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“As we consoled each other amidst the post-TSP blues, we arrived at the conclusion that this experience is not to be understood–it is to be felt. Without knowing it, we’ve been whispering “Gentle Lives Tell No Stories” all along the 600-mile SF Outpost stretch.

I used to write. Mostly thoughtless evictions of words waiting for context to steep. It was Zen. It was jazz. There’s some words I scribbled in 2018 which took 8 years to find its meaning:

i am the burning bridge
searing in radiance
like the bright of warmth
moths orbit toward
in dancing delirium
dazed by the flight of hopeful promises

i am run on sentences
cut short by pensive marauders
looting elusive truths
with menacing momentum

i am the fleeting moment that can
only be chased but never caught
like the face of naught living isolated in
California Camelots

only that was all
until i wasn’t.”

Photos and reflection by @jearski
From the SF OUTPOST.

“As we consoled each other amidst the post-TSP blues, we arrived at the conclusion that this experience is not to be understood–it is to be felt. Without knowing it, we’ve been whispering “Gentle Lives Tell No Stories” all along the 600-mile SF Outpost stretch.

I used to write. Mostly thoughtless evictions of words waiting for context to steep. It was Zen. It was jazz. There’s some words I scribbled in 2018 which took 8 years to find its meaning:

i am the burning bridge
searing in radiance
like the bright of warmth
moths orbit toward
in dancing delirium
dazed by the flight of hopeful promises

i am run on sentences
cut short by pensive marauders
looting elusive truths
with menacing momentum

i am the fleeting moment that can
only be chased but never caught
like the face of naught living isolated in
California Camelots

only that was all
until i wasn’t.”

Photos and reflection by @jearski
From the SF OUTPOST.

“As we consoled each other amidst the post-TSP blues, we arrived at the conclusion that this experience is not to be understood–it is to be felt. Without knowing it, we’ve been whispering “Gentle Lives Tell No Stories” all along the 600-mile SF Outpost stretch.

I used to write. Mostly thoughtless evictions of words waiting for context to steep. It was Zen. It was jazz. There’s some words I scribbled in 2018 which took 8 years to find its meaning:

i am the burning bridge
searing in radiance
like the bright of warmth
moths orbit toward
in dancing delirium
dazed by the flight of hopeful promises

i am run on sentences
cut short by pensive marauders
looting elusive truths
with menacing momentum

i am the fleeting moment that can
only be chased but never caught
like the face of naught living isolated in
California Camelots

only that was all
until i wasn’t.”

Photos and reflection by @jearski
From the SF OUTPOST.

“As we consoled each other amidst the post-TSP blues, we arrived at the conclusion that this experience is not to be understood–it is to be felt. Without knowing it, we’ve been whispering “Gentle Lives Tell No Stories” all along the 600-mile SF Outpost stretch.

I used to write. Mostly thoughtless evictions of words waiting for context to steep. It was Zen. It was jazz. There’s some words I scribbled in 2018 which took 8 years to find its meaning:

i am the burning bridge
searing in radiance
like the bright of warmth
moths orbit toward
in dancing delirium
dazed by the flight of hopeful promises

i am run on sentences
cut short by pensive marauders
looting elusive truths
with menacing momentum

i am the fleeting moment that can
only be chased but never caught
like the face of naught living isolated in
California Camelots

only that was all
until i wasn’t.”

Photos and reflection by @jearski
From the SF OUTPOST.

“As we consoled each other amidst the post-TSP blues, we arrived at the conclusion that this experience is not to be understood–it is to be felt. Without knowing it, we’ve been whispering “Gentle Lives Tell No Stories” all along the 600-mile SF Outpost stretch.

I used to write. Mostly thoughtless evictions of words waiting for context to steep. It was Zen. It was jazz. There’s some words I scribbled in 2018 which took 8 years to find its meaning:

i am the burning bridge
searing in radiance
like the bright of warmth
moths orbit toward
in dancing delirium
dazed by the flight of hopeful promises

i am run on sentences
cut short by pensive marauders
looting elusive truths
with menacing momentum

i am the fleeting moment that can
only be chased but never caught
like the face of naught living isolated in
California Camelots

only that was all
until i wasn’t.”

Photos and reflection by @jearski
From the SF OUTPOST.

“As we consoled each other amidst the post-TSP blues, we arrived at the conclusion that this experience is not to be understood–it is to be felt. Without knowing it, we’ve been whispering “Gentle Lives Tell No Stories” all along the 600-mile SF Outpost stretch.

I used to write. Mostly thoughtless evictions of words waiting for context to steep. It was Zen. It was jazz. There’s some words I scribbled in 2018 which took 8 years to find its meaning:

i am the burning bridge
searing in radiance
like the bright of warmth
moths orbit toward
in dancing delirium
dazed by the flight of hopeful promises

i am run on sentences
cut short by pensive marauders
looting elusive truths
with menacing momentum

i am the fleeting moment that can
only be chased but never caught
like the face of naught living isolated in
California Camelots

only that was all
until i wasn’t.”

Photos and reflection by @jearski
From the SF OUTPOST.

“As we consoled each other amidst the post-TSP blues, we arrived at the conclusion that this experience is not to be understood–it is to be felt. Without knowing it, we’ve been whispering “Gentle Lives Tell No Stories” all along the 600-mile SF Outpost stretch.

I used to write. Mostly thoughtless evictions of words waiting for context to steep. It was Zen. It was jazz. There’s some words I scribbled in 2018 which took 8 years to find its meaning:

i am the burning bridge
searing in radiance
like the bright of warmth
moths orbit toward
in dancing delirium
dazed by the flight of hopeful promises

i am run on sentences
cut short by pensive marauders
looting elusive truths
with menacing momentum

i am the fleeting moment that can
only be chased but never caught
like the face of naught living isolated in
California Camelots

only that was all
until i wasn’t.”

Photos and reflection by @jearski
From the SF OUTPOST.

“As we consoled each other amidst the post-TSP blues, we arrived at the conclusion that this experience is not to be understood–it is to be felt. Without knowing it, we’ve been whispering “Gentle Lives Tell No Stories” all along the 600-mile SF Outpost stretch.

I used to write. Mostly thoughtless evictions of words waiting for context to steep. It was Zen. It was jazz. There’s some words I scribbled in 2018 which took 8 years to find its meaning:

i am the burning bridge
searing in radiance
like the bright of warmth
moths orbit toward
in dancing delirium
dazed by the flight of hopeful promises

i am run on sentences
cut short by pensive marauders
looting elusive truths
with menacing momentum

i am the fleeting moment that can
only be chased but never caught
like the face of naught living isolated in
California Camelots

only that was all
until i wasn’t.”

Photos and reflection by @jearski
From the SF OUTPOST.

“As we consoled each other amidst the post-TSP blues, we arrived at the conclusion that this experience is not to be understood–it is to be felt. Without knowing it, we’ve been whispering “Gentle Lives Tell No Stories” all along the 600-mile SF Outpost stretch.

I used to write. Mostly thoughtless evictions of words waiting for context to steep. It was Zen. It was jazz. There’s some words I scribbled in 2018 which took 8 years to find its meaning:

i am the burning bridge
searing in radiance
like the bright of warmth
moths orbit toward
in dancing delirium
dazed by the flight of hopeful promises

i am run on sentences
cut short by pensive marauders
looting elusive truths
with menacing momentum

i am the fleeting moment that can
only be chased but never caught
like the face of naught living isolated in
California Camelots

only that was all
until i wasn’t.”

Photos and reflection by @jearski
From the SF OUTPOST.

“As we consoled each other amidst the post-TSP blues, we arrived at the conclusion that this experience is not to be understood–it is to be felt. Without knowing it, we’ve been whispering “Gentle Lives Tell No Stories” all along the 600-mile SF Outpost stretch.

I used to write. Mostly thoughtless evictions of words waiting for context to steep. It was Zen. It was jazz. There’s some words I scribbled in 2018 which took 8 years to find its meaning:

i am the burning bridge
searing in radiance
like the bright of warmth
moths orbit toward
in dancing delirium
dazed by the flight of hopeful promises

i am run on sentences
cut short by pensive marauders
looting elusive truths
with menacing momentum

i am the fleeting moment that can
only be chased but never caught
like the face of naught living isolated in
California Camelots

only that was all
until i wasn’t.”

Photos and reflection by @jearski
From the SF OUTPOST.

“We aren’t in the business of free lunches.

Deeper into the Mojave
Deeper sinks Truth’s teeth into my chest

There is nowhere you can hide from yourself
Nowhere worth trying

What a waste to pick all the meat from the bone,
What good will it do days spent alone?

Be born again and again and again
Taste the food you eat
Cherish the ache of your bones and the burn of their dressings
Tattoo your mind with the smiles of those searching with you

There’s no such thing as a free lunch-
But I don’t think I mind covering this one.“

Photos and reflection by @derek_brajevich

“We aren’t in the business of free lunches.

Deeper into the Mojave
Deeper sinks Truth’s teeth into my chest

There is nowhere you can hide from yourself
Nowhere worth trying

What a waste to pick all the meat from the bone,
What good will it do days spent alone?

Be born again and again and again
Taste the food you eat
Cherish the ache of your bones and the burn of their dressings
Tattoo your mind with the smiles of those searching with you

There’s no such thing as a free lunch-
But I don’t think I mind covering this one.“

Photos and reflection by @derek_brajevich

“We aren’t in the business of free lunches.

Deeper into the Mojave
Deeper sinks Truth’s teeth into my chest

There is nowhere you can hide from yourself
Nowhere worth trying

What a waste to pick all the meat from the bone,
What good will it do days spent alone?

Be born again and again and again
Taste the food you eat
Cherish the ache of your bones and the burn of their dressings
Tattoo your mind with the smiles of those searching with you

There’s no such thing as a free lunch-
But I don’t think I mind covering this one.“

Photos and reflection by @derek_brajevich

“We aren’t in the business of free lunches.

Deeper into the Mojave
Deeper sinks Truth’s teeth into my chest

There is nowhere you can hide from yourself
Nowhere worth trying

What a waste to pick all the meat from the bone,
What good will it do days spent alone?

Be born again and again and again
Taste the food you eat
Cherish the ache of your bones and the burn of their dressings
Tattoo your mind with the smiles of those searching with you

There’s no such thing as a free lunch-
But I don’t think I mind covering this one.“

Photos and reflection by @derek_brajevich

“We aren’t in the business of free lunches.

Deeper into the Mojave
Deeper sinks Truth’s teeth into my chest

There is nowhere you can hide from yourself
Nowhere worth trying

What a waste to pick all the meat from the bone,
What good will it do days spent alone?

Be born again and again and again
Taste the food you eat
Cherish the ache of your bones and the burn of their dressings
Tattoo your mind with the smiles of those searching with you

There’s no such thing as a free lunch-
But I don’t think I mind covering this one.“

Photos and reflection by @derek_brajevich

“We aren’t in the business of free lunches.

Deeper into the Mojave
Deeper sinks Truth’s teeth into my chest

There is nowhere you can hide from yourself
Nowhere worth trying

What a waste to pick all the meat from the bone,
What good will it do days spent alone?

Be born again and again and again
Taste the food you eat
Cherish the ache of your bones and the burn of their dressings
Tattoo your mind with the smiles of those searching with you

There’s no such thing as a free lunch-
But I don’t think I mind covering this one.“

Photos and reflection by @derek_brajevich

“We aren’t in the business of free lunches.

Deeper into the Mojave
Deeper sinks Truth’s teeth into my chest

There is nowhere you can hide from yourself
Nowhere worth trying

What a waste to pick all the meat from the bone,
What good will it do days spent alone?

Be born again and again and again
Taste the food you eat
Cherish the ache of your bones and the burn of their dressings
Tattoo your mind with the smiles of those searching with you

There’s no such thing as a free lunch-
But I don’t think I mind covering this one.“

Photos and reflection by @derek_brajevich

“Maybe it means nothing happens at a distance.

We arrived as coordinates—Tokyo, Brussels, Amsterdam, Seoul, New York, LA, Toronto. Names without weight. Strangers passing water, sharing silence.

Then the desert stretched everything thin. Time, sleep, language.

And something shifted.

Edges softened. Guards dropped. We stopped introducing ourselves and just started knowing.

Not through words, but through effort. Through showing up, again and again, for people we had just met.

The story wasn’t in the running. It was in what formed between it.”

Photos and reflection by @johnnytvng

Distance brought us closer.

“Maybe it means nothing happens at a distance.

We arrived as coordinates—Tokyo, Brussels, Amsterdam, Seoul, New York, LA, Toronto. Names without weight. Strangers passing water, sharing silence.

Then the desert stretched everything thin. Time, sleep, language.

And something shifted.

Edges softened. Guards dropped. We stopped introducing ourselves and just started knowing.

Not through words, but through effort. Through showing up, again and again, for people we had just met.

The story wasn’t in the running. It was in what formed between it.”

Photos and reflection by @johnnytvng

Distance brought us closer.

“Maybe it means nothing happens at a distance.

We arrived as coordinates—Tokyo, Brussels, Amsterdam, Seoul, New York, LA, Toronto. Names without weight. Strangers passing water, sharing silence.

Then the desert stretched everything thin. Time, sleep, language.

And something shifted.

Edges softened. Guards dropped. We stopped introducing ourselves and just started knowing.

Not through words, but through effort. Through showing up, again and again, for people we had just met.

The story wasn’t in the running. It was in what formed between it.”

Photos and reflection by @johnnytvng

Distance brought us closer.

“Maybe it means nothing happens at a distance.

We arrived as coordinates—Tokyo, Brussels, Amsterdam, Seoul, New York, LA, Toronto. Names without weight. Strangers passing water, sharing silence.

Then the desert stretched everything thin. Time, sleep, language.

And something shifted.

Edges softened. Guards dropped. We stopped introducing ourselves and just started knowing.

Not through words, but through effort. Through showing up, again and again, for people we had just met.

The story wasn’t in the running. It was in what formed between it.”

Photos and reflection by @johnnytvng

Distance brought us closer.

“Maybe it means nothing happens at a distance.

We arrived as coordinates—Tokyo, Brussels, Amsterdam, Seoul, New York, LA, Toronto. Names without weight. Strangers passing water, sharing silence.

Then the desert stretched everything thin. Time, sleep, language.

And something shifted.

Edges softened. Guards dropped. We stopped introducing ourselves and just started knowing.

Not through words, but through effort. Through showing up, again and again, for people we had just met.

The story wasn’t in the running. It was in what formed between it.”

Photos and reflection by @johnnytvng

Distance brought us closer.

“Maybe it means nothing happens at a distance.

We arrived as coordinates—Tokyo, Brussels, Amsterdam, Seoul, New York, LA, Toronto. Names without weight. Strangers passing water, sharing silence.

Then the desert stretched everything thin. Time, sleep, language.

And something shifted.

Edges softened. Guards dropped. We stopped introducing ourselves and just started knowing.

Not through words, but through effort. Through showing up, again and again, for people we had just met.

The story wasn’t in the running. It was in what formed between it.”

Photos and reflection by @johnnytvng

Distance brought us closer.

“Maybe it means nothing happens at a distance.

We arrived as coordinates—Tokyo, Brussels, Amsterdam, Seoul, New York, LA, Toronto. Names without weight. Strangers passing water, sharing silence.

Then the desert stretched everything thin. Time, sleep, language.

And something shifted.

Edges softened. Guards dropped. We stopped introducing ourselves and just started knowing.

Not through words, but through effort. Through showing up, again and again, for people we had just met.

The story wasn’t in the running. It was in what formed between it.”

Photos and reflection by @johnnytvng

Distance brought us closer.

“Maybe it means nothing happens at a distance.

We arrived as coordinates—Tokyo, Brussels, Amsterdam, Seoul, New York, LA, Toronto. Names without weight. Strangers passing water, sharing silence.

Then the desert stretched everything thin. Time, sleep, language.

And something shifted.

Edges softened. Guards dropped. We stopped introducing ourselves and just started knowing.

Not through words, but through effort. Through showing up, again and again, for people we had just met.

The story wasn’t in the running. It was in what formed between it.”

Photos and reflection by @johnnytvng

Distance brought us closer.

“Maybe it means nothing happens at a distance.

We arrived as coordinates—Tokyo, Brussels, Amsterdam, Seoul, New York, LA, Toronto. Names without weight. Strangers passing water, sharing silence.

Then the desert stretched everything thin. Time, sleep, language.

And something shifted.

Edges softened. Guards dropped. We stopped introducing ourselves and just started knowing.

Not through words, but through effort. Through showing up, again and again, for people we had just met.

The story wasn’t in the running. It was in what formed between it.”

Photos and reflection by @johnnytvng

Distance brought us closer.

“What will be our story?

One day
When our bones are brittle and our bodies are spent
When it’s our turn to fill small heads with wonder

I will say to them,
As my voice cracks and my vision fails

Pursue the Sublime
Fear the absence of Fear
Let Doubt be your Fuel
And Joy be your Destination

The joy of a child
The joy of simple acts
The joy of exploration
The joy of togetherness

Comfort will sedate you
And rob your grandchildren of this inheritance

So grit your teeth and smile
Take up the hands of those beside you
And step endlessly forward

Toward distant horizons
Across massive space
Through pain
Through thick night

And find that our story is written
Upon the sands of the desert
With sweat for ink.”

Photos and reflection by @ethanjsphotography

“What will be our story?

One day
When our bones are brittle and our bodies are spent
When it’s our turn to fill small heads with wonder

I will say to them,
As my voice cracks and my vision fails

Pursue the Sublime
Fear the absence of Fear
Let Doubt be your Fuel
And Joy be your Destination

The joy of a child
The joy of simple acts
The joy of exploration
The joy of togetherness

Comfort will sedate you
And rob your grandchildren of this inheritance

So grit your teeth and smile
Take up the hands of those beside you
And step endlessly forward

Toward distant horizons
Across massive space
Through pain
Through thick night

And find that our story is written
Upon the sands of the desert
With sweat for ink.”

Photos and reflection by @ethanjsphotography

“What will be our story?

One day
When our bones are brittle and our bodies are spent
When it’s our turn to fill small heads with wonder

I will say to them,
As my voice cracks and my vision fails

Pursue the Sublime
Fear the absence of Fear
Let Doubt be your Fuel
And Joy be your Destination

The joy of a child
The joy of simple acts
The joy of exploration
The joy of togetherness

Comfort will sedate you
And rob your grandchildren of this inheritance

So grit your teeth and smile
Take up the hands of those beside you
And step endlessly forward

Toward distant horizons
Across massive space
Through pain
Through thick night

And find that our story is written
Upon the sands of the desert
With sweat for ink.”

Photos and reflection by @ethanjsphotography

“What will be our story?

One day
When our bones are brittle and our bodies are spent
When it’s our turn to fill small heads with wonder

I will say to them,
As my voice cracks and my vision fails

Pursue the Sublime
Fear the absence of Fear
Let Doubt be your Fuel
And Joy be your Destination

The joy of a child
The joy of simple acts
The joy of exploration
The joy of togetherness

Comfort will sedate you
And rob your grandchildren of this inheritance

So grit your teeth and smile
Take up the hands of those beside you
And step endlessly forward

Toward distant horizons
Across massive space
Through pain
Through thick night

And find that our story is written
Upon the sands of the desert
With sweat for ink.”

Photos and reflection by @ethanjsphotography

“What will be our story?

One day
When our bones are brittle and our bodies are spent
When it’s our turn to fill small heads with wonder

I will say to them,
As my voice cracks and my vision fails

Pursue the Sublime
Fear the absence of Fear
Let Doubt be your Fuel
And Joy be your Destination

The joy of a child
The joy of simple acts
The joy of exploration
The joy of togetherness

Comfort will sedate you
And rob your grandchildren of this inheritance

So grit your teeth and smile
Take up the hands of those beside you
And step endlessly forward

Toward distant horizons
Across massive space
Through pain
Through thick night

And find that our story is written
Upon the sands of the desert
With sweat for ink.”

Photos and reflection by @ethanjsphotography

“What will be our story?

One day
When our bones are brittle and our bodies are spent
When it’s our turn to fill small heads with wonder

I will say to them,
As my voice cracks and my vision fails

Pursue the Sublime
Fear the absence of Fear
Let Doubt be your Fuel
And Joy be your Destination

The joy of a child
The joy of simple acts
The joy of exploration
The joy of togetherness

Comfort will sedate you
And rob your grandchildren of this inheritance

So grit your teeth and smile
Take up the hands of those beside you
And step endlessly forward

Toward distant horizons
Across massive space
Through pain
Through thick night

And find that our story is written
Upon the sands of the desert
With sweat for ink.”

Photos and reflection by @ethanjsphotography

“What will be our story?

One day
When our bones are brittle and our bodies are spent
When it’s our turn to fill small heads with wonder

I will say to them,
As my voice cracks and my vision fails

Pursue the Sublime
Fear the absence of Fear
Let Doubt be your Fuel
And Joy be your Destination

The joy of a child
The joy of simple acts
The joy of exploration
The joy of togetherness

Comfort will sedate you
And rob your grandchildren of this inheritance

So grit your teeth and smile
Take up the hands of those beside you
And step endlessly forward

Toward distant horizons
Across massive space
Through pain
Through thick night

And find that our story is written
Upon the sands of the desert
With sweat for ink.”

Photos and reflection by @ethanjsphotography

“Take a left off the I-15 and you might just have the time of your life.

It was always about getting to LV — and getting there as fast as possible.
But standing under the Welcome to Vegas sign, part of me wished we were still out on the road.

One last stretch in the dark.

Because somewhere along the way, a random group of athletes and crew didn’t feel so random anymore.
We shared those miles.

Crossing under that sign was the goal.
But it didn’t feel like the best part.”

Photos and reflection by @__brndnr

“Take a left off the I-15 and you might just have the time of your life.

It was always about getting to LV — and getting there as fast as possible.
But standing under the Welcome to Vegas sign, part of me wished we were still out on the road.

One last stretch in the dark.

Because somewhere along the way, a random group of athletes and crew didn’t feel so random anymore.
We shared those miles.

Crossing under that sign was the goal.
But it didn’t feel like the best part.”

Photos and reflection by @__brndnr

“Take a left off the I-15 and you might just have the time of your life.

It was always about getting to LV — and getting there as fast as possible.
But standing under the Welcome to Vegas sign, part of me wished we were still out on the road.

One last stretch in the dark.

Because somewhere along the way, a random group of athletes and crew didn’t feel so random anymore.
We shared those miles.

Crossing under that sign was the goal.
But it didn’t feel like the best part.”

Photos and reflection by @__brndnr

“Take a left off the I-15 and you might just have the time of your life.

It was always about getting to LV — and getting there as fast as possible.
But standing under the Welcome to Vegas sign, part of me wished we were still out on the road.

One last stretch in the dark.

Because somewhere along the way, a random group of athletes and crew didn’t feel so random anymore.
We shared those miles.

Crossing under that sign was the goal.
But it didn’t feel like the best part.”

Photos and reflection by @__brndnr

“Take a left off the I-15 and you might just have the time of your life.

It was always about getting to LV — and getting there as fast as possible.
But standing under the Welcome to Vegas sign, part of me wished we were still out on the road.

One last stretch in the dark.

Because somewhere along the way, a random group of athletes and crew didn’t feel so random anymore.
We shared those miles.

Crossing under that sign was the goal.
But it didn’t feel like the best part.”

Photos and reflection by @__brndnr

“Take a left off the I-15 and you might just have the time of your life.

It was always about getting to LV — and getting there as fast as possible.
But standing under the Welcome to Vegas sign, part of me wished we were still out on the road.

One last stretch in the dark.

Because somewhere along the way, a random group of athletes and crew didn’t feel so random anymore.
We shared those miles.

Crossing under that sign was the goal.
But it didn’t feel like the best part.”

Photos and reflection by @__brndnr

“Take a left off the I-15 and you might just have the time of your life.

It was always about getting to LV — and getting there as fast as possible.
But standing under the Welcome to Vegas sign, part of me wished we were still out on the road.

One last stretch in the dark.

Because somewhere along the way, a random group of athletes and crew didn’t feel so random anymore.
We shared those miles.

Crossing under that sign was the goal.
But it didn’t feel like the best part.”

Photos and reflection by @__brndnr

“Take a left off the I-15 and you might just have the time of your life.

It was always about getting to LV — and getting there as fast as possible.
But standing under the Welcome to Vegas sign, part of me wished we were still out on the road.

One last stretch in the dark.

Because somewhere along the way, a random group of athletes and crew didn’t feel so random anymore.
We shared those miles.

Crossing under that sign was the goal.
But it didn’t feel like the best part.”

Photos and reflection by @__brndnr

“Take a left off the I-15 and you might just have the time of your life.

It was always about getting to LV — and getting there as fast as possible.
But standing under the Welcome to Vegas sign, part of me wished we were still out on the road.

One last stretch in the dark.

Because somewhere along the way, a random group of athletes and crew didn’t feel so random anymore.
We shared those miles.

Crossing under that sign was the goal.
But it didn’t feel like the best part.”

Photos and reflection by @__brndnr

“Take a left off the I-15 and you might just have the time of your life.

It was always about getting to LV — and getting there as fast as possible.
But standing under the Welcome to Vegas sign, part of me wished we were still out on the road.

One last stretch in the dark.

Because somewhere along the way, a random group of athletes and crew didn’t feel so random anymore.
We shared those miles.

Crossing under that sign was the goal.
But it didn’t feel like the best part.”

Photos and reflection by @__brndnr

“After returning our rental car, we got fined for having "excessive dirt". This stuck with me though: excessive dirt. I will admit, dirt was everywhere; after all, we bring the dirt from the desert and the dirt that we carry within us.

I carry the dirt that accumulated in my camera bag and the dirt from running through the sand.

I carry the dirt from our friend who no longer gets to run. His dirt sits heavy in my pocket and I hope it never washes away.

We clean our teeth but keep the grit with us for the next time we need it.

In the end, we contested the fine, washing away the charge, but if we look under the floormats, we just might find a little more dirt from places unexpected.”

Photos and reflection by @richnotdick

“After returning our rental car, we got fined for having "excessive dirt". This stuck with me though: excessive dirt. I will admit, dirt was everywhere; after all, we bring the dirt from the desert and the dirt that we carry within us.

I carry the dirt that accumulated in my camera bag and the dirt from running through the sand.

I carry the dirt from our friend who no longer gets to run. His dirt sits heavy in my pocket and I hope it never washes away.

We clean our teeth but keep the grit with us for the next time we need it.

In the end, we contested the fine, washing away the charge, but if we look under the floormats, we just might find a little more dirt from places unexpected.”

Photos and reflection by @richnotdick

“After returning our rental car, we got fined for having "excessive dirt". This stuck with me though: excessive dirt. I will admit, dirt was everywhere; after all, we bring the dirt from the desert and the dirt that we carry within us.

I carry the dirt that accumulated in my camera bag and the dirt from running through the sand.

I carry the dirt from our friend who no longer gets to run. His dirt sits heavy in my pocket and I hope it never washes away.

We clean our teeth but keep the grit with us for the next time we need it.

In the end, we contested the fine, washing away the charge, but if we look under the floormats, we just might find a little more dirt from places unexpected.”

Photos and reflection by @richnotdick

“After returning our rental car, we got fined for having "excessive dirt". This stuck with me though: excessive dirt. I will admit, dirt was everywhere; after all, we bring the dirt from the desert and the dirt that we carry within us.

I carry the dirt that accumulated in my camera bag and the dirt from running through the sand.

I carry the dirt from our friend who no longer gets to run. His dirt sits heavy in my pocket and I hope it never washes away.

We clean our teeth but keep the grit with us for the next time we need it.

In the end, we contested the fine, washing away the charge, but if we look under the floormats, we just might find a little more dirt from places unexpected.”

Photos and reflection by @richnotdick

“After returning our rental car, we got fined for having "excessive dirt". This stuck with me though: excessive dirt. I will admit, dirt was everywhere; after all, we bring the dirt from the desert and the dirt that we carry within us.

I carry the dirt that accumulated in my camera bag and the dirt from running through the sand.

I carry the dirt from our friend who no longer gets to run. His dirt sits heavy in my pocket and I hope it never washes away.

We clean our teeth but keep the grit with us for the next time we need it.

In the end, we contested the fine, washing away the charge, but if we look under the floormats, we just might find a little more dirt from places unexpected.”

Photos and reflection by @richnotdick

“After returning our rental car, we got fined for having "excessive dirt". This stuck with me though: excessive dirt. I will admit, dirt was everywhere; after all, we bring the dirt from the desert and the dirt that we carry within us.

I carry the dirt that accumulated in my camera bag and the dirt from running through the sand.

I carry the dirt from our friend who no longer gets to run. His dirt sits heavy in my pocket and I hope it never washes away.

We clean our teeth but keep the grit with us for the next time we need it.

In the end, we contested the fine, washing away the charge, but if we look under the floormats, we just might find a little more dirt from places unexpected.”

Photos and reflection by @richnotdick

“After returning our rental car, we got fined for having "excessive dirt". This stuck with me though: excessive dirt. I will admit, dirt was everywhere; after all, we bring the dirt from the desert and the dirt that we carry within us.

I carry the dirt that accumulated in my camera bag and the dirt from running through the sand.

I carry the dirt from our friend who no longer gets to run. His dirt sits heavy in my pocket and I hope it never washes away.

We clean our teeth but keep the grit with us for the next time we need it.

In the end, we contested the fine, washing away the charge, but if we look under the floormats, we just might find a little more dirt from places unexpected.”

Photos and reflection by @richnotdick

“After returning our rental car, we got fined for having "excessive dirt". This stuck with me though: excessive dirt. I will admit, dirt was everywhere; after all, we bring the dirt from the desert and the dirt that we carry within us.

I carry the dirt that accumulated in my camera bag and the dirt from running through the sand.

I carry the dirt from our friend who no longer gets to run. His dirt sits heavy in my pocket and I hope it never washes away.

We clean our teeth but keep the grit with us for the next time we need it.

In the end, we contested the fine, washing away the charge, but if we look under the floormats, we just might find a little more dirt from places unexpected.”

Photos and reflection by @richnotdick

“It reminds me that growth doesn’t come from comfort. It comes from resistance. It comes from the moments where we feel stretched beyond our limits, where doubt is loud and where continuing forward feels almost impossible. Those are the moments where breakthroughs happen and we meet a version of us we hadn’t met yet.

What stayed with me the most from this experience was the heart that carried this team to finish. Something powerful unfolded out in the desert. The team lifted each other when it got hard. Strangers became teammates and teammates became family. Stripped of comfort and routine, what remained was resilience, connection and an unspoken commitment to not quit. It was raw humanity. It showed me that doing hard things isn’t just about endurance, but about transformation. Because in the moments we feel like we can’t go on and we choose to take one more step anyway, we meet our greatness.”

Photos and reflection by @seenbyliz_

“It reminds me that growth doesn’t come from comfort. It comes from resistance. It comes from the moments where we feel stretched beyond our limits, where doubt is loud and where continuing forward feels almost impossible. Those are the moments where breakthroughs happen and we meet a version of us we hadn’t met yet.

What stayed with me the most from this experience was the heart that carried this team to finish. Something powerful unfolded out in the desert. The team lifted each other when it got hard. Strangers became teammates and teammates became family. Stripped of comfort and routine, what remained was resilience, connection and an unspoken commitment to not quit. It was raw humanity. It showed me that doing hard things isn’t just about endurance, but about transformation. Because in the moments we feel like we can’t go on and we choose to take one more step anyway, we meet our greatness.”

Photos and reflection by @seenbyliz_

“It reminds me that growth doesn’t come from comfort. It comes from resistance. It comes from the moments where we feel stretched beyond our limits, where doubt is loud and where continuing forward feels almost impossible. Those are the moments where breakthroughs happen and we meet a version of us we hadn’t met yet.

What stayed with me the most from this experience was the heart that carried this team to finish. Something powerful unfolded out in the desert. The team lifted each other when it got hard. Strangers became teammates and teammates became family. Stripped of comfort and routine, what remained was resilience, connection and an unspoken commitment to not quit. It was raw humanity. It showed me that doing hard things isn’t just about endurance, but about transformation. Because in the moments we feel like we can’t go on and we choose to take one more step anyway, we meet our greatness.”

Photos and reflection by @seenbyliz_

“It reminds me that growth doesn’t come from comfort. It comes from resistance. It comes from the moments where we feel stretched beyond our limits, where doubt is loud and where continuing forward feels almost impossible. Those are the moments where breakthroughs happen and we meet a version of us we hadn’t met yet.

What stayed with me the most from this experience was the heart that carried this team to finish. Something powerful unfolded out in the desert. The team lifted each other when it got hard. Strangers became teammates and teammates became family. Stripped of comfort and routine, what remained was resilience, connection and an unspoken commitment to not quit. It was raw humanity. It showed me that doing hard things isn’t just about endurance, but about transformation. Because in the moments we feel like we can’t go on and we choose to take one more step anyway, we meet our greatness.”

Photos and reflection by @seenbyliz_

“It reminds me that growth doesn’t come from comfort. It comes from resistance. It comes from the moments where we feel stretched beyond our limits, where doubt is loud and where continuing forward feels almost impossible. Those are the moments where breakthroughs happen and we meet a version of us we hadn’t met yet.

What stayed with me the most from this experience was the heart that carried this team to finish. Something powerful unfolded out in the desert. The team lifted each other when it got hard. Strangers became teammates and teammates became family. Stripped of comfort and routine, what remained was resilience, connection and an unspoken commitment to not quit. It was raw humanity. It showed me that doing hard things isn’t just about endurance, but about transformation. Because in the moments we feel like we can’t go on and we choose to take one more step anyway, we meet our greatness.”

Photos and reflection by @seenbyliz_

“It reminds me that growth doesn’t come from comfort. It comes from resistance. It comes from the moments where we feel stretched beyond our limits, where doubt is loud and where continuing forward feels almost impossible. Those are the moments where breakthroughs happen and we meet a version of us we hadn’t met yet.

What stayed with me the most from this experience was the heart that carried this team to finish. Something powerful unfolded out in the desert. The team lifted each other when it got hard. Strangers became teammates and teammates became family. Stripped of comfort and routine, what remained was resilience, connection and an unspoken commitment to not quit. It was raw humanity. It showed me that doing hard things isn’t just about endurance, but about transformation. Because in the moments we feel like we can’t go on and we choose to take one more step anyway, we meet our greatness.”

Photos and reflection by @seenbyliz_

“As a photographer, I found energy and joy in the discomfort, the unknown, the moments that couldn’t be controlled.

Following my long-time friend Andy, I stepped outside of everything familiar. Living in a van with people I had never met, but quickly found a connection with. Letting comfort go, not only to invite in the unexpected, but also the magic that comes with living in the moment. Within Chaos, I found energy, connection, and a quiet kind of purpose. These moments were not curated. They were not rehearsed. They were real.

No overthinking.
No judgement.
Just being.
A raw, beautiful celebration of what it means to be human. And what we are capable of, together.

The most beautiful moments happened when we ended our personal journey and zoomed out to celebrate each member of the community. Each runner carried something invisible at the start, sometimes hidden behind layers. Somewhere along the journey, those fell away. What remained was raw emotion, stripped down to something honest and human. That transformation, fleeting and unpredictable, became the story. I didn’t want to direct it. I didn’t want to interrupt it. I just wanted to witness it. Because in moments like these, you don’t create the image, you either catch it, or you lose it.

I’ve always worked from a plan, rehearsed and controlled. Neatly, nicely packaged experiences. Rehearsed. Knowing what to expect. With TSP, you can prepare, plan and research all you want. But once it starts, it all fades away. You let it go. You have to move on instinct.”

Photos and reflection by @sandra_blank

“As a photographer, I found energy and joy in the discomfort, the unknown, the moments that couldn’t be controlled.

Following my long-time friend Andy, I stepped outside of everything familiar. Living in a van with people I had never met, but quickly found a connection with. Letting comfort go, not only to invite in the unexpected, but also the magic that comes with living in the moment. Within Chaos, I found energy, connection, and a quiet kind of purpose. These moments were not curated. They were not rehearsed. They were real.

No overthinking.
No judgement.
Just being.
A raw, beautiful celebration of what it means to be human. And what we are capable of, together.

The most beautiful moments happened when we ended our personal journey and zoomed out to celebrate each member of the community. Each runner carried something invisible at the start, sometimes hidden behind layers. Somewhere along the journey, those fell away. What remained was raw emotion, stripped down to something honest and human. That transformation, fleeting and unpredictable, became the story. I didn’t want to direct it. I didn’t want to interrupt it. I just wanted to witness it. Because in moments like these, you don’t create the image, you either catch it, or you lose it.

I’ve always worked from a plan, rehearsed and controlled. Neatly, nicely packaged experiences. Rehearsed. Knowing what to expect. With TSP, you can prepare, plan and research all you want. But once it starts, it all fades away. You let it go. You have to move on instinct.”

Photos and reflection by @sandra_blank

“As a photographer, I found energy and joy in the discomfort, the unknown, the moments that couldn’t be controlled.

Following my long-time friend Andy, I stepped outside of everything familiar. Living in a van with people I had never met, but quickly found a connection with. Letting comfort go, not only to invite in the unexpected, but also the magic that comes with living in the moment. Within Chaos, I found energy, connection, and a quiet kind of purpose. These moments were not curated. They were not rehearsed. They were real.

No overthinking.
No judgement.
Just being.
A raw, beautiful celebration of what it means to be human. And what we are capable of, together.

The most beautiful moments happened when we ended our personal journey and zoomed out to celebrate each member of the community. Each runner carried something invisible at the start, sometimes hidden behind layers. Somewhere along the journey, those fell away. What remained was raw emotion, stripped down to something honest and human. That transformation, fleeting and unpredictable, became the story. I didn’t want to direct it. I didn’t want to interrupt it. I just wanted to witness it. Because in moments like these, you don’t create the image, you either catch it, or you lose it.

I’ve always worked from a plan, rehearsed and controlled. Neatly, nicely packaged experiences. Rehearsed. Knowing what to expect. With TSP, you can prepare, plan and research all you want. But once it starts, it all fades away. You let it go. You have to move on instinct.”

Photos and reflection by @sandra_blank

“As a photographer, I found energy and joy in the discomfort, the unknown, the moments that couldn’t be controlled.

Following my long-time friend Andy, I stepped outside of everything familiar. Living in a van with people I had never met, but quickly found a connection with. Letting comfort go, not only to invite in the unexpected, but also the magic that comes with living in the moment. Within Chaos, I found energy, connection, and a quiet kind of purpose. These moments were not curated. They were not rehearsed. They were real.

No overthinking.
No judgement.
Just being.
A raw, beautiful celebration of what it means to be human. And what we are capable of, together.

The most beautiful moments happened when we ended our personal journey and zoomed out to celebrate each member of the community. Each runner carried something invisible at the start, sometimes hidden behind layers. Somewhere along the journey, those fell away. What remained was raw emotion, stripped down to something honest and human. That transformation, fleeting and unpredictable, became the story. I didn’t want to direct it. I didn’t want to interrupt it. I just wanted to witness it. Because in moments like these, you don’t create the image, you either catch it, or you lose it.

I’ve always worked from a plan, rehearsed and controlled. Neatly, nicely packaged experiences. Rehearsed. Knowing what to expect. With TSP, you can prepare, plan and research all you want. But once it starts, it all fades away. You let it go. You have to move on instinct.”

Photos and reflection by @sandra_blank

“As a photographer, I found energy and joy in the discomfort, the unknown, the moments that couldn’t be controlled.

Following my long-time friend Andy, I stepped outside of everything familiar. Living in a van with people I had never met, but quickly found a connection with. Letting comfort go, not only to invite in the unexpected, but also the magic that comes with living in the moment. Within Chaos, I found energy, connection, and a quiet kind of purpose. These moments were not curated. They were not rehearsed. They were real.

No overthinking.
No judgement.
Just being.
A raw, beautiful celebration of what it means to be human. And what we are capable of, together.

The most beautiful moments happened when we ended our personal journey and zoomed out to celebrate each member of the community. Each runner carried something invisible at the start, sometimes hidden behind layers. Somewhere along the journey, those fell away. What remained was raw emotion, stripped down to something honest and human. That transformation, fleeting and unpredictable, became the story. I didn’t want to direct it. I didn’t want to interrupt it. I just wanted to witness it. Because in moments like these, you don’t create the image, you either catch it, or you lose it.

I’ve always worked from a plan, rehearsed and controlled. Neatly, nicely packaged experiences. Rehearsed. Knowing what to expect. With TSP, you can prepare, plan and research all you want. But once it starts, it all fades away. You let it go. You have to move on instinct.”

Photos and reflection by @sandra_blank

“As a photographer, I found energy and joy in the discomfort, the unknown, the moments that couldn’t be controlled.

Following my long-time friend Andy, I stepped outside of everything familiar. Living in a van with people I had never met, but quickly found a connection with. Letting comfort go, not only to invite in the unexpected, but also the magic that comes with living in the moment. Within Chaos, I found energy, connection, and a quiet kind of purpose. These moments were not curated. They were not rehearsed. They were real.

No overthinking.
No judgement.
Just being.
A raw, beautiful celebration of what it means to be human. And what we are capable of, together.

The most beautiful moments happened when we ended our personal journey and zoomed out to celebrate each member of the community. Each runner carried something invisible at the start, sometimes hidden behind layers. Somewhere along the journey, those fell away. What remained was raw emotion, stripped down to something honest and human. That transformation, fleeting and unpredictable, became the story. I didn’t want to direct it. I didn’t want to interrupt it. I just wanted to witness it. Because in moments like these, you don’t create the image, you either catch it, or you lose it.

I’ve always worked from a plan, rehearsed and controlled. Neatly, nicely packaged experiences. Rehearsed. Knowing what to expect. With TSP, you can prepare, plan and research all you want. But once it starts, it all fades away. You let it go. You have to move on instinct.”

Photos and reflection by @sandra_blank

“As a photographer, I found energy and joy in the discomfort, the unknown, the moments that couldn’t be controlled.

Following my long-time friend Andy, I stepped outside of everything familiar. Living in a van with people I had never met, but quickly found a connection with. Letting comfort go, not only to invite in the unexpected, but also the magic that comes with living in the moment. Within Chaos, I found energy, connection, and a quiet kind of purpose. These moments were not curated. They were not rehearsed. They were real.

No overthinking.
No judgement.
Just being.
A raw, beautiful celebration of what it means to be human. And what we are capable of, together.

The most beautiful moments happened when we ended our personal journey and zoomed out to celebrate each member of the community. Each runner carried something invisible at the start, sometimes hidden behind layers. Somewhere along the journey, those fell away. What remained was raw emotion, stripped down to something honest and human. That transformation, fleeting and unpredictable, became the story. I didn’t want to direct it. I didn’t want to interrupt it. I just wanted to witness it. Because in moments like these, you don’t create the image, you either catch it, or you lose it.

I’ve always worked from a plan, rehearsed and controlled. Neatly, nicely packaged experiences. Rehearsed. Knowing what to expect. With TSP, you can prepare, plan and research all you want. But once it starts, it all fades away. You let it go. You have to move on instinct.”

Photos and reflection by @sandra_blank

“As a photographer, I found energy and joy in the discomfort, the unknown, the moments that couldn’t be controlled.

Following my long-time friend Andy, I stepped outside of everything familiar. Living in a van with people I had never met, but quickly found a connection with. Letting comfort go, not only to invite in the unexpected, but also the magic that comes with living in the moment. Within Chaos, I found energy, connection, and a quiet kind of purpose. These moments were not curated. They were not rehearsed. They were real.

No overthinking.
No judgement.
Just being.
A raw, beautiful celebration of what it means to be human. And what we are capable of, together.

The most beautiful moments happened when we ended our personal journey and zoomed out to celebrate each member of the community. Each runner carried something invisible at the start, sometimes hidden behind layers. Somewhere along the journey, those fell away. What remained was raw emotion, stripped down to something honest and human. That transformation, fleeting and unpredictable, became the story. I didn’t want to direct it. I didn’t want to interrupt it. I just wanted to witness it. Because in moments like these, you don’t create the image, you either catch it, or you lose it.

I’ve always worked from a plan, rehearsed and controlled. Neatly, nicely packaged experiences. Rehearsed. Knowing what to expect. With TSP, you can prepare, plan and research all you want. But once it starts, it all fades away. You let it go. You have to move on instinct.”

Photos and reflection by @sandra_blank

“As a photographer, I found energy and joy in the discomfort, the unknown, the moments that couldn’t be controlled.

Following my long-time friend Andy, I stepped outside of everything familiar. Living in a van with people I had never met, but quickly found a connection with. Letting comfort go, not only to invite in the unexpected, but also the magic that comes with living in the moment. Within Chaos, I found energy, connection, and a quiet kind of purpose. These moments were not curated. They were not rehearsed. They were real.

No overthinking.
No judgement.
Just being.
A raw, beautiful celebration of what it means to be human. And what we are capable of, together.

The most beautiful moments happened when we ended our personal journey and zoomed out to celebrate each member of the community. Each runner carried something invisible at the start, sometimes hidden behind layers. Somewhere along the journey, those fell away. What remained was raw emotion, stripped down to something honest and human. That transformation, fleeting and unpredictable, became the story. I didn’t want to direct it. I didn’t want to interrupt it. I just wanted to witness it. Because in moments like these, you don’t create the image, you either catch it, or you lose it.

I’ve always worked from a plan, rehearsed and controlled. Neatly, nicely packaged experiences. Rehearsed. Knowing what to expect. With TSP, you can prepare, plan and research all you want. But once it starts, it all fades away. You let it go. You have to move on instinct.”

Photos and reflection by @sandra_blank

In recent years, leading relay teams at LALV divert from the provided route, going off-road and outpacing race coverage until their arrival at the finish.

This year, a reporting team embedded at the front of the pack to follow the chase for a new record. As the miles flew by, a pace breaking group of teams emerged, attacking LALV unlike anything we’d ever seen.

Featuring:
@portlandbureauofrunners
@prjct.stella
@wear_dust
@paramountrunning
@bromka
@cool_ant

Shot and edited by @c.n_may

There is value in darkness, in doing things that matter without expecting any reward or public recognition. Most of our life’s our egos dictate what we do, our endless pursuit of social approval, but when we shift to being authentic and doing things for ourselves that’s when great things happen. TSP is exactly that and the community around the race is one of the things I’m taking from the experience. We are all there for the moment to be with each other and for the love of the sport, the public recognition and the ego has no place in the race.

Photos and reflection by @thealdochacon

There is value in darkness, in doing things that matter without expecting any reward or public recognition. Most of our life’s our egos dictate what we do, our endless pursuit of social approval, but when we shift to being authentic and doing things for ourselves that’s when great things happen. TSP is exactly that and the community around the race is one of the things I’m taking from the experience. We are all there for the moment to be with each other and for the love of the sport, the public recognition and the ego has no place in the race.

Photos and reflection by @thealdochacon

There is value in darkness, in doing things that matter without expecting any reward or public recognition. Most of our life’s our egos dictate what we do, our endless pursuit of social approval, but when we shift to being authentic and doing things for ourselves that’s when great things happen. TSP is exactly that and the community around the race is one of the things I’m taking from the experience. We are all there for the moment to be with each other and for the love of the sport, the public recognition and the ego has no place in the race.

Photos and reflection by @thealdochacon

There is value in darkness, in doing things that matter without expecting any reward or public recognition. Most of our life’s our egos dictate what we do, our endless pursuit of social approval, but when we shift to being authentic and doing things for ourselves that’s when great things happen. TSP is exactly that and the community around the race is one of the things I’m taking from the experience. We are all there for the moment to be with each other and for the love of the sport, the public recognition and the ego has no place in the race.

Photos and reflection by @thealdochacon

There is value in darkness, in doing things that matter without expecting any reward or public recognition. Most of our life’s our egos dictate what we do, our endless pursuit of social approval, but when we shift to being authentic and doing things for ourselves that’s when great things happen. TSP is exactly that and the community around the race is one of the things I’m taking from the experience. We are all there for the moment to be with each other and for the love of the sport, the public recognition and the ego has no place in the race.

Photos and reflection by @thealdochacon

There is value in darkness, in doing things that matter without expecting any reward or public recognition. Most of our life’s our egos dictate what we do, our endless pursuit of social approval, but when we shift to being authentic and doing things for ourselves that’s when great things happen. TSP is exactly that and the community around the race is one of the things I’m taking from the experience. We are all there for the moment to be with each other and for the love of the sport, the public recognition and the ego has no place in the race.

Photos and reflection by @thealdochacon

There is value in darkness, in doing things that matter without expecting any reward or public recognition. Most of our life’s our egos dictate what we do, our endless pursuit of social approval, but when we shift to being authentic and doing things for ourselves that’s when great things happen. TSP is exactly that and the community around the race is one of the things I’m taking from the experience. We are all there for the moment to be with each other and for the love of the sport, the public recognition and the ego has no place in the race.

Photos and reflection by @thealdochacon

There is value in darkness, in doing things that matter without expecting any reward or public recognition. Most of our life’s our egos dictate what we do, our endless pursuit of social approval, but when we shift to being authentic and doing things for ourselves that’s when great things happen. TSP is exactly that and the community around the race is one of the things I’m taking from the experience. We are all there for the moment to be with each other and for the love of the sport, the public recognition and the ego has no place in the race.

Photos and reflection by @thealdochacon

There is value in darkness, in doing things that matter without expecting any reward or public recognition. Most of our life’s our egos dictate what we do, our endless pursuit of social approval, but when we shift to being authentic and doing things for ourselves that’s when great things happen. TSP is exactly that and the community around the race is one of the things I’m taking from the experience. We are all there for the moment to be with each other and for the love of the sport, the public recognition and the ego has no place in the race.

Photos and reflection by @thealdochacon

“I went thematic - a common thread of rhythm, the stillness of time, silhouettes, fiery hues (or literal fire), and danger. Although the vibes and energy were almost always high during the relay, but there was a steady undertone that felt dark, eery, unspoken. As women, this is what it can feel like to be out there alone, exposed, vulnerable, while doing the thing you love the most. I wanted to share that undertone juxtaposed with the strength of a female collective. It is in those darkest moments where we found an inner collective strength and that’s what I will be left remembering. And although this is about gentle lives telling no stories, may these memories be a whisper for those women who come before and for those that come after.

I did not know.


How was I to know.

The shifts. The sleeplessness.

An abrupt start. A rush to wait.

Repeat.

Footfalls ever forward.

Heartbeats in steady rhythm.

One two three. One two three.

Repeat.

A new routine. A quiet acceptance.

Breathing scattered, then steadied.

Days folding into nights.

In line. On time.

Repeat.

Fire in the skies. Fire in their eyes.

Sun-burned silhouettes. Sweat-filled seats.

Sirens. Deep breaths. Power line hums.

Repeat.

Exhaustion. Resolve.

The stillness of time. No finish line.

A distant memory. A present future.

Today. Tomorrow.

Repeat.”

Photos and reflection by @bethwhiteheadphoto

“I went thematic - a common thread of rhythm, the stillness of time, silhouettes, fiery hues (or literal fire), and danger. Although the vibes and energy were almost always high during the relay, but there was a steady undertone that felt dark, eery, unspoken. As women, this is what it can feel like to be out there alone, exposed, vulnerable, while doing the thing you love the most. I wanted to share that undertone juxtaposed with the strength of a female collective. It is in those darkest moments where we found an inner collective strength and that’s what I will be left remembering. And although this is about gentle lives telling no stories, may these memories be a whisper for those women who come before and for those that come after.

I did not know.


How was I to know.

The shifts. The sleeplessness.

An abrupt start. A rush to wait.

Repeat.

Footfalls ever forward.

Heartbeats in steady rhythm.

One two three. One two three.

Repeat.

A new routine. A quiet acceptance.

Breathing scattered, then steadied.

Days folding into nights.

In line. On time.

Repeat.

Fire in the skies. Fire in their eyes.

Sun-burned silhouettes. Sweat-filled seats.

Sirens. Deep breaths. Power line hums.

Repeat.

Exhaustion. Resolve.

The stillness of time. No finish line.

A distant memory. A present future.

Today. Tomorrow.

Repeat.”

Photos and reflection by @bethwhiteheadphoto

“I went thematic - a common thread of rhythm, the stillness of time, silhouettes, fiery hues (or literal fire), and danger. Although the vibes and energy were almost always high during the relay, but there was a steady undertone that felt dark, eery, unspoken. As women, this is what it can feel like to be out there alone, exposed, vulnerable, while doing the thing you love the most. I wanted to share that undertone juxtaposed with the strength of a female collective. It is in those darkest moments where we found an inner collective strength and that’s what I will be left remembering. And although this is about gentle lives telling no stories, may these memories be a whisper for those women who come before and for those that come after.

I did not know.


How was I to know.

The shifts. The sleeplessness.

An abrupt start. A rush to wait.

Repeat.

Footfalls ever forward.

Heartbeats in steady rhythm.

One two three. One two three.

Repeat.

A new routine. A quiet acceptance.

Breathing scattered, then steadied.

Days folding into nights.

In line. On time.

Repeat.

Fire in the skies. Fire in their eyes.

Sun-burned silhouettes. Sweat-filled seats.

Sirens. Deep breaths. Power line hums.

Repeat.

Exhaustion. Resolve.

The stillness of time. No finish line.

A distant memory. A present future.

Today. Tomorrow.

Repeat.”

Photos and reflection by @bethwhiteheadphoto

“I went thematic - a common thread of rhythm, the stillness of time, silhouettes, fiery hues (or literal fire), and danger. Although the vibes and energy were almost always high during the relay, but there was a steady undertone that felt dark, eery, unspoken. As women, this is what it can feel like to be out there alone, exposed, vulnerable, while doing the thing you love the most. I wanted to share that undertone juxtaposed with the strength of a female collective. It is in those darkest moments where we found an inner collective strength and that’s what I will be left remembering. And although this is about gentle lives telling no stories, may these memories be a whisper for those women who come before and for those that come after.

I did not know.


How was I to know.

The shifts. The sleeplessness.

An abrupt start. A rush to wait.

Repeat.

Footfalls ever forward.

Heartbeats in steady rhythm.

One two three. One two three.

Repeat.

A new routine. A quiet acceptance.

Breathing scattered, then steadied.

Days folding into nights.

In line. On time.

Repeat.

Fire in the skies. Fire in their eyes.

Sun-burned silhouettes. Sweat-filled seats.

Sirens. Deep breaths. Power line hums.

Repeat.

Exhaustion. Resolve.

The stillness of time. No finish line.

A distant memory. A present future.

Today. Tomorrow.

Repeat.”

Photos and reflection by @bethwhiteheadphoto

“I went thematic - a common thread of rhythm, the stillness of time, silhouettes, fiery hues (or literal fire), and danger. Although the vibes and energy were almost always high during the relay, but there was a steady undertone that felt dark, eery, unspoken. As women, this is what it can feel like to be out there alone, exposed, vulnerable, while doing the thing you love the most. I wanted to share that undertone juxtaposed with the strength of a female collective. It is in those darkest moments where we found an inner collective strength and that’s what I will be left remembering. And although this is about gentle lives telling no stories, may these memories be a whisper for those women who come before and for those that come after.

I did not know.


How was I to know.

The shifts. The sleeplessness.

An abrupt start. A rush to wait.

Repeat.

Footfalls ever forward.

Heartbeats in steady rhythm.

One two three. One two three.

Repeat.

A new routine. A quiet acceptance.

Breathing scattered, then steadied.

Days folding into nights.

In line. On time.

Repeat.

Fire in the skies. Fire in their eyes.

Sun-burned silhouettes. Sweat-filled seats.

Sirens. Deep breaths. Power line hums.

Repeat.

Exhaustion. Resolve.

The stillness of time. No finish line.

A distant memory. A present future.

Today. Tomorrow.

Repeat.”

Photos and reflection by @bethwhiteheadphoto

“I went thematic - a common thread of rhythm, the stillness of time, silhouettes, fiery hues (or literal fire), and danger. Although the vibes and energy were almost always high during the relay, but there was a steady undertone that felt dark, eery, unspoken. As women, this is what it can feel like to be out there alone, exposed, vulnerable, while doing the thing you love the most. I wanted to share that undertone juxtaposed with the strength of a female collective. It is in those darkest moments where we found an inner collective strength and that’s what I will be left remembering. And although this is about gentle lives telling no stories, may these memories be a whisper for those women who come before and for those that come after.

I did not know.


How was I to know.

The shifts. The sleeplessness.

An abrupt start. A rush to wait.

Repeat.

Footfalls ever forward.

Heartbeats in steady rhythm.

One two three. One two three.

Repeat.

A new routine. A quiet acceptance.

Breathing scattered, then steadied.

Days folding into nights.

In line. On time.

Repeat.

Fire in the skies. Fire in their eyes.

Sun-burned silhouettes. Sweat-filled seats.

Sirens. Deep breaths. Power line hums.

Repeat.

Exhaustion. Resolve.

The stillness of time. No finish line.

A distant memory. A present future.

Today. Tomorrow.

Repeat.”

Photos and reflection by @bethwhiteheadphoto

“I went thematic - a common thread of rhythm, the stillness of time, silhouettes, fiery hues (or literal fire), and danger. Although the vibes and energy were almost always high during the relay, but there was a steady undertone that felt dark, eery, unspoken. As women, this is what it can feel like to be out there alone, exposed, vulnerable, while doing the thing you love the most. I wanted to share that undertone juxtaposed with the strength of a female collective. It is in those darkest moments where we found an inner collective strength and that’s what I will be left remembering. And although this is about gentle lives telling no stories, may these memories be a whisper for those women who come before and for those that come after.

I did not know.


How was I to know.

The shifts. The sleeplessness.

An abrupt start. A rush to wait.

Repeat.

Footfalls ever forward.

Heartbeats in steady rhythm.

One two three. One two three.

Repeat.

A new routine. A quiet acceptance.

Breathing scattered, then steadied.

Days folding into nights.

In line. On time.

Repeat.

Fire in the skies. Fire in their eyes.

Sun-burned silhouettes. Sweat-filled seats.

Sirens. Deep breaths. Power line hums.

Repeat.

Exhaustion. Resolve.

The stillness of time. No finish line.

A distant memory. A present future.

Today. Tomorrow.

Repeat.”

Photos and reflection by @bethwhiteheadphoto

“I went thematic - a common thread of rhythm, the stillness of time, silhouettes, fiery hues (or literal fire), and danger. Although the vibes and energy were almost always high during the relay, but there was a steady undertone that felt dark, eery, unspoken. As women, this is what it can feel like to be out there alone, exposed, vulnerable, while doing the thing you love the most. I wanted to share that undertone juxtaposed with the strength of a female collective. It is in those darkest moments where we found an inner collective strength and that’s what I will be left remembering. And although this is about gentle lives telling no stories, may these memories be a whisper for those women who come before and for those that come after.

I did not know.


How was I to know.

The shifts. The sleeplessness.

An abrupt start. A rush to wait.

Repeat.

Footfalls ever forward.

Heartbeats in steady rhythm.

One two three. One two three.

Repeat.

A new routine. A quiet acceptance.

Breathing scattered, then steadied.

Days folding into nights.

In line. On time.

Repeat.

Fire in the skies. Fire in their eyes.

Sun-burned silhouettes. Sweat-filled seats.

Sirens. Deep breaths. Power line hums.

Repeat.

Exhaustion. Resolve.

The stillness of time. No finish line.

A distant memory. A present future.

Today. Tomorrow.

Repeat.”

Photos and reflection by @bethwhiteheadphoto

“I went thematic - a common thread of rhythm, the stillness of time, silhouettes, fiery hues (or literal fire), and danger. Although the vibes and energy were almost always high during the relay, but there was a steady undertone that felt dark, eery, unspoken. As women, this is what it can feel like to be out there alone, exposed, vulnerable, while doing the thing you love the most. I wanted to share that undertone juxtaposed with the strength of a female collective. It is in those darkest moments where we found an inner collective strength and that’s what I will be left remembering. And although this is about gentle lives telling no stories, may these memories be a whisper for those women who come before and for those that come after.

I did not know.


How was I to know.

The shifts. The sleeplessness.

An abrupt start. A rush to wait.

Repeat.

Footfalls ever forward.

Heartbeats in steady rhythm.

One two three. One two three.

Repeat.

A new routine. A quiet acceptance.

Breathing scattered, then steadied.

Days folding into nights.

In line. On time.

Repeat.

Fire in the skies. Fire in their eyes.

Sun-burned silhouettes. Sweat-filled seats.

Sirens. Deep breaths. Power line hums.

Repeat.

Exhaustion. Resolve.

The stillness of time. No finish line.

A distant memory. A present future.

Today. Tomorrow.

Repeat.”

Photos and reflection by @bethwhiteheadphoto

“I went thematic - a common thread of rhythm, the stillness of time, silhouettes, fiery hues (or literal fire), and danger. Although the vibes and energy were almost always high during the relay, but there was a steady undertone that felt dark, eery, unspoken. As women, this is what it can feel like to be out there alone, exposed, vulnerable, while doing the thing you love the most. I wanted to share that undertone juxtaposed with the strength of a female collective. It is in those darkest moments where we found an inner collective strength and that’s what I will be left remembering. And although this is about gentle lives telling no stories, may these memories be a whisper for those women who come before and for those that come after.

I did not know.


How was I to know.

The shifts. The sleeplessness.

An abrupt start. A rush to wait.

Repeat.

Footfalls ever forward.

Heartbeats in steady rhythm.

One two three. One two three.

Repeat.

A new routine. A quiet acceptance.

Breathing scattered, then steadied.

Days folding into nights.

In line. On time.

Repeat.

Fire in the skies. Fire in their eyes.

Sun-burned silhouettes. Sweat-filled seats.

Sirens. Deep breaths. Power line hums.

Repeat.

Exhaustion. Resolve.

The stillness of time. No finish line.

A distant memory. A present future.

Today. Tomorrow.

Repeat.”

Photos and reflection by @bethwhiteheadphoto

“I went thematic - a common thread of rhythm, the stillness of time, silhouettes, fiery hues (or literal fire), and danger. Although the vibes and energy were almost always high during the relay, but there was a steady undertone that felt dark, eery, unspoken. As women, this is what it can feel like to be out there alone, exposed, vulnerable, while doing the thing you love the most. I wanted to share that undertone juxtaposed with the strength of a female collective. It is in those darkest moments where we found an inner collective strength and that’s what I will be left remembering. And although this is about gentle lives telling no stories, may these memories be a whisper for those women who come before and for those that come after.

I did not know.


How was I to know.

The shifts. The sleeplessness.

An abrupt start. A rush to wait.

Repeat.

Footfalls ever forward.

Heartbeats in steady rhythm.

One two three. One two three.

Repeat.

A new routine. A quiet acceptance.

Breathing scattered, then steadied.

Days folding into nights.

In line. On time.

Repeat.

Fire in the skies. Fire in their eyes.

Sun-burned silhouettes. Sweat-filled seats.

Sirens. Deep breaths. Power line hums.

Repeat.

Exhaustion. Resolve.

The stillness of time. No finish line.

A distant memory. A present future.

Today. Tomorrow.

Repeat.”

Photos and reflection by @bethwhiteheadphoto

“I went thematic - a common thread of rhythm, the stillness of time, silhouettes, fiery hues (or literal fire), and danger. Although the vibes and energy were almost always high during the relay, but there was a steady undertone that felt dark, eery, unspoken. As women, this is what it can feel like to be out there alone, exposed, vulnerable, while doing the thing you love the most. I wanted to share that undertone juxtaposed with the strength of a female collective. It is in those darkest moments where we found an inner collective strength and that’s what I will be left remembering. And although this is about gentle lives telling no stories, may these memories be a whisper for those women who come before and for those that come after.

I did not know.


How was I to know.

The shifts. The sleeplessness.

An abrupt start. A rush to wait.

Repeat.

Footfalls ever forward.

Heartbeats in steady rhythm.

One two three. One two three.

Repeat.

A new routine. A quiet acceptance.

Breathing scattered, then steadied.

Days folding into nights.

In line. On time.

Repeat.

Fire in the skies. Fire in their eyes.

Sun-burned silhouettes. Sweat-filled seats.

Sirens. Deep breaths. Power line hums.

Repeat.

Exhaustion. Resolve.

The stillness of time. No finish line.

A distant memory. A present future.

Today. Tomorrow.

Repeat.”

Photos and reflection by @bethwhiteheadphoto

“I went thematic - a common thread of rhythm, the stillness of time, silhouettes, fiery hues (or literal fire), and danger. Although the vibes and energy were almost always high during the relay, but there was a steady undertone that felt dark, eery, unspoken. As women, this is what it can feel like to be out there alone, exposed, vulnerable, while doing the thing you love the most. I wanted to share that undertone juxtaposed with the strength of a female collective. It is in those darkest moments where we found an inner collective strength and that’s what I will be left remembering. And although this is about gentle lives telling no stories, may these memories be a whisper for those women who come before and for those that come after.

I did not know.


How was I to know.

The shifts. The sleeplessness.

An abrupt start. A rush to wait.

Repeat.

Footfalls ever forward.

Heartbeats in steady rhythm.

One two three. One two three.

Repeat.

A new routine. A quiet acceptance.

Breathing scattered, then steadied.

Days folding into nights.

In line. On time.

Repeat.

Fire in the skies. Fire in their eyes.

Sun-burned silhouettes. Sweat-filled seats.

Sirens. Deep breaths. Power line hums.

Repeat.

Exhaustion. Resolve.

The stillness of time. No finish line.

A distant memory. A present future.

Today. Tomorrow.

Repeat.”

Photos and reflection by @bethwhiteheadphoto

“I went thematic - a common thread of rhythm, the stillness of time, silhouettes, fiery hues (or literal fire), and danger. Although the vibes and energy were almost always high during the relay, but there was a steady undertone that felt dark, eery, unspoken. As women, this is what it can feel like to be out there alone, exposed, vulnerable, while doing the thing you love the most. I wanted to share that undertone juxtaposed with the strength of a female collective. It is in those darkest moments where we found an inner collective strength and that’s what I will be left remembering. And although this is about gentle lives telling no stories, may these memories be a whisper for those women who come before and for those that come after.

I did not know.


How was I to know.

The shifts. The sleeplessness.

An abrupt start. A rush to wait.

Repeat.

Footfalls ever forward.

Heartbeats in steady rhythm.

One two three. One two three.

Repeat.

A new routine. A quiet acceptance.

Breathing scattered, then steadied.

Days folding into nights.

In line. On time.

Repeat.

Fire in the skies. Fire in their eyes.

Sun-burned silhouettes. Sweat-filled seats.

Sirens. Deep breaths. Power line hums.

Repeat.

Exhaustion. Resolve.

The stillness of time. No finish line.

A distant memory. A present future.

Today. Tomorrow.

Repeat.”

Photos and reflection by @bethwhiteheadphoto

“I went thematic - a common thread of rhythm, the stillness of time, silhouettes, fiery hues (or literal fire), and danger. Although the vibes and energy were almost always high during the relay, but there was a steady undertone that felt dark, eery, unspoken. As women, this is what it can feel like to be out there alone, exposed, vulnerable, while doing the thing you love the most. I wanted to share that undertone juxtaposed with the strength of a female collective. It is in those darkest moments where we found an inner collective strength and that’s what I will be left remembering. And although this is about gentle lives telling no stories, may these memories be a whisper for those women who come before and for those that come after.

I did not know.


How was I to know.

The shifts. The sleeplessness.

An abrupt start. A rush to wait.

Repeat.

Footfalls ever forward.

Heartbeats in steady rhythm.

One two three. One two three.

Repeat.

A new routine. A quiet acceptance.

Breathing scattered, then steadied.

Days folding into nights.

In line. On time.

Repeat.

Fire in the skies. Fire in their eyes.

Sun-burned silhouettes. Sweat-filled seats.

Sirens. Deep breaths. Power line hums.

Repeat.

Exhaustion. Resolve.

The stillness of time. No finish line.

A distant memory. A present future.

Today. Tomorrow.

Repeat.”

Photos and reflection by @bethwhiteheadphoto

“Nothing real comes from staying comfortable. If you keep things easy, nothing changes. No friction, no story.

I came into TSP excited, but also scared. Running at night was something I didn’t want to face. When it finally hit, there was no way out. Just darkness, silence, and the road.

At some point, you stop overthinking and just move. Doesn’t matter if you’re tired, if you’re scared, if your head is a mess. You just keep going because no one’s going to do it for you.

That became my favorite part. Running alone in the dark, under a sky full of stars, feeling small and exposed, but also completely present. No distractions. No bullshit. Just you and whatever you’re made of.

The things that actually matter, the ones that stay with you, don’t come easy. You have to push for them. You have to go through it.”

Photos and reflection by @yorch_bm

“Nothing real comes from staying comfortable. If you keep things easy, nothing changes. No friction, no story.

I came into TSP excited, but also scared. Running at night was something I didn’t want to face. When it finally hit, there was no way out. Just darkness, silence, and the road.

At some point, you stop overthinking and just move. Doesn’t matter if you’re tired, if you’re scared, if your head is a mess. You just keep going because no one’s going to do it for you.

That became my favorite part. Running alone in the dark, under a sky full of stars, feeling small and exposed, but also completely present. No distractions. No bullshit. Just you and whatever you’re made of.

The things that actually matter, the ones that stay with you, don’t come easy. You have to push for them. You have to go through it.”

Photos and reflection by @yorch_bm

“Nothing real comes from staying comfortable. If you keep things easy, nothing changes. No friction, no story.

I came into TSP excited, but also scared. Running at night was something I didn’t want to face. When it finally hit, there was no way out. Just darkness, silence, and the road.

At some point, you stop overthinking and just move. Doesn’t matter if you’re tired, if you’re scared, if your head is a mess. You just keep going because no one’s going to do it for you.

That became my favorite part. Running alone in the dark, under a sky full of stars, feeling small and exposed, but also completely present. No distractions. No bullshit. Just you and whatever you’re made of.

The things that actually matter, the ones that stay with you, don’t come easy. You have to push for them. You have to go through it.”

Photos and reflection by @yorch_bm

“Nothing real comes from staying comfortable. If you keep things easy, nothing changes. No friction, no story.

I came into TSP excited, but also scared. Running at night was something I didn’t want to face. When it finally hit, there was no way out. Just darkness, silence, and the road.

At some point, you stop overthinking and just move. Doesn’t matter if you’re tired, if you’re scared, if your head is a mess. You just keep going because no one’s going to do it for you.

That became my favorite part. Running alone in the dark, under a sky full of stars, feeling small and exposed, but also completely present. No distractions. No bullshit. Just you and whatever you’re made of.

The things that actually matter, the ones that stay with you, don’t come easy. You have to push for them. You have to go through it.”

Photos and reflection by @yorch_bm

“Nothing real comes from staying comfortable. If you keep things easy, nothing changes. No friction, no story.

I came into TSP excited, but also scared. Running at night was something I didn’t want to face. When it finally hit, there was no way out. Just darkness, silence, and the road.

At some point, you stop overthinking and just move. Doesn’t matter if you’re tired, if you’re scared, if your head is a mess. You just keep going because no one’s going to do it for you.

That became my favorite part. Running alone in the dark, under a sky full of stars, feeling small and exposed, but also completely present. No distractions. No bullshit. Just you and whatever you’re made of.

The things that actually matter, the ones that stay with you, don’t come easy. You have to push for them. You have to go through it.”

Photos and reflection by @yorch_bm

“Nothing real comes from staying comfortable. If you keep things easy, nothing changes. No friction, no story.

I came into TSP excited, but also scared. Running at night was something I didn’t want to face. When it finally hit, there was no way out. Just darkness, silence, and the road.

At some point, you stop overthinking and just move. Doesn’t matter if you’re tired, if you’re scared, if your head is a mess. You just keep going because no one’s going to do it for you.

That became my favorite part. Running alone in the dark, under a sky full of stars, feeling small and exposed, but also completely present. No distractions. No bullshit. Just you and whatever you’re made of.

The things that actually matter, the ones that stay with you, don’t come easy. You have to push for them. You have to go through it.”

Photos and reflection by @yorch_bm

“Nothing real comes from staying comfortable. If you keep things easy, nothing changes. No friction, no story.

I came into TSP excited, but also scared. Running at night was something I didn’t want to face. When it finally hit, there was no way out. Just darkness, silence, and the road.

At some point, you stop overthinking and just move. Doesn’t matter if you’re tired, if you’re scared, if your head is a mess. You just keep going because no one’s going to do it for you.

That became my favorite part. Running alone in the dark, under a sky full of stars, feeling small and exposed, but also completely present. No distractions. No bullshit. Just you and whatever you’re made of.

The things that actually matter, the ones that stay with you, don’t come easy. You have to push for them. You have to go through it.”

Photos and reflection by @yorch_bm