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Solis by James Poole

Desert, Style and Solitude

I don’t think running has special meanings, but I think the way you run carries meaning, makes sense, consciously or not. In ultrarunning, it is not only running hard and far that counts, but also the style and attitude with which you do it. More or less we all know what we are talking about when it comes to style. Style is what makes one course of action recognizable over another. A singing style, a painting style, a mountaineering style.

Style is not something outward or superficial, it is not limited to appearance, it is not the look. Style is something extremely personal, and it is almost always driven by reason. You don’t randomly decide whether to participate in a race with 3,000 participants or to run 100 miles alone behind the house, or in the Sahara desert, there is always a reason. Then it may be more or less deep, more or less reasoned, more or less conscious, but it is there. This is why The Speed Project is worth talking about. Not because it is a desert race, not because it starts in Los Angeles, but because it comes from an idea, and in the end it is the ideas that we are interested in.

The Speed Project is an approximately 500-kilometerraceborn in the Los Angeles ultrarunning environment. Where, as in other major cities, alternative running communities have sprung up in recent years. These are often environments that are clearly tied to an aesthetic horizon, somewhat hipster and sometimes cloying, but are becoming in effect a face of the sport.

The course starts in Santa Monica and finishes at the Las Vegas billboard and traditionally is run in relay, in teams of six runners, other than that there are no rules: there is no assistance from theorganization, assuming there is one, there is no defined route outside of the start and thearrival, and there is no audience (at least in intention), of course there is no website, but there is an Instagram page-because nothing is fundamental, but something is more fundamental than something else.

Why do more and more people feel the urge to organize self-directed events that break out of the format and standardization of traditional competitions? There are as many reasons as there are people who do it, some times they are deep, others they are more superficial and driven by throwaway approaches-“it sounds cool, I want to do it too.

A short or long time ago, depending on when you read this article, James Poole, London-based ultrarunner for The North Face and Alba Optics, ran TSP solo; on his attempt The North Face produced an 11-minute short film entitled Solis. A few days before meeting him in Chamonix, we asked him to tell us about his crossing, and where the need to do it came from.

When did you decide to run TSP, and why?

I decided to try this project in 2019, when Nils, the co-founder, contacted me about it. Then the Covid came along and I couldn’t do it until this year. I wanted to try it because it really seemed like an epic adventure, a unique way to see places I had never seen before. And the simple idea that I was pretty good on very long things, and that I could do this thing after two years of not having the opportunity. It’s a simple enough reason, but it really wasn’t to win it. I was only interested in going out there and running in the desert and having an adventure.

The TSP has no official route, how did you trace it?

Yes, there is no designated path. There is something called the OG route,’ which consists of the route used by the first team in 2012. In my case, I was trying to have the biggest adventure I could, and I love running in the mountains. So I added the climb to Mount Baldy, before launching into the Mojave Desert following the most linear line possible to Vegas, I used Komoot to plot the entire route, it was essential to use this app.

Tell me about the desert

My only two desert experiences have been in the Mojave and the Gobi, which is certainly not like the Sahara, with miles and miles of sand dunes. Nevertheless, the Gobi is really sharp, and the Mojave and Death Valley in many ways are no different. In both cases you barely find any life forms, simply because things there do not survive. During all the time I spent in Death Valley, I saw nothing: no reflections of eyes in the night, no spiders or insects. It was simply isolated, barren, and almost completely lifeless. So to see my team was such a beautiful thing, because I had seen literally nothing or no one for hours and hours. But I like running in the desert, there is a certain sense of quiet in the solitude, which is something quite rare today. But to be down there in the darkness and silence of the night is something cathartic.

From your perspective, what drives certain people to organize ultrarunning events outside of traditional races?

In terms of the Speed Project organization, it is definitely Nils, one of the co-founders, who is undoubtedly an interesting, colorful character, and a kind of rebel against bureaucracy and the norm. In fact, there are no rules outside of the fact that you have to start at the Santa Monica Pier and you have to arrive at the Welcomesign in Las Vegas.

Under an aspect of commercialization of sports. I think TSP clashes with it. Of course, I’m sitting here in Chamonix now, where UTMB has totally commercialized the race by sponsoring anything that can be sponsored, and I’m not against that. But TSP is sort of the antithesis, and I think it’s nice to have a situation where different types of races coexist. On the other side of the coin, The Speed Project has commercial sponsors, and many brands have had a team participating in the past. So the commercialization is there, but it seems more underground. It is pure running sense. It’s literally you versus the street, and brands don’t really have an impact on that.

What is the future of these events in the landscape of theultrarunning?

For the future of ultrarunning events, we see increasing popularity, especially for races like UTMB. But again, on the other side, we’ve seen a growing interest in fatigue over the last few years, and I think it will continue to grow, because as I also say in the film, at some point, your motivation goes beyond medals t-shirts and podiums or milestones, and you start looking for something else. Without a doubt I am looking for something different, something that has a story, something that allows me to meet and get to know people I didn’t know. And that doesn’t always happen in organized races, so yes, I think we will see more and more initiatives like the TSP. At least I hope so.

What was it like to run 500k with a camera around? Didn’t it put you under pressure?

So, the idea was that they should not interfere with my race at all. I had given him strict instructions not to encourage or support me in any way. What happened then is that the distance between the refreshments was huge and I had underestimated it, and they started to provide me with water and assistance, as well as obviously being someone to see from time to time. When you run something like 500 kilometers you have to change your plans as you go along. So they started giving me water, which was objectively a lifesaver. And I would say no, it wasn’t particularly stressful because they weren’t supposed to be involved, but simply to be there and document it. As for the expectations of others, it was not something I was doing for someone else. It was a selfish act to go off the radar for four and a half days. I don’t think one jumps into these distances worrying about what other people think. I don’t think it’s important, it’s just running, it’s not that important. It’s not about world peace, it’s literally about putting one step in front of another, and if people have expectations of me on that, that’s their problem, not mine.