she’s considering running it all by herself. Right now, though, she’s going to bed – the Vegas lights and post-race celebrations hold no allure.
For Tomusange and the Black Trail Runners, the final slog became a blur. Pushing on through the desert on that first night, they ran all through Saturday and into another night and day, rotating runners every 1km for the last run into Vegas, eventually completing the race in 59h 30m. “When we could see Vegas, it felt surreal that we were actually about to reach it,” recalls Tomusange. “It gave us that extra push. I couldn’t believe we’d done it. I took so many positives away; if someone asked me to do it again, I definitely would.”
The winners are ON Running’s other team, who set a new race record of 29h 26m. But this journey from one place to another is as figurative as it is literal, and every runner at the finish will take away more than the poker chip around their neck. For Casey, it’s personal redemption, and perhaps he was speaking for everyone when, exhausted at the finish line, he summed it up: “We did it one-by-one. A mile at a time. A half mile at a time. And we never lost face.”