Racing Against the Planet: The Environmental Cost of F1

I love Formula 1. Few things thrill me more than the roar of engines, the blur of color as cars whip past, and the strategy that unfolds over every lap. F1 is theater, science, and adrenaline stitched together. But as much as I cheer on my favorite drivers, I can’t ignore the uncomfortable truth: the sport I love is one of the most resource-hungry spectacles on Earth.

Fuel is the most obvious culprit. Each F1 car uses about 110 kilograms of fuel during a race. Multiply that by 20 cars and 24 races in a season, and the total tops 52,000 kilograms of fuel just on race days. That doesn’t even include qualifying, practice sessions, and testing. For comparison, the average road car burns about 50 kilograms of fuel in an entire week of commuting. F1 compresses months of everyday emissions into hours of competition.

Then there are the tires. Pirelli supplies over 1,800 tires for every Grand Prix weekend, most of which are used and discarded. Across a season, that’s around 40,000 tires, many retired after less than 20 laps. While the rubber is recycled for industrial use, the sheer scale of this churn is staggering.

Parts are another hidden weight. A Formula 1 car is a fragile masterpiece, rebuilt constantly between races. Wings, floors, gearboxes—thousands of components are swapped, scrapped, or redesigned every season. Most of these are made from carbon fiber, an incredibly strong yet energy-intensive material that is nearly impossible to recycle. A single crash can mean wasting several kilos of exotic materials and hundreds of hours of engineering effort.

But the largest share of the environmental impact doesn’t come from cars or parts—it comes from moving the circus around the planet. Formula 1 itself has admitted that over 70% of its carbon footprint comes from logistics. Teams ship hundreds of tons of equipment across continents, often by air freight, and thousands of staff travel with them. Add the hundreds of thousands of fans flying in for races, and the emissions from travel overwhelm what happens on track. In 2019, F1 estimated its total annual emissions at 256,000 tons—roughly the same as the yearly output of a small European city.

To its credit, the sport has begun to respond. Formula 1 has pledged to reach net-zero carbon by 2030. Hybrid engines, introduced in 2014, already reduced fuel consumption by about 30% compared to the old V8s. New rules set for 2026 will require cars to run on fully sustainable fuels. Teams are also experimenting with greener travel and energy-efficient facilities. These steps are encouraging, but critics argue the pace of change is too slow given the urgency of the climate crisis.

That’s the paradox for fans like me. I want to see the sport thrive. I want future generations to feel the same rush of a perfectly timed overtake or a last-lap showdown. But I also want a livable planet. Loving F1 means loving a sport that is both a showcase of human brilliance and a symbol of human excess.

Perhaps its greatest hope lies in innovation. F1 has always been a laboratory for the future. Disc brakes, hybrid systems, even elements of modern aerodynamics first appeared on the track before trickling down to road cars. If the same ingenuity is directed toward sustainability, the sport could once again lead the way. Imagine a championship where winning means being the fastest and the cleanest, where speed and responsibility share the same podium.

Until then, I’ll keep watching, cheering, and wrestling with the contradiction. Formula 1 is dazzling, fast, and deeply flawed—just like us.