The Speed Project: The secret 'Fight Club'-style race between Los Angeles and Las Vegas
- Published
Poole, an ultra runner from London, has competed in the past two editions of The Speed Project
"When the cops pull you over, be super nice," says Nils Arend.
"I personally have an issue with authority, but in The Speed Project you're representing all of us in every interaction.
"So be nice, be cooperative. And when they ask what you're doing just say, 'Oh, we're just a bunch of friends running to Vegas'.
"They don't need to know more or less."
Arend is sitting in a north London bar explaining the ground rules of one of the world's most sought-after ultra-running races.
Being friendly, but discreet, in the face of the law is part of the pre-race briefing he gives at The Speed Project (TSP), an unsanctioned, uned 350-mile race from Los Angeles to Las Vegas via Death Valley.
It has no website, no " here" button, no rules, no official route, no spectators and, until a week before, no official start date.
It's a "Fight Club" of the running world created in the mould of its founder. Before he found marathon running after moving to Los Angeles in the mid-2000s, Arend organised a rave night in a borrowed brothel in Hamburg's red-light district.
Despite the race's underground status, the start line is filled with some of the world's fastest athletes, and the biggest brands.
How do they get there? Well, that's a long story, shrouded in secrecy.
Arend first ran the route in 2013 as a relay with five friends - three other men and two women. Competing in that format is now known as the original (OG) way to race.
Since then, though, three other categories have been added, including, incredibly, a solo class in which British ultra-runner James Poole has competed in the last two years.
"It's difficult to not sound holier than thou, preachy, or that everyone else who is doing their thing is wrong," says Poole who, in between wild camping in derelict buildings surrounded by used gun cartridges and fuelling himself entirely with food and drink from roadside gas stations, completed the 2023 race in just under 119 hours.
"But I do think that once you have got a box full of medals you don't ever look at and a collection of T-shirts that don't mean anything to you, then going off the grid is a purist way of doing something that you love."
Arend shares the same love of the leftfield. And an outright dislike for the staid approach to competitive distance running.
"When I moved to LA, I ran a couple of marathons," he says. "But I felt so out of place. I was like 'these are not my people'.
"So the next iteration of it all was for me to start to do my own things. We create a safe place for everybody to show up the way they are. No marathon can do that. They could. But they are not doing that. They are just running their own programme like it was 25 years ago.
"There are two fields of motivation as to why people are attracted to TSP.
"One is 'OK, I want to go there, perform and crush it' and the others are 'I am going to use TSP and its community to amplify my voice, my mission, the cause I am behind'. As long as it aligns with who our community is, then that is exactly who we are for."
Most of the world's biggest running brands want to be part of Arend's vision.
The Speed Project celebrated its 10th anniversary this year and the list of brands who have sent teams is a who's who of the sport, from Nike to Tracksmith, New Balance to On Running.
Their presence on the lowest of low-key start lines - the race begins at 04:00 at Santa Monica Pier - is one of many paradoxes in an event which both courts and shuns publicity at the same time.
Stripped of all the usual trappings of high-profile running races, TSP's desirability to big brands has actually sky-rocketed.
Poole knows more about that strange irony than most.
The 47-year-old's sponsors made a short film about the event in 2022, external, accompanying him with a campervan to help with refuelling, sleeping and navigation.
This year, though, he ran the event entirely uned, the only person in the field to do so - a decision even Arend thought was "crazy".
It meant Poole was responsible not only for running more than 500km through hugely variable conditions - he spent much of the 2023 event in a padded down jacket and tros because of unseasonably low temperatures and snowstorms - he was also in charge of finding his way, his food, and his sleeping spots.
Competitors are responsible for their own route, nutrition, hydration and finding their own places to rest
"I've got a couple of niggles from TSP but I'm sure it'll be fine," he says.
It's less than two weeks after his return from Los Angeles, and Poole and I are on a 10k run along the Regent's Canal and his other regular running routes in east London.
After casually dropping into conversation the plan to run a marathon in a few days' time, Poole tries to explain the allure of the 350-mile TSP and a route that, on the face of it, is famous only for its featurelessness.
Part of his 2023 route took him down the Yermo Road - a 75-mile straight stretch of tarmac without a single turn.
"You run for six hours and you are on the same road," he says. "You do six more and then you're still on the same road.
"If you're doing about 75 miles a day as I was, then you spend the whole day on the same road without a single turn."
Paula Radcliffe used to count to 100 in her head on repeat during marathons.
"Can you imagine how many times I'd get to 100 if I did that">