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Spartan SoCal Trifecta Weekend Race Review – Perris Lake, California (January 2026)

Updated: 3 days ago


EXP 001 — Perris Lake

Event : Spartan Beast / Super / Sprint

Dates : January 24–25, 2026

Conditions : Low 50s at start, warming quickly into the mid-70s

Venue Profile : Flat-to-rolling terrain, heavy sun exposure, long sightlines, beach running.


This marks the inaugural race review under the new Expeditions framework. Each expedition expands beyond the race itself, integrating on-site sample collection for The Dirt Project, deep-sky imaging for The Night Sky Archive, and regional research for The Deep Time Project. The goal is to ground each event in the physical, astronomical, and human history of the place where we race, treating the location as more than just a backdrop and the race as only one layer of a much larger landscape.


Perris Lake Trifecta Weekend Key Takeaways


Course - Early elevation and granite exposure on the Beast, followed by long, unpredictable distances and classic “Spartan math.” The race didn’t really start until the beach.

Conditions - Rapid temperature swing required early hydration and clothing discipline - Sun exposure was constant; dehydration was a real risk.

Obstacles - Heavily concentrated along the beach, with early stacking in mile one for all distances. Quiet middle section for the Beast, then a dense obstacle finish.

Logistics - Straightforward parking and registration. VIP parking unnecessary at this venue.

Season Changes - Major redesign of medals and shirts; move toward standardized systems, customization, and (hopefully) fewer supply issues. Races will increase in distance with Spartan miles.

Overall - Reliable venue, solid early-season test, and a clear signal of Spartan’s shift toward scalability for t-shirts and medals.


At a Glance


Project Work

The Path Behind — History of the Region (Deep Time Project)

The Ground Below — Geology of the Region ( The Dirt Project)

The Sky Above — Astrophotography from the Race Site (the Night Sky Archve)


Overview

The 2026 Spartan season, titled The Year of the Wolf, kicked off in Southern California at Lake Perris State Recreation Area. This venue offers a little of everything: gradual climbs through open terrain, running along the beach, flat pavement sections, and typically favorable early-season weather. Course design this year leaned heavily toward obstacle stacking in the middle and latter portions, and Spartan reintroduced a dose of classic “Spartan miles,” reminding racers that advertised distances remain, at best, aspirational.


Now in its third season at Perris Lake, this event also marked the first visible rollout of several changes to Spartan as a brand. New medals and updated shirt designs made their debut, along with early signs of modifications to the festival and vendor setup. Some of these updates feel like genuine improvements, while others appear unfinished and likely to evolve as the season progresses.


Overall, Perris Lake remains a reliable and well-rounded venue, with straightforward logistics, a relatively flat course well suited for early-season speed, and enough terrain variation to keep the race from feeling monotonous.


A review of last year's event is here.



Logistics


Travel

As noted in the YouTube Race Preview, there are several viable travel options for this race, each with tradeoffs. Los Angeles International Airport (LAX) is the most obvious choice, but it often comes with heavy congestion exiting Los Angeles, especially on race weekends. Ontario International Airport is the closest airport to the event site, but as a regional hub it typically requires connections—often routing travelers through LAX anyway unless you’re already on the West Coast. San Diego International Airport is roughly a 1 hour and 45 minute drive from the venue, longer than LAX in pure distance but generally more predictable and less stressful in terms of traffic. For the past two years I’ve chosen to fly into San Diego, prioritizing consistency and calmer travel over shaving time off the drive.



Lodging

For the first two years I ran this race, I stayed in Moreno Valley, and under normal circumstances I’d still recommend it. It’s close, convenient, and has plenty of acceptable hotels and restaurants. That said, once Spartan shows up, prices reliably jump, as if the hotels suddenly discovered they’re hosting a destination event. This year was no different. Rather than overpay out of habit, I stayed in Hemet, a quieter, less polished town about 40 minutes from the venue. I booked a basic but clean room at the Quality Inn Hemet for significantly less, and the extra drive was a complete non-issue. The drive was easy,, mornings were calm, and nothing about the commute added stress to race day.


If saving money is more important to you than being 10 minutes closer to the festival, Hemet is a good choice. However, if you prefer being in an area where you might encounter other Spartans and don't mind spending a bit more, Moreno Valley is the nearest option.


Moreno Valley, CA — Hotels

  • Best Western Moreno Hotel & Suites — Standard chain hotel. Clean enough, predictable, close to everything. Works.

  • Econo Lodge Moreno Valley — Cheap and basic. You’re here to sleep, not hang out.

  • Comfort Inn & Suites near March Air Reserve Base — Another chain option. Functional, nothing memorable.

  • Motel 6 Riverside – Moreno Valley — Bare minimum. Fine if cost is the priority and expectations are low.


Moreno Valley, CA — Food


Hemet, CA — Hotels

  • Best Western Plus Diamond Valley Inn — Standard Best Western. Quiet, clean, forgettable in a good way.

  • Quality Inn Hemet – San Jacinto — Basic chain hotel. Worked fine, no issues.

  • Travelodge by Wyndham Hemet — Cheap. Acceptable if you’re managing costs.

  • Americas Best Value Inn & Suites Hemet — Budget lodging. Nothing to recommend beyond price.

  • Hemet Valley Motel — Old-school motel. Functional if you just need a bed.


Hemet, CA — Food


Venue - Perris Lake Recreational Area



When I visit Lake Perris State Recreation Area, the first thing that impresses me is the sheer scale of the place. The park spans more than 14,000 acres of rugged Southern California terrain surrounding a 2,320-acre reservoir (which we’ll refer to as a lake in this review) that’s part of the State Water Project. The lake dominates the landscape and draws crowds for boating, sailing, and jet-skiing, complete with a marina and sandy beach, but the diversity of use beyond the water is what really stands out. Miles of well-marked hiking, mountain biking, and running trails fan out into the surrounding hills, offering wide views of the lake and adjacent valleys.


Parking, Registration, Spartan Plus, Festival Area

Registration was set up directly in front of the main parking lot and was an easy walk even from the furthest spaces. Despite this, Spartan still offered VIP parking. I think the OCR KIngs will agree with me on this one. VIP parking can be a solid move at certain venues —Mountain Creek, for example — where shuttle bus schedules, long lines, rain, lightning, blisters, hunger, existential dread, and rapidly shifting weather can turn getting back to your car into a minor expedition of its own. Perris Lake is not Mountain Creek, and VIP parking here added no real value.


There were packet pickup lines on both days, but nothing unreasonable. If you arrived about an hour before your start time, it wasn’t a problem. On both Saturday and Sunday, Sprint racers who had already run the Beast or Super were required to return to registration to pick up a separate Sprint chip. Slightly annoying, but not a real issue. According to chatter on the Spartan Discord server, there’s an active effort underway to allow Trifecta racers to collect multiple chips at once and avoid this extra step. I’ll believe that when it actually happens.



Frankly, I think there’s something right about finishing a hard race and getting back in line still covered in mud, scraped up, and clearly worked. Newer racers notice, start asking questions, and conversations happen naturally—about pacing, gear, mistakes, and what to expect next. That interaction is part of how the culture gets passed along. Creating special lanes or treatment for people running multiple races might be efficient, but it also breaks that connection. Standing in the same line, under the same conditions, keeps everyone in the same shared space, and that matters more to me than shaving a few minutes off logistics.


And to be clear, standing in line drinking water and shoving a Clif Bar down your throat before the next race isn’t exactly a hardship—it’s just part of the rhythm of a multi-race day.


There was no Spartan Plus tent at Perris Lake, and I haven’t used the program in some time. What started as a practical support option gradually took on the feel of a VIP tent, with amenities and creature comforts that felt increasingly out of step with Spartan’s back-to-basics ethos. Part of the appeal of this sport is stripping things down, doing the work, and taking responsibility for your own preparation. Complaints about missing snacks feel misplaced in a race designed to make you uncomfortable on purpose. If the program has been phased out, that seems consistent with what Spartan is supposed to represent.


The festival area felt different this year. Traditionally, it functions as a marketplace—brands promoting nutrition, recovery, and gear to a highly engaged audience—but that layer was largely missing. Nearly all of the booths were military-affiliated, which serves a very different purpose than product marketing.


Aside from two food trucks, the only notable exception was Charley, an anti-cramp gel I used for recovery after Saturday’s race. Spartan still hasn’t locked in a post-race drink partner, they did have a post race bar Protein Puck., which is not a national brand. Whether this reflects a temporary transition or something more structural isn’t clear yet, but the absence is noticeable. Spartan racers should be an ideal demographic, and the fact that so few companies showed up suggests something in that equation may be shifting.


Race & Course Review


Course Layout

The only real elevation on the course showed up in the first half of the Beast. Once we cleared the gate and moved through the camping area, Spartan sent us out into the wide-open terrain northeast of the reservoir. From there, the course cut through the park’s hunting preserve, delivering a steady sequence of moderate climbs and long, rolling descents that never quite let you settle into a rhythm.



This section was dominated by massive granite outcroppings and constant exposure to the sun. There was little to no shade, and the rock itself reflected heat back at you as the morning progressed. What began in cool start-line temperatures climbed quickly into the low 70s, which made hydration and clothing management real considerations early on. Layers that felt right at the start became a liability fast, and dehydration was a legitimate risk—not because the terrain was extreme, but because the exposure was unrelenting.


More than anything, this was the moment to lock your head into the right frame of mind: the real race doesn't start until we hit the beach. So this section was about discipline—moving efficiently, managing heat, staying fueled, and resisting the urge to push when there was nothing to be gained.




Spartan also appears to be drifting back toward the good old days—when a “half marathon” is 15 miles and all other distances are more of a philosophical concept than a measurement. By the time we finally hit the beach after navigating granite, heat, and a minefield of squirrel holes, we were really only halfway done. For the remainder of the season, disregard the mileage on the course map.


The next portion of the Beast followed the shoreline almost exactly as it did last year, wrapping around the reservoir, pushing out to the peninsula, then turning back and threading through the parking lot area. This quiet return to longer, less predictable distances is something I fully support. It keeps you guessing. It keeps you humble. And it keeps your watch lying to you all season.



The Super, at roughly 7.5 miles, took a shorter loop through the granite outcroppings before joining the same beach section as the Beast. The Sprint stayed entirely along the shoreline. It was genuinely entertaining listening to first-time Sprint and Super racers comment on the distance—especially after dealing with the Beast the day before.


I spoke briefly with the starter, who confirmed that this is the direction Spartan is heading this year: no more standardized distances. If that holds, then it’s essentially 2018 all over again—and personally, I’m completely fine with that.


Obstacles & Flow


At Perris, most of the obstacles were concentrated along the beach, with a few notable exceptions. Helix, Bender, and Stairway to Sparta were all stacked within the first mile for both the Super and the Beast, with Tyrolean Traverse following shortly after for Beast runners. This kind of early obstacle stacking is a bit unusual—though not unheard of—and for early heats it added an extra layer of difficulty. Cooler morning temperatures combined with lingering dew made grips slick, forcing more caution than usual right out of the gate.

Click here to view a complete listing of all obstacles and their locations on this extended course(s). This information is stored in a database, allowing future races to contribute to the data set and enabling mid-season analysis of standard obstacle placement in typical races.


For the Beast, the long stretch away from the beach—through what can only be described as the squirrel stronghold at the base of the granite outcroppings—was relatively light on obstacles. This section was limited mostly to non-descript elements like Armor and Low Crawl. It was runnable and quiet from an obstacle perspective, with the real work clearly being saved for the return to the shoreline. Multi-Rig marked the final obstacle before heading back down to the beach, but this year Sandbag Carry was moved forward and placed immediately after it, tightening that sequence more than expected and making it harder to treat Multi-Rig as a clean reset point.



Once back on the beach, the course delivered a solid run of obstacles. A fun Barbed Wire Crawl—dry this year—was followed by a Bucket Carry through soft sand and then a deeply disappointing Dunk Wall. I mean, there is a lake of water right there. Instead, a shallow pit was dug and partially filled, resulting in little more than a head dip rather than a true dunk. While last year’s inflatable failure into the lake may explain the caution, this version felt overly conservative. Kayak Carry was also pushed much farther back than in previous years and served as the turnaround obstacle for all three distances. A note on Devil's Beard, a new obstacle. They had this in Greece, and it's nothing more than a cargo net. Pretty hyperbolic name for a simple obstacle.


As in past seasons, the festival area hosted several familiar obstacles, and this year was no exception. Slip Wall and Monkey Bars provided a straightforward but effective closing sequence before the finish.


There was no Fire Jump this year, which came as no surprise. Last season’s race was run under difficult conditions, with active California wildfires burning across Southern California, leaving the course dry, brown, and stripped of vegetation. This year, the contrast couldn’t have been sharper. The course was lush, with greenery everywhere and flowers in bloom, and the granite outcroppings felt even more dramatic framed by fresh growth. The transformation from last year’s scorched landscape to this season’s vibrant terrain made the course visually striking and underscored just how dramatically conditions in this region can change from one year to the next.


Last year, this section of the course was brown and drought-stricken following wildfire conditions. This year, the same terrain was green, lush, and actively blooming.
Last year, this section of the course was brown and drought-stricken following wildfire conditions. This year, the same terrain was green, lush, and actively blooming.

Medals and Trifecta Changes

Spartan rolled out a major revamp to the medal system this season, and overall it’s a smart and necessary shift. The core change is a generic base medal with a magnetic center that allows interchangeable hexes to be swapped in. Venue-specific hexes can be purchased separately, and I went that route here, building a Southern California Beast, Super, and Sprint set. The result is far more meaningful than accumulating a season’s worth of nearly identical medals, and it allows each race to carry some geographic identity rather than just another date on the calendar.




Trifecta medals have also been reworked. When you complete your first Trifecta, you now receive a generic Trifecta medal that can be customized with a 1× Trifecta hex—or anything else you choose. The old weekend Trifecta medal is gone, but racers still earn a Trifecta hex that can be added to any medal if they want. The emphasis has shifted away from collecting duplicate hardware and toward building something personal over time.


For athletes earning multiple Trifectas, Spartan has moved away from the oversized, increasingly impractical multi-Trifecta medals used in previous seasons. Totals are now aggregated into milestone categories—2–5, 6–10, and 10+—with corresponding medals that reflect cumulative progress. On top of that, Spartan is introducing milestone hexes for major achievements, such as 50 Trifectas. The end result is a cleaner, more scalable system that tracks long-term commitment without requiring athletes to store or transport massive metal trophies.


This new approach also addresses a very real logistical problem from last season, when medal shortages became an issue. A standardized base medal allows Spartan to swap lanyards, manage inventory more flexibly, and order quantities without having to predict how many multi-Trifecta medals might be earned at any given event. From an operations standpoint, it’s a much more reliable system.


That said, it’s also fair to acknowledge that this change won’t land the same way for everyone. Some athletes genuinely enjoyed the visibility and symbolism of the large multi-Trifecta medals, and for them, this shift feels like something meaningful was taken away. I don’t personally connect to that side of the culture, but I understand why people who’ve invested years into the sport might feel a sense of loss. The tradeoff here is clear: less spectacle in the festival area, but a system that actually scales, delivers consistently, and reflects how many races people are really running.

Overall, this redesign feels like a genuine improvement. It reduces redundancy, solves real operational problems, and gives athletes more control over how their accomplishments are represented. It’s a pragmatic evolution—one that prioritizes sustainability and customization over sheer size—and it’s probably overdue.

T-Shirts

The race shirts this season use the same material as last year, but the cut has changed: they’re now unisex only, with no separate women’s cut. The front and back graphics are identical across all distances, with the only differentiation coming from a small race-specific color accent on the sleeve. Personally, I like this approach. Dropping the oversized, distance-specific branding in favor of a more subdued Spartan logo makes the shirt wearable outside the race environment. Most people outside OCR have never heard of “the Beast,” but they’ve heard of Spartan, and that distinction matters if you actually wear these shirts day to day.



It’s also fair to acknowledge that the move to a unisex cut hasn’t landed well with everyone, particularly women who preferred having a dedicated women’s fit option. That frustration is understandable. From Spartan’s side, though, this change appears tied to the broader design reset happening this season—simplifying production, improving consistency, and focusing on cleaner, more versatile designs rather than multiple parallel cuts and graphics.

From a fit perspective, this year’s shirts work better for me, though that’s purely personal. I’d wear it either way, but this version feels cleaner and less like a costume. As someone who wears race shirts almost exclusively, I appreciate designs that don’t require a long explanation before a conversation can even start.


Spartan is also rotating the base shirt design every couple of months, which should result in roughly four distinct designs over the course of the 2026 season. Not everyone is ever happy with shirt designs, but at some point Spartan had clearly hit a ceiling on how many times the same helmet graphic could be recycled across shirts and medals. This reset gives them more design flexibility and keeps the season from feeling visually repetitive.


Taken together with the medal redesign, this also feels like a pragmatic response to last season’s supply issues. Fewer unique products, standardized base components, and predictable design rotations reduce risk across the board. It may mean less variety at any single event, but it greatly lowers the chances of shortages and mismatches. If the tradeoff is a simpler system that consistently delivers what people earn, that feels like a reasonable and necessary evolution.


Summary

EXP 001 at Perris Lake set the tone for the 2026 season in a way that felt intentional rather than accidental. The venue delivered exactly what it has become known for: straightforward logistics, a runnable but mentally demanding course, and enough environmental exposure to punish complacency. Course design leaned into longer distances, uneven terrain, and pacing discipline, while early-season weather added just enough variability to keep mistakes costly. Nothing here felt gimmicky, but nothing could be taken lightly either.


Just as importantly, this race marked the first visible expression of Spartan’s broader seasonal reset. Changes to medals, shirts, and distance philosophy signal a shift toward systems that scale better, rely less on spectacle, and prioritize consistency over novelty. Not every change will land equally for every racer, but taken together, they suggest a brand recalibrating for longevity rather than chasing reaction.


With the race itself complete, the focus now shifts beyond performance and logistics. What follows is the project-based work that defines the Expeditions framework—placing this race within a wider context that includes deep time, geology, and the night sky. The running is only one layer. The place itself is the rest of the story.


Related EXP - 001 Expedition Projects





The Ground Below - The Dirt Project



While spending time around Lake Perris, I became interested in how clearly the geology of the area is exposed at ground level. The landscape is built on granitic bedrock from the Peninsular Ranges, now uplifted and weathering into the coarse sands and decomposed granite that dominate the hillsides, trails, and open ground around the reservoir. In most settings, that material would continue downslope into river systems and eventually be recycled into sedimentary rock. Here, the reservoir interrupts that process.


This is part of my ongoing Dirt Project inquiry, which involves collecting and cataloging soil and sediment samples from race venues throughout the season. Using a small digging tool, I extract material, store it in labeled plastic bags, tag each sample with GPS coordinates, and archive it for later analysis in my home lab. Each sample is recorded with field notes on location, terrain, and material behavior, building a comparative record of how geology expresses itself underfoot—on trails, courses, and in transition. In Southern California, where ancient granite batholiths have been uplifted, exposed, and aggressively weathered, this work taps into a larger geological story. The region’s extensive granite outcrops and decomposed surfaces make it an ideal setting to study how bedrock breaks down, moves, and reshapes the very ground we run on.


The Sky Above - The Night Skies Archive



I set up my Seestar S50 in Hemet and captured the Pleiades star cluster (M45), a dense grouping of hot, young blue stars suspended in a faint veil of interstellar dust. The brightest stars resolve as crisp point sources, while subtle blue reflection nebulosity surrounds several of them—light scattered by nearby dust rather than emitted from it. Behind them, a rich field of fainter stars adds depth and scale, reinforcing that this is not an empty sky but a layered stellar environment.


Within the race review, this image serves as a quiet counterpoint to the physical intensity of the event: a brief observational record of the larger cosmic context above the course. Full technical details and acquisition notes are linked separately for those who want to go deeper.


Details of this capture, along with background on M45, are archived as part of the season-long Night Skies Archive series.


The Path Behind - The Deep Time Project



During my time in Southern California, I visited the San Diego Natural History Museum and spent time with the Cerutti Mastodon exhibit. What stood out was not a definitive conclusion, but the way the exhibit quietly linked paleontology and archaeology through place. The site presents mastodon remains dated to roughly 130,000 years ago, alongside evidence suggesting patterned bone breakage and stone association, while openly acknowledging uncertainty and debate. I am not treating this as proof or resolution. Instead, this entry follows an observation: that a fossil discovery can expand the temporal depth of a landscape, helping explain why regions like the Perris Lake basin preserve overlapping records of deep biological time and much later human presence.


This piece is part of an ongoing inquiry into deep time and place.



Closing

Nothing about this expedition was meant to be revelatory. I ran the races and spent time in the surrounding landscape. Along the way, I paid attention to the ground underfoot, the deeper geology shaping it, the fossil record preserved within it, and the night sky above it. I also looked at how people have lived in this place, at very different moments in time, using different tools and knowledge.


None of this changed who I am or what I do. It simply added context.


This is the approach behind these expeditions: move through a place, observe it across multiple scales—astronomical, geological, biological, and human—and try to understand how those layers coexist without forcing them into a single story.

It was simply interesting to look more closely.





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