MMM Atlético Takes the Speed Project

It Started With a Text 

Back in November, a message dropped in the group chat:

“We’re going to Vegas.”

That was it. There was no context, just energy. Within minutes, jokes and emojis flooded in. Beneath the chaos was a shared understanding—we were doing this.

The next few months are filled with preparation—making spreadsheets, booking AirBnbs, fundraising, etc. With so much time committed to the logistics, it’s easy to forget the impending physical feat we’re about to take on. 

Fast-forward to March. It's 4:00 a.m. at the Santa Monica Pier. The air is cold, the sky still dark, and we’re surrounded by dozens of other teams—some sponsored, some elite, and some—like us—driven by heart and ready to face the unknown.

The Speed Project (TSP) is not your typical race. It’s an unsanctioned, relay-style adventure across 340 miles of city streets, desert highways, soft sand, and uncertainty. No set course. No cheering crowds. Just runners and energy gathered from across the globe.

The Early Miles 

Crews from around the world gather in the ocean-salted air of the Santa Monica Pier, sleep deprived and excited from waking up at 2:00 am, like ravers in Brooklyn after a good night out. Our team, jittery and grinning, blends into the swarm of athletes and cameras. The countdown begins, and nerves turn electric. Tamra (Tam) Green, a close friend and previous TSP soloist from the year prior, reads a love letter from the desert that she wrote just nights before. “The desert will change you. It will take a part of you and you a part of it, ” she says. Her poetry is a soothing balm to the adrenaline coursing through the crowd. 

Before we can ooze further into her calming presence, the countdown begins. The vibes shift. It feels like Burning Man meets the starting line of a marathon meets church.

A collective countdown chants, “FIVE, FOUR, THREE, TWO, ONE,” and we’re off. 

We start together, three miles deep into the dark LA streets. From there, we break into rotation. Runners take on one- to two-mile legs while the rest of us leapfrog in support vehicles, catching each other at random gas stations and dirt pull-offs.

As the sun comes up and the city fades behind us, the real race begins.

Through the Mojave

Soledad Canyon is where things shift. The suburban sprawl gives way to the edge of the desert, and the terrain turns unforgiving. We load up on tuna onigiri, spam musubi, Vita Coco coconut water, Cheribundi tart cherry juice, LMNT electrolytes, and Spoonful overnight oats. Every runner has their favorite choice of fuel, and every choice matters. The difference between cruising and crashing might come down to what you ate an hour before.

Along with changes in diet, the desert brings a terrain much different from what we’re used to. The roads are rocky, covered in gravel and dirt, requiring runners to be more technical with their footwork. Being from New York, most of us have little experience with trail running or hills. Here, the right shoes are key. Something that can transition seamlessly from the smooth paved highway roads to the jagged rocks and sand is essential. Most of us opt for the confidence and precision of La Sportiva’s Prodigio Pros. The shoes, snug around the ankle with a cushioned tongue tab, provide ample support and keep debris out.

Despite the dryness and difficulty, there are moments of absolute beauty: running along empty desert roads with mountains in the distance, the sky turning every shade of orange and pink. There are also moments of chaos: trail confusion and run-ins with stray dogs that send us scrambling into support vehicles mid-leg. 

“Tension was high, we were all in fight or flight mode. I’m running my last 1-mile segment in Adelanto, and I see our red pickup reversing towards me with the door flung open. Wylie is yelling, ‘GET IN! GET IN! There's a dog!’ I launched myself into the trunk and we sped off to get Alan who was standing guard in case the dog popped back out. It was equally thrilling and terrifying. I wasn't playing bout’ them dogs.” - Ciara

“This race promotes no spectators, but as the route was turning from suburb to desert - finishing this segment to the sound of my team and others cheering felt electric - it lit a fire in me” —Glendys

Night Falls

Somewhere around mile 200, the race stops feeling like a relay and more like a dream. We’re all delirious, which makes the jokes funnier and the running harder. 

“There’s a chilling effect on our psyches in anticipation of the sun setting and the dark looming upon us, but I’m filled with gratitude to witness such a balance between the eeriness and beauty of it all.” —Stephanie

No one knows what time it is. People run, rest, repeat. Someone is always asleep in the back seat. Someone is always getting ready to run. The night blurs into headlights and dust. Some start receiving kisses from the desert in the form of bloody hands and scraped knees. 

“This shift was filled with uncertainty. We were running half asleep on mixed terrain and the first accident happened. 2 miles in after switching with Steph, I was sprinting downhill in pitch black darkness, and it happened again. There’s a rock in my way, and I had no time to react due to the speed I was running. I kicked the rock better than your favorite soccer player and immediately fell into the highway. Luckily, cars weren’t around at that time, otherwise that would have been it for me. Forever.” —Cesar

Powerline

Somewhere past the halfway mark, the route slips off the map and onto a stretch known only to those who’ve run it: the Powerline. A raw, desolate trail threading between massive transmission towers, it hums with heat and silence.

“The beginning of Power Line was a humbling experience. The difficulty of the terrain combined with the sun at its highest point made us quickly adjust our strategy to tackle smaller portions at a time.” —Cesar 

We shift focus to one-mile segments to prevent over-exhausting the runners. We recognize how difficult these legs can be, and as we watch each other conquer the elevation and heat, we find extra motivation within ourselves to keep moving.

“Watching the runners do mile repeats on Powerline was shocking. From the comfort of the vehicle, I had a hard time resisting the urge to nod off under the sun’s constant glare as the weight of the previous 200 miles started to sink in. I could hardly understand how they kept hopping out, stretching briefly, and taking on another mile of rolling hills with few breaks for shade or water.” —Trevor

We finally reached the last segment of Powerline—mostly downhill, but super technical and covered in rocks and gravel. One wrong step, and you’re in for a nasty fall. But Primm is now in sight—a small town mostly known for signaling one thing: Las Vegas is near.

“Knowing only 35 miles were left at Primm was the small victory my soul needed. I’d never been happier to see civilization.” —Alan

The Final Stretch

While most of the team was tackling the second leg of Powerline, a few runners were anxiously waiting in Primm to start the 35-mile stretch into Las Vegas. After what felt like an eternity, the cloud of dust gave way to the Powerline team out on the horizon, speeding down the mountain.

“Watching my warriors move in closer and closer filled me with so much unexpected emotion. My eyes watered, and my heart began to pound. This wasn’t the finish line, but the feat of Powerline was just as grand. Jonny finished the segment with the trailing vehicles close behind. We embraced each other, celebrated, and memorialized the moment with a group picture. Then, Bridget took off.” —Ciara 

The sun was starting to set once again, and night two, our final night, was upon us. Fatigue was high, but the collective desire to finish strong was greater. Three runners set off and began pushing through mile by mile to get to Vegas along a dirt path illuminated by headlights passing close by on the highway. 

“I was standing there, waiting for my segment with Gera, and one of the solo runners was going by. He stopped to chat with us. You could see the miles of strain behind his eyes, all the emotions he had felt, all the battles he had conquered. He told us he cried six times while doing Powerline, completely alone. I realized then just how important this race was, not just physically but to show ourselves how much we can overcome.” —Aimee

The glow of the city lights grows brighter and brighter, and before we know it, the towering hotel buildings and casinos come into view—the finish line is near. We decide to switch our plan: instead of running the last three miles together, we'll run only the final 0.7 miles as a group. This means two runners unexpectedly take on an extra mile.

Jhoanny quickly remaps the segments and tries to communicate the changes not just to the runners, but also to the trailing vehicles and the RV crew. His instructions to the runners are blunt: “It’s not over until we reach the Las Vegas sign—lock in.”

Aimee and Glendys are our final two solo runners, carrying us through the last 1.93 miles before we reunite and cross the finish line together. Aimee launches forward, sprinting toward the city lights as the red truck glides beside her, voices spilling out in waves of encouragement.

“I just told myself to focus on my breath and just keep moving... I don’t think I’ve ever focused so hard in my life on one thing.” —Aimee

She taps in Glendys, who surges ahead with a force that surprises even her. She digs deep, running harder, faster—the intensity nearly swallows her whole. The world blurs. All that exists is the rhythm of her body, the pounding of her heart, and then the RV, waiting like a beacon in the dark.

The Vegas Sign

While Glendys charges through her final leg, the rest of us wait in a quiet corner of a random shopping mall parking lot, nerves crackling in the air. The anticipation is thick and electric. The end of our 300+ mile journey is near—we can feel it in our bones, taste it in the dry desert wind.

“The run to the iconic Vegas sign was magical. The collective energy was bigger than anything I’d ever felt. I never expected that moment to be life-changing, but it was. The collective heartbeat. It’s engraved in my heart forever.” – Glendys

Then we’re off—together now—sprinting the final stretch toward the Vegas sign, legs burning, hearts wide open. We snap our photo, breathless and beaming, and send in our finish time: 43 hours and 25 minutes. We’ve met our unofficial goal—to be the fastest team from New York—but none of us are thinking about that.

All we can feel is this—the weight of what we’ve done, the depth of what we’ve shared. We fall into each other’s arms, laughing, crying, collapsing onto the turf beneath the glowing sign.

“Words will never fully capture the growth and love we experienced that weekend, but I can confidently say that TSP will change you in ways you never knew you needed.” - Kat Lam

It’s a Saturday night in Las Vegas. Slowly, bachelorette parties and tourists replace us. No one around us knows what we’ve just been through. But we do. And we always will.