Runner Chronicles: Gordon Clark
The Runner Chronicles
For our next Runner Chronicles, we’re thrilled to introduce Gordon Clark, an LA-based runner with a refreshingly dynamic take on the sport. Known for his love of non-traditional races, Gordon views running as far more than a competitive pursuit—it’s a journey of exploration, connection, and self-discovery.
Running has become a way of life for Gordon, and we couldn’t be more excited to share his unique perspective.
He approaches the road (and trail) with a mindset that values personal growth over numbers, emphasizing the importance of listening to your body and embracing the highs and lows of the journey. Open about the challenges he’s faced, Gordon’s stories resonate with runners at every level.
After having contact with Gordon, we believe he offers insights that could make anyone a better runner—not by improving their stats but by deepening their connection to the sport. As always, we asked our questions, and Gordon delivered like no other. The result? A Runner Chronicles edition packed with lessons, inspiration, and a fresh lens on what running can mean.
First, would you like to introduce yourself?
I’m an LA transplant of about 13 years now. I moved out for industry work, and like so many had to take up the hustle in hospitality and service. Sport has always been a part of my DNA, though. Basketball as a kid, boxing a little later. I really took to running after a boxing (and shoulder) setback; a local run club called Blacklist - sort of the LA run culture’s founding father - before getting swept up in the Nike NRC rush that was just starting up.
Since: most of my focus is non-traditional racing, unsanctioned happenings, mindfulness excursions. So it’s the coins’ two sides for me. Hard–charging, no rules, urban racing (Take the Bridge, Speed Project), to then the ego-whipper, full cultural immersion with the lovely humans of Aire Libre.
Something I’ve had to come to grips with: I have a sad duality about me. There are times I want to be fast, I want to gun for a podium. And then there are moments of clarity where I have to reign myself in, check the self-adulation. I want running to be a spiritual act, a communion with my urban or rural environment (hell, whatever environment), a vision quest on a trail, etc. I’ve termed myself a seeker, and at the moment running presents a path to more answers than not. If that bit of vaguery makes any sense, haha.
What drives you to run, and what does running mean to you?
Running has become a lifestyle, it’s the underpinning shape to my day. It was very social in the beginning; learning so much about the various disciplines (and distances) within the sport. Meeting others with backgrounds completely opposite mine; but through the simple act of forward locomotion creating a bond, a bedrock for dialog, a relationship. And that was super important, especially in a place like Los Angeles with comings and goings of so many people.
But I’d reckon Sport, in the broad sense, has always been that thing for me. A daily practice. The throughline to my day. Basketball. Boxing. It was structure. There was a need to set an idea of a goal (I say “idea” because we all know how those goals can shapeshift, pivot) and then take miniature daily steps to improve, to pursue a sort of mastery (of course a foolish aim as mastery is more an idea than end goal).
But it’s an organic, non-fixed thing for me. And I think running as a whole needs to always embrace that notion and not be so inert. Marathon could be your entry point, but marathon can gobble you up, you can get lost in numbers, finding validation in those numbers. But moving and running is a meditation to itself, at least it can be. It’s a time to put your phone aside and get lost in the melee of your mind’s computations. Maybe it’s also a time to really focus on a podcast, enrich your mind, or listen to a song in a way you can’t or couldn’t at home or in your car. It can be exploring a new city. It can be meeting a new neighborhood through the eyes of a run club. It can be the hang after the run. Running, for my money, is a super broad umbrella. And that’s wildly exciting to me. It’s not some simple, set thing.
For my right now, like, today: I’m up at 9,000 feet in New Mexico. I’m exploring some of the oldest trail systems in the US; old Camanche trails, loggers’ paths. It’s a small mountain town here with heaps of history. And quite a remove from Los Angeles main. So today: I’m blissing out, enjoying crisp mountain air in a way I can’t enjoy at home. I’m watching my footfalls. Everything is rocky, ankle-busting trail here, nothing is flat. I spend a ton of time on trail (last few years, at least), but this is different from our “Cali carpet”, as it’s been dubbed. This is super technical stuff. Single track that if your mind wanders could spell a gnarly ending. So yeah, that’s today. Next week could be something different.
"Marathon can gobble you up; you can get lost in numbers, finding validation in those numbers. But moving and running is a meditation to itself."
You’re known as an ultra-runner and trail runner. What keeps you going during the toughest moments out there?
Yeah, somehow or another been tagged that guy- not even sure how it started to be 100. The beard, busted exterior, probably lends more to the designation than my Strava or Ultrasignup score would suggest. But man, to your Q, yeah that’s always the challenge, isn’t it? Knowing how cracked open I’ll be during a hard effort. Appreciating the privilege I have in loading up for said effort; taking stock of how my heart picks up a few beats at the idea, how I’m forging my own adventure (no one’s making me do it, right?).
But to be honest, the tough moments are just that: tough. I don’t have some granite constitution, that thing I sometimes see out there, something I wicked admire of other athletes in my peer group. I’ve been on a nice little DNF streak actually, if we’re sharing, ha! But I can take things too far at times. I was super FKT focused for a good few years there - that’s still something, those kind of self-driven efforts, that could be a focus for ‘25 - and it had me zeroing in, nabbing what I could in Mexico, one in Scotland, a handful here in LA and Arizona. But I found myself running a 24 mile segment in a pretty remote part of Cali during a major heat event (I hadn’t been keeping track with the weather) and pretty recklessly found myself without water which ultimately led to an airlifting by the Sheriff and FD. So all of that to say, I do know I sometimes need to save myself from myself. Listen to the signals your body’s sending you, especially when they’re distressing, exceptional. And in a way, that’s another important piece of running to me; always trying to better understand the uniqueness that is your body. Your body. We’re not all the same. We’re made up of different bits. (Again, back to the detriment of road racing, definition by time…) I’ve seen sinewy, fast, marathon frames get dumped on technical trail by less than (outwardly) exceptional looking run bodies. Elite women at certain distances that just bury the Elite men’s field (which is something I witnessed this year firsthand in Atacama, Chile with Speed Project (more to that later)) and that’s totally outstanding.
But flatly, and to wind this down, that’s running. It’s not a game. In tons of other sports your talent or technical prowess or creative outlierness can save you from an athletic or physical deficiency. With running: You’re doing nothing save finding and challenging the boundaries of your own flesh-vessel. Fine-tuning, not unlike a NASCAR or Formula-1 racer. Listening, sensing where your limitations exist, but knowing how where maybe some fast-twitch muscles need development, you can shift focus to more endurance oriented, heart-rate guided running. …All to say, there’s just always a calculus about ourselves we need to sort out, zero-in on.
Let’s talk about The Speed Project—a 340-mile (548 km) ultra relay with no spectators, no rules, and no prizes. How was this race for you?
TSP is always one of those tentpole weekends on my calendar. Especially now that it’s gone international- Chile, Atacama and Chamonix, France. Damn, what to say that hasn’t already been said… ?
This race, these races, they’re more a reunion for me than anything. And I think myself more a micro producer, someone who’s trying to make a vibe, build a moment, within the larger race itself. Because that’s really what this race is. You and the individuals that are riding along with you, trusting you, a simple directive of “We’re here, we need to get over there, k how?!”
I have some loose fundamentals when I’m putting a team together. (1) Vibes, high-energy, that’s first and foremost. If you’re not fun-loving, if I can’t see you really appreciating the setting for the “holy shit!” of what it is, I’m not interested in running with you. (2) Mostly everyone on the team should be a relative stranger, one to another. I try and think: I’m hosting a little party here, what personalities, what runner types would click? Can we forge a lasting, little micro community here in this thing? (Most all of the runners on teams I field are from different states- Atacama for eg, had: Boston, LA, Denver, Nashville, Detroit and Puerto Rico.) To where if we’re visiting one of these places we’ll be plugged right into that local scene, you’ll have a sure-fire friend to call. Can I facilitate long term friendships here? TSP is a big, gnarly trauma-bond of a happening. I’ve come to realize there will most absolutely be fights and spats over the tiniest of things, but those are extra pronounced when you’re hurting. You’re under-slept, your internal sense for routine is totally off, nutrition isn’t right and the idea of finishing the race is far out of sight and mind, especially when you’re racing towards some foreign landmark (unlike Las Vegas, pretty easy to gauge your finish there).
So this race is super special for me for a number of reasons. You definitely don’t feel like you’re racing. You’re surviving, living with singular purpose. You’re orienteering. You’re battling elements, surprises (police, checkpoints, lightning strikes, sand-stuck vehicles), personalities, cell reception, haha. But there’s something special about that finish line, the afterparty. It’s a global fraternity, runners from every stretch of the planet; zero ego, just big smiles, a “Can you fucking believe we did that?!” look in their eyes, and a load of stories that only really make sense to the participants. I feel like a kid out there. But at the same time, super adult having just negotiated 8-10 humans 300+ miles across some exotic terrain.
I think I’ve clocked 10+ TSP’s at this point and I feel more invested than ever. I see myself a bit of an ambassador for this race and what Nils and company have pulled together. I want people on a team of mine to go back to their local scene and talk about it, brag about, excite others to think about jumping in headlong. To challenge what it means to “race”, to run and be present, mindful of something more than your splits.
What do you think is the ‘right’ mindset for running?
To play on the words there a bit: I need running FOR my mental. A reset to clarity. So every day I’m doing a scan, top to bottom, how I’m feeling, body and soul. I’ve had a nagging achilles and hamstring thing that’s been tough on me for a good year or more. But I typically aim for 8 miles a day as baseline, may it be junk miles or something specific to trail (uphill climbs or downhill rips (I’m awful on both fronts)). But those are just numbers, data. Then there’s the real life, the human piece; issues with a relationship, work drama that weighs on the mind, feelings of inferiority, financial insecurity, a creeping depression, sadness for current events, etc., et al. So I don’t have an answer, not fucking close. But I try and really ride the highs and then soften the crashing lows. It may mean running hard, no music, just breath and footfalls. It may mean running with a podcast, half-hearing words that could inspire something, take the mind out of whatever down state it’s in. So, yeah, all of that to say, it’s really touch & go, a day to day thing. But running, movement, it works every time and I think it can work for everyone. Especially when the prospect of lacing up and starting your watch seems insurmountable.
Current running scene: I could really go wild here, I’ve always enjoyed this kinda shop talk. The boom of clubs, the money that’s entered the game, the cool factor lifestyle runners represent and have right now. The scene is showing out hard in all the peacock-y ways. Because ultimately it means new entrants. New entrants with different athletic pasts. Different proclivities. Stir the pot, shake up what’s been, I love it all. But probably the thing I’m tracking most right now in our growing space: the fashion, the lifestyle and how it’s gone mainstream. It’s hotfire to be a fucking runner right now. Just you hitting your city streets, opening up, bopping along, it inspires, or at least can inspire, who knows how many people around you. That person that’s been run-curious, has needed to make a life-change, is worried about looking weird. You might just show them something they can aspire to be. So when I say fashion I don’t mean Paris Fashion Week, I just mean this crossover into street fashion, athleisure. I heard Nils (TSP founder) talking about how he saw someone on IG the other day just walking through NYC when they saw someone with a Speed Project hat. They snapped a clandestine pic and put in their story, “I don’t know you, but I know what you did.” IDK, I feel like that kinda fits my attitude about the scene right now.
Lastly, let’s talk music.
I’m a different me every other day. No joke. But I’ve always got a big antenna out for inspiration, always on the hunt for influence. I spent half the year listening (and lost) to my cadence and breath on the trail. I was microdosing a pretty good deal so just re-tuning my brain, listening to birds, migratory species working their way either to or thru LA, super meditative. And our native Red Tail Hawks, there’s a park nearby I spend a ton of time at; hearing one of those things scream, either in attack mode or sounding out to its family, watching their aerial displays, incredible. The magic mush’s definitely help there, too.
Otherwise, more recently, as I’d been caught up (and whipsawed) in our political season some; I’d start a lot of runs with podcasts. At least the early part of my run when I’m gently checking in on the body, feeling out a sense for the workout we’re going to have on the day (I’ll spend two miles sexy pacing it, gauging), my mind kind of drifting in and out, hearing the words, but then my own monologue going. I’m pretty central in LA, and various out & backs make up a lot of my road work. Typically at some halfway point, or 5+ miles into it, I’ll maybe find stuff a little more high energy. Music.
And on the musical front: sheesh, it’s really all over the place. A different mood daily, it seems. Movies and soundtracks do a thing for me. I see a lot of flicks in theaters so there’s something about that space, the confluence of art on display, that makes those songs, sounds, vibes, really just pop for me. I’ve always been big on NPR and my local station here in LA, KCRW, is (biased opinion) hands down the best. They do the NPR programing thing, but then the morning and nights are dedicated to music. Their DJ’s curate up and coming artists, mix in old stuff, you can always bank on a theme or throughline to a set. Also, a good buddy of mine whom I spent a ton of time with on the trail during the Covid years, Danny Ogden (now back home living in Australia) was (and is) my musical guru. Dude spent time as a DJ, did a stint in a band, he just knows good sounds. He’d help curate playlists for a small run club I had going for a while. He tells me what stages to hit at Coachella, haha. He’s just a baddie all around- helluva runner, helluva human.
But to the last part of your question: for my money, like a good movie, a song or riff can just help a moment soar. Most of my miles are solo/solitary happenings, but if you went through some of my favorite tunes, my mind can replay an exact moment when an orchestral hit or a lyric took on a different meaning. I can see the space I’m running in, the time of day I’m doing it, can even tell you how my body was feeling in that exact moment. Music is a mystical specter to me. Sometimes it’s there. Other times it’s out of sight and mind.
"It’s really touch and go, a day-to-day thing. But running works every time, and I think it can work for everyone."
