2004 finisher

Click here to read this story in English

Du Trockenlippiger, sei stets auf der Suche nach Wasser!

Die trockene Lippe ist ein sicheres Zeichen

Dass sie am Ende die Quelle finden wird.

Diese Suche ist eine gesegnete Unrast

Sie überwindet jedes Hindernis

Ist der Schlüssel zu dem, was du begehrst.

Wenn du auch kein Gefäß hast, höre nicht auf zu suchen …

(Rumi)

Schritt, Schritt, Schritt, nur nicht stehen bleiben. Atmen, ein-, ausatmen, ausgedörrte Luft durchströmt den Körper. Das Ziel in weiter Ferne, den Kopf möglichst leer, den Geist ruhen lassen, je leerer desto besser, weniger Ballast, keine dem Vorankommen abträgliche Gedanken. Schritt, Schritt, Schritt, in Bewegung bleiben.

Über 50°C im Tal des Todes, Death Valley, mit gemessenen 56,7°C neben der libyschen Wüste der heißeste Ort weltweit. Steinwüste, ausgedörrte Salzseen, Sanddünen und vor und unter den Läufern bis zu über 70°C heißer Asphalt. Drei Anstiege, von Badwater, mit -86 m der tiefste Punkt der westlichen Hemisphäre,  auf über 1.500 m zum Towne Pass hinauf, dann hinab, wieder hinauf und als Finale noch ein knapp 20 km langer Aufstieg zum Mount Whitney Portal hinauf auf fast 2.600 m. Gesamtlänge der Strecke 216 km, für die die Läufer nicht länger als 60 Stunden brauchen dürfen.

Bereits 3 Wochen vor dem Lauf reisen Ingrid, meine Frau, und ich an, leben im Wohnmobil, rühren die Klimaanlage nicht an. Langsam wollen wir uns an die Hitze gewöhnen, mit ihr vertraut werden, sie lieben lernen, ist sie doch eine hervorstechende Eigenschaft des Badwater Ultras, der immer dann stattfindet, wenn es im Death Valley am heißesten ist. Zudem möchte ich mit Landschaft und Strecke vertraut werden, Teile von ihr als abschließendes Training absolvieren, Erfahrungen vor Ort sammeln. Bis zum Start kann ich die gesamte Strecke mit geschlossenen Augen visualisieren, habe sie in Teilabschnitte zerlegt, bin sie gedanklich bereits 100-mal gelaufen.

Dennoch, als wir nach 6 Tagen, die wir in den Panamint Ranges und im Panamint Valley verbracht haben, in Stovepipe Wells aus dem Wohnmobil steigen, die brennende Sonne auf unseren Körpern lastet, die Augen von den feurigen, dörrenden Winden, dem Gluthauch des Schmelzofen zu brennen beginnen, wird mir der Gedanke, hier laufen zu wollen, immer fremder, erscheint unwirklich. Alles ist heiß. Du willst duschen, nimmst das Shampoo – heiß. Du willst in Deine Plastiksandalen schlüpfen, die du dummerweise in der Sonne hast stehen lassen, es verbrennt dir die Fußsohlen. Du stellst voller freudiger Erwartung die kalte Dusche an – heiß.

Ca. 75 Läufer werden jedes Jahr beim Badwater Ultramarathon zugelassen. Es handelt sich um ein reines Einladungsrennen, für das man sich auf Basis vorgeschriebener Qualifikationsstandards zu bewerben hat, wobei auch bei Erfüllung der Standards eine Einladung nicht garantiert wird. Jeder  Läufer ist für eigene Betreuer nebst Fahrzeug verantwortlich, 2 Betreuer Minimum sind Pflicht, die im Wagen, manchmal mitlaufend, den Läufer während des gesamten Laufes zu versorgen haben.

12. Juli, 6 Uhr, Montagmorgen an der Lache Badwater. Kein schlechtes Wasser, keine giftige Pfütze. Nur Salwasser, erbarmungslos der Sonne ausgesetzt und dennoch auch an diesen für uns so unwirtlichem Ort – Leben: Salzschilf, Insekten, Gliederfüßler und eine spezielle, nur hier vorkommende Schneckenart. Ein paar Meilen entfernt, im Salt Creek, der von Quellen gespeist wird, lebt der Salt Creek Pupfish, der nirgendwo sonst existiert. Über Jahrtausende hat er sich langsam angepasst als der große See, der einmal das Death Valley bedeckte, allmählich austrocknete, zur Salzwüste sich wandelte, die zurückbleibenden Tümpel immer salzhaltiger wurden.

Noch ist die Temperatur mit knapp 40°C erträglich, im Vergleich zum Glutofen des herannahenden Tages. Aufstellen zum Gruppenphoto, Nationalhymne, dann starten ca. 25 Läufer, hinein in eine grandiose Naturarena, unspektakulär, ohne Trara, jubelnde Menge und VIPs. Um 8 und 10 Uhr folgen 2 weitere Gruppen, der Verkehr wird so entzerrt, Gedrängel und Stau weitgehend vermieden. Insgesamt sind 72 Teilnehmer am Start, darunter 7 Frauen.

Mit dem Startschuss beginnt eines der extremsten Rennen weltweit, eine Gratwanderung in Grenzbereiche des menschlich Erträglichen hinein. Körper und Geist, sofern von Vernunft getrieben, würden schon nach wenigen Stunden aufgeben, gar nicht erst bei diesem Rennen antreten. Jedoch der Wille, der tief verankerte Wunsch durch solch eine extreme Erfahrung hindurchzugehen, trägt den Läufer Stunde um Stunde, Schritt für Schritt noch 2 Tage lang dem Ziel entgegen. Allerdings beenden bis zu 45% der Läufer das Rennen vor dem Ziel. Dieses Jahr ist die Quote der offiziellen Finisher mit 79 % erfreulich hoch, 2 Läufer beenden das Rennen inoffiziell, das heißt nach Ablauf des Zeitlimits von 60 Stunden, 14 scheiden aus.

Die Luft scheint zu brennen, treibt die Körpertemperatur nach oben. Innere Verbrennungswärme kommt hinzu, freigesetzt bei der Energiegewinnung, die den Läufer in Bewegung hält. Der Verstand taucht ab. Unzurechnungsfähig.

Schritt, Schritt, Schritt, immer weiter, ausatmen, einatmen. Trinken, trinken, trinken, mehrere Liter in der Stunde, mögen Kehle und Magen auch rebellieren. Verzweifelt versucht der Körper einer Überhitzung zu entrinnen, Verdunstungskälte durch Schweiß zu erzeugen, Schweiß, den  die Hitze, noch angefacht von starken thermischen Winden, sofort von der  Haut saugt.

Die Sonne, die den Erdball uns erhellt –

Naht sie ein wenig, brennt die ganze Welt.

(Rumi)

Meine Betreuer, Bennie, mein Trainer und Gewinner des diesjährigen Swiss Gigathlon (www-ad-extremum.de), seine Freundin Birgit und Ingrid, müssen jetzt Schwerstarbeit verrichten, beginnen von außen zu kühlen, laufen mit, legen mir ca. alle 7 Minuten ein nasses, eisgekühltes Handtuch über die Schulter, tränken Mütze und Nackenschutz mit Eiswasser, reichen mir einen Waschlappen, gefüllt mit Eis, den ich unter der Mütze auf dem Kopf trage. Sie hoffen, damit einen Anstieg der Körpertemperatur zu vermeiden, hoffen, mir damit Schäden durch die Hitze wie Krämpfe, Erschöpfung und Hitzschlag zu ersparen. Trinken, Schritt, kühlen, trinken, Schritt, kühlen, nur nicht ans Aufgeben denken.

Dazu kommen noch als zusätzliche Belastung: Die Durchführung psychologische Tests, die Reaktions- und Erinnerungsvermögen im Verlauf des Rennens messen,  6 x venöse Blutabnahmen, Blutdruckmessungen, Urinproben, Messung der inneren Körpertemperatur, wofür ich einen kleinen Sender geschluckt habe, der Magen und Darm durchwandert, und eine Reihe andere Untersuchungen. Zusammen mit 9 anderen Läufern bin ich Teil des wissenschaftlichen Projektes Runex123 unter der Leitung von Dr. Holger Finkernagel, das u.a. Plasmaverschiebungen und psychologische Verhaltensänderungen während einer Extrembelastung untersuchen möchte. Während der Nacht werde ich die psychologischen Test verweigern, zu sehr bin ich mit mir selbst beschäftigt, am nächsten Tag die Blutabnahme, als ich auf den langen Geraden vor Lone Pine unter der erneuten Hitze leide, mein Magen rebelliert.

Am Nachmittag erreiche ich Stovepipe Wells, knapp 70 km liegen hinter mir. Eine erste, kurze Pause, dann beginnt der lange Aufstieg zum Towne Pass,  27 km, 1.500 m Höhendifferenz. Bisher habe ich mich gut gefühlt, bin trotz meines 10+5 Rhythmus (10 Minuten laufen, 5 Minuten gehen), den ich von Anbeginn konsequent eingehalten habe, recht flott unterwegs gewesen. Jedoch, ohne es zu spüren, die Hitze, der Wind sie haben mich ausgelaugt, Energie genommen, die mir jetzt beim Anstieg fehlt. Sieg und Niederlage bei diesem Rennen entscheiden sich weitgehend auf diesen ersten 70 km, in der größten Hitze, wer nicht haushaltet mit seien Kräften, sich verleiten lässt, zu schnell angeht, ohne es zu merken, er hat bereits verloren. An Laufen ist nicht mehr zu denken, der Körper verweigert den Dienst, zügiges Gehen muss reichen. Die Nacht bricht herein, müde bin ich nicht, jedoch auf halber Höhe geht nichts mehr. Essen, 20 Minuten auf dem Boden liegend Ruhe finden, wegdämmern. Meine Crew wacht über mich, ich vertraue ihr blind, lasse mich fallen. Als Läufer bin ich nur ein Rädchen im Getriebe, chancenlos ohne meine sich aufopfernde Crew.

Weiter, zum Towne Pass hoch, dann, ein falscher Bissen, mein Magen rebelliert, entleert sich, ich fühle mich erleichtert. Maria, die ihren Mann Angel betreut, bietet mir gekühlte Obststückchen an, Balsam diese Geste, willkommene Abwechselung. Oben am Pass kurze Rast, dann geht es bergab, endlich, Laufen ist wieder möglich. 20 km hinab ins Panamint Valley lassen die Oberschenkel erzittern. Wieder ist der Körper ausgelaugt, bis zur dritten Zeitstation möchte ich noch, ihre Lichter habe ich in der Dunkelheit vor Augen, wenige Kilometer nur noch. Jedoch, es ist sinnlos, ich komme kaum voran, gehe mühsam. Bennie rät zur sofortigen Pause, widerstandslos stimme ich zu. 45 Minuten Rast, essen, dann auf die dünne Matte, nur ein Laken bedeckt mich, über mir Millionen von Sternen, für die ich keine Augen habe. Spinnen, die tödliche schwarze Witwe, Skorpione, Schlangen, sonstiges Getier, es berührt mich nicht, ich liege am Boden, Ruhe suchend, um neue Kraft zu schöpfen.

Vor der Zeit stehe ich auf, weiter. Gedanken lassen sich nicht vermeiden, warum nur tue ich mir dies an? Genuss am Laufen kann es nicht sein, den finde ich hier nicht. Diese großartige Landschaft, sie kann ich unter anderen Umständen viel besser in mich aufnehmen. Gedanken, nie mehr nehme ich an solch einem Lauf teil. Gründe zum Aufgeben gibt es keine, bei aller Erschöpfung, es geht mir gut, die paar Blasen an den Füßen, Marginalien. Meiner Crew fühle ich mich verpflichtet, sie nennt mich „The Desert Fox“, hat unseren Van damit beklebt, verziert mit so sinnreichen Sprüchen wie: „Pain is temporary – glory forever!“ und  „A goal without a pain – is a dream!!“. Also weiter. Wieder ein Anstieg auf über 1.500 m Höhe. Blicke zurück, eine Scheinwerferkette von Begleitfahrzeugen zieht den Townes Pass hinab, durch das Panamint Valley, tröstlich schön, dort war ich vor Stunden. Wieder rebelliert mein Magen, soll er seinen Willen haben, raus damit. Ich trinke, muss Wasser lassen, immer wieder, mein Körper nimmt keine Flüssigkeit mehr auf, der Salzverlust war zu groß, wurde nicht ausreichend ausgeglichen.

Wieder bin ich bergauf zu einem Kriechtier geworden, ein Powernap von 15 Minuten lässt mich erneut als Läufer erwachen. Endlich geht es bergab, über 50 km bis nach Lone Pine, auf endlosen Geraden, die ich so liebe, die im Unendlichen zu verschwinden scheinen. Zur Linken die Sierra Nevada, dort liegt das Ziel, glasig im Dunst eines heißen Tages. Starke Winde, die Sand über die Straße blasen, den Lauf, ich möchte ihn nun zu Ende bringen, eine zweite Nacht vermeiden. Wieder laufe ich im 10+5 Rhythmus, wieder leistet meine Crew Schwerstarbeit, trinken, Schritt, Kühlung, trinken, Schritt, Kühlung.

Fast im Ziel, ein letzter Anstieg von knapp 20 km auf 2.600 m Höhe, die Stimmung hebt sich, den Zacken des Mount Whitney vor Augen, ein würdiges Ziel, und siehe da, mein Kämpferherz erwacht, unter 40 Stunden sind noch möglich. Zügiges Gehen bergauf, Ingrid gibt das Tempo vor, an ihrem Rücken saugen sich meine Augen fest. Sie geht vor mir her, soweit sie kann, dann löst Bennie sie ab. Es ist überstanden, geschafft. Aus der Trance eines langen Laufes, aus dem innersten Sein erwacht der Läufer, neugeboren, Tränen vergießend. Dies war nicht ein Lauf über 216 km in brüllender Hitze, Pässe hinauf, Nächte hindurch, es war eine Reise durch innere Berge und Täler.

„Aufersteh’n, ja aufersteh’n,

wirst du, mein Staub,

nach kurzer Ruh“.

(Gustav Mahler, 2. Symphonie)

Das Abenteuer Selbsterfahrung, völlige Hingabe, Verzweiflung und Vergessen beim Lauf, das Glücksgefühl Anzukommen ist unbeschreiblich und auch nach Jahren noch ein seltenes, kostbares Gut. Dabei nicht hoch genug einzuschätzen, eine besondere Erfahrung bei diesem Lauf, mein Team, Bennie, Birgit und Ingrid waren der Schlüssel zum Erfolg, ihnen gebührt mein Dank, meine Hochachtung.

Von links: Chris Kostman, der Veranstalter, Birgit Dasch, The Desert Fox, Ingrid Rücknagel-Böhnke, Bennie Lindberg.

Beginnen nicht auch Sie zu spüren, wie etwas in Ihnen erwacht? Nein? Lehnen Sie sich zurück, horchen Sie tief in sich hinein, es muß ja nicht gleich Badwater sein.

„The ability to endure beyond percieved limits requires a desire to continue. But now, rather than an act of will, such excursions are an act of faith.“ (Jay Birmingham, The Longest Hill, Death Valley To Mount Whitney, 1981).

© Günter Böhnke, Juli 2004

2004 finisher

Click here to read this story in German

Step, step, step, don’t stop. Breathe, breathe in, breathe out, dried air flows through the body.

The finish line, far ahead in the distance, the head as empty as possible, keeping the mind quiet, the emptier the better, less to carry, no harmful thoughts which make it hard to move on. Step, step, step, remain in motion.

Over 50 degrees Celsius in Death Valley, with measured 56.7 degrees Celsius the hottest place world-wide besides the Libyan Desert. Stone desert, dried up salt flats, sand dunes and in front of and below the runners up to over 70 degrees Celsius hot bitumen. Three ascents, starting at Badwater, with – 86 m the lowest point of the western hemisphere, up Towne Pass, over 1,500 m in elevation., then down, up again and at last still another hardly 20 km long ascent to the Mount Whitney Portal at nearly 2,600 m. Overall length of the distance 216 km, for which the runners may not need more than 60 hours.

Already 3 weeks in advance of the Badwater Ultra, Ingrid, my wife, and I arrive, living in a RV, not touching the air conditioning. Step by step we want to get accustomed to the heat, to become familiar with it, learn to love it, is it of course the special trade-mark of the Badwater Ultra, which takes place whenever it is hottest in Death Valley. In addition, I would like to get well acquainted with the landscape and the course, running parts of it to finalize my training, gain experience here and now. Up to the start I am able to visualize the entire distance with eyes closed, have divided it into sections, have run it already 100-times mentally.

However, when we stepped out of our RV at Stovepipe Wells after 6 days, which we spent in the Panamint Ranges and Panamint Valley, the burning sun resting on our bodies, the eyes beginning to get smart by the fiery, dehydrating winds, the scorching breath of a melting furnace, more and more the thought to want to run here becomes stranger, seems unreal. Everything is hot. You want to take a shower, grab the shampoo – hot. You want to slip into your plastic sandals, which you foolishly have forgotten in the sun, it burns your soles. Full of joyful expectation you turn on the cold shower – hot.

About 75 runners will be invited to the Badwater Ultra every year. It is a pure invitational race, for which one has to apply on basis of prescribed qualification standards, however also fulfilling the standards an invitation is not guaranteed. Each runner is responsible for his own crew members including a support vehicle. 2 crew members minimum is a must, who have to support the runner during the entire run, sometimes driving the car, sometimes running along.

12^th, July, 6 o’clock, Monday morning at the pool Badwater. No bad water, no poisonous puddle. Only saline water, pitiless exposed to the sun and nevertheless also at this place, so inhospitable for us – life: pickle weed, insects, other arthropods, and the Badwater spring snail, which is known to live only in this one small pool. The Salt Creek Pupfish, which does not exist anywhere else, lives few miles away, in the Salt Creek, which is fed by springs. Over thousands of years it has slowly adapted, as the large lake, which covered once Death Valley, gradually drained, changed to a salt desert, the remaining pools getting saltier step by step.

Still the temperature with nearly 40 degree Celsius is bearable in comparison to the glow furnace of the approaching day. Set up to the group photo, national anthem, then approx. 25 runners get in motion, into a magnificent natural arena, without up-roar, without hanky-panky, cheering crowd or VIPs. At 8 and 10 o’clock two further groups follow, thus keeping traffic low, avoiding crowding and a traffic jam. Altogether 72 participants are at the starting line, including 7 women.

With the starting signal one of the most extreme ultra races world-wide begins, a burr migration facing frontiers of the human bearable. Body and mind, as far as driven by reason, would already give up after few hours, would not even begin this running. However the will, the deeply embodied desire to pass through such an extreme experience, carries the runner, hour after hour, step by step, through day and night towards the finish line. However, up to 45 % of the runners terminate the run before reaching the goal. This year the ratio of official finishers with 79 % is pleasing high, 2 runners finished after the time limit of 60 hours, 14 did not finish.

Air seems to burn, driving the body temperature upward. Internal heat of combustion adds to it, set free during the release of energy, which keeps the runner in motion. Understanding dips off. Irresponsibly.

Step, step, step, constantly moving, breathe out, breathe in. Drink, drink, drink, several liters per hour, may throat and stomach revolt. Despaired, the body tries to escape from overheating, to produce evaporative cold from sweat. Sweat, which is immediately sucked from the skin by the heat, which is blown into flame by strong thermal winds.

The sun, which illuminates the globe for us –

If it approaches little, the whole world burns.

 (Rumi)

My supporters, Bennie, my coach and winner of the Swiss Gigathlon this year (www-ad-extremum.de), his girl friend Birgit and Ingrid have to carry a heavy load now, begin to cool from the outside, run along, put to me approx. every 7 minutes a wet, ice-cooled towel over the shoulder, soak cap and neck shroud with ice water, hand me a face-cloth, filled with ice, which I carry under the cap on the head. They hope to avoid thereby a rise of body temperature, hope to save me from harm by the heat such as cramps, heat exhaustion and heat stroke. Drink, step, cooling, drink, step, cooling, do not think about quitting.

On top of that as an extra burden: the execution of psychological tests, which measure reaction and memory abilities while running, 6-times venous blood removal, measurement of blood pressure, urine samples, measurement of internal body temperature, for which I gulped down a small transmitter, wandering through stomach and intestine, and a row of other medical examinations. Together with 9 other runners I am part of the scientific project Runex123 under the direction of Holger Finkernagel , medical doctor, that among other things would like to examine plasma volume changes and mental and emotional changes in behavior as consequences of extreme prolonged endurance exercise, heat stress, sleep deprivation, and potential nutritional deficit. During the night I’ll refuse the psychological tests, too much I’m engaged with myself, on the next day one blood removal, when I suffer on the long straight lines before Lone Pine under the renewed heat, my stomach revolts.

In the afternoon I reach Stovepipe Wells, nearly 70 km lie behind me. A first, short break then the long ascent to Townes Pass begins, 27 km, 1,500 m in elevation gain. So far I felt well, have been quite quickly on the way despite my 10+5 rhythm (10 minutes running, 5 minutes going), which I consequently kept from the beginning. However, without feeling it, the heat, the wind, they have leached me out, taken energy, which I miss now on the rise. Victory and defeat in this contest is decided on this first 70 km, in the most extensive heat, the one who don’t economize with his strength, who be carried away to go out too fast, without recognizing it, has already lost.  No chance to run any  more, the body refuses the service, brisk going must be enough. The night comes down, I’m not tired, however, half way up, I’m stuck. Something to eat, lying on the soil for 20 minutes to get some rest, dozing away. My crew keeps an eye on me, I trust them blindly, let myself drop down. As a runner I’m only a small wheel in the gear-box, chanceless without my crew devoted to me.

Go on, up to Townes Pass, then, a wrong bite, my stomach bristles up in protest, empties itself, I feel relieved. Maria, who cares for her husband Angel, offers cooled fruit bites to me, balsam this gesture, an appreciated change. A short rest at Townes Pass, then downhill it goes, at last, running is possible again. 20 km of downhill running, my thighs begin to tremble. Again, my body is leached out, to the third time station I still would like to go, its lights glowing in the darkness I already have in eyes, few kilometers only. However, it is senseless, I hardly advance, laborious my stride. Bennie recommends an immediate break, without any resistance I agree. 45 minutes of rest, something to eat, then on the thin mat, only a sheet covers me, millions of stars above, for which I do not have eyes. Spiders, the deadly black widow, scorpions, snakes, other beasts, it doesn’t affect me, I’m lying on the ground, looking for peace, in order to attain new strength.

Before time, I stand up, forwards. Thoughts cannot be avoided, why only do I this to me? Enjoyment of running, this can’t be, doesn’t find it here. This great landscape, under other circumstances I should be able to absorb it much better. Reasons for giving up, none, despite all the exhaustion, I’m quite all right, those few blisters at the feet, marginal notes. I feel obligated to my crew, they call me “The Desert Fox”, have labeled our van which such ingenious sayings like: “Pain is temporary – glory forever!” and “A goal without a pain – is a dream!!”. Come on, then. Again a rise of about 1.500 m in height. Views back, a headlight chain of support vehicles pulls down Towne Pass, through Panamint Valley, warm comfort, there I was hours ago. Again my stomach revolts, should have its will, forth with it. I drink, must pass water, again and again, my body take up no more liquid, the loss of salt was too much, wasn’t sufficiently balanced.

Again I was becoming a reptile uphill, a powernap of 15 minutes let me awake as a runner again. In the end, downhill again, over 50 km to Lone Pine, on endless straight lines, which I love so much, which seem to disappear in infinity. The Sierra Nevada at left, there lays the goal, glassily in the vapor of a hot day. Strong winds, blowing sand over the road. The run, I would like to bring to an end now, avoiding a second night. Again I run, making use of the 10+5 rhythm, again, my crew has to give their best, drink, step, cooling, drink, step, cooling.

Almost at the finish line, a last ascent of about 20 km to a height of 2,600 m, the state of mind is lifting, the spike of Mount Whitney in front of my eyes, a worthy goal, and behold, my brave heart awakes, less than 40 hours is still possible. Brisk going uphill, Ingrid sets the speed, at her back my eyes suck firmly. She walks ahead of me, as far as she can, then Bennie replaces her. It is done, accomplished. Be roused from the absorption of a long run, from the inmost soul, the runner awakes, newly born, tears pouring. This was not a run over 216 km in roaring heat, up passes, nights through, it was a journey through inner mountains and valleys.

“Rise from the dead, yeah, rise from the dead,

You will, my dust,

after a short rest.”

(Gustav Mahler, 2. Symphony)

The adventure self experience, complete devotion, despair and oblivion during the run, the  happy feeling to arrive is indescribable and still after all the years a rare, precious property. Not high enough to appraise, a special experience at this run, my crew, Bennie, Birgit and Ingrid, they were the key to success, them is entitled my thanks, my respect.

From left: Chris Kostman, Race Director, Birgit Dasch, The Desert Fox, Ingrid Ruecknagel-Boehnke, Bennie Lindberg.

Don’t you feel how something awakes inside of you? No? Lean back, listen carefully deep inside yourself, it must not be Badwater to start with.

“The ability to endure beyond perceived limits requires a desire to continue. But now, rather than an act of will, such excursions are an act of faith“ (Jay Birmingham, The Longest Hill, Death Valley To Mount Whitney, 1983).

© Guenter Boehnke, August 2004

2003 official finisher

Following is the report of Badwater participant Scott Ludwig of Peachtree City, Georgia. A Badwater rookie, his crew consisted of Paula May (Crew Chief), Eric Huguelet (Paula’s husband), Al Barker (Scott’s training partner over the past 10 years), Gary Griffin (Scott’s friend and an accomplished ultrarunner from Tallahassee), and Josh (Scott’s 17-year-old son). Everyone on the crew is an accomplished runner. Here is Scott’s story. (Note: there is a reference in the story to a ‘streak.’ Scott has run every day since November 29, 1978—the ‘streak’ being referred to.

Seven days in July. ‘Badwater Week.’ And what a week it was.

Friday, July 18 (-4 days)

Paula, our crew chief, held the final DARKSIDE crew meeting at her house. Gary, Al, Paula and I. Josh? Had to work. Eric? Went to the Braves game. Priorities, you understand.

We went over our final gear check and chronological plan for the upcoming week. It appeared we had our game plan firmly in place. All that remained was the execution. Of the game plan, that is (not me!).

Years of training and months of planning were about to be put to the test. We believed we were ready. And willing. And yes, able. We’d find out soon enough.

Saturday, July 19 (-3 days)

Delta takes us from Atlanta to Las Vegas (by way of Dallas). I’d like to say an uneventful airplane ride, but that would be a lie. As I had been heavily hydrating the past several days, I finished off a 20-ounce bottle of water just before boarding the plane. After sitting on the plane for 30 minutes (we still had not left the gate), I realized I had to urinate. Desperately. Just as I was about to visit the restroom, the pilot announced we were ready to take off and to please be seated. OK, I could wait until we were in the air.

However, we crept along the runway, making my particular condition magnify in urgency. When the pilot announced that we were ‘4th in line for takeoff,’ that was it for me. I jumped out of my seat (figuring I had time, since planes take off at two minute intervals) and headed to the restroom, despite the flight attendant ‘reminding’ me that the pilot asked that we be seated. I told her I couldn’t wait any longer.

While I was inside the restroom, I heard the flight attendant (obviously on the phone to the pilot) saying ‘I’m sorry, sir, he said he couldn’t wait any longer and ignored me.’ Just freakin’ great: two years of dedicated Badwater training down the drain ‘cuz I just know once I exit the restroom I’ll be escorted off the plane. The pressure was so intense that I wasn’t even able to urinate. Upon exiting the restroom, I was relieved (literally, not figuratively) that the flight attendant merely assaulted me verbally (as if I were an 8 year old) about disregarding the pilot’s instructions. I apologized and told her it wouldn’t happen again. Later, once we were in the air, I returned to the restroom, where I was finally relieved (figuratively, not literally).

Once we landed in Las Vegas, we rented our 14-passenger van, dropped off two of the seats (we needed storage space!) at the house of a friend of Paula’s, and made a final shopping trip (cooler, meals, water, miscellaneous items) to Walmart. Finally, we checked into our hotel for some much needed rest (I slept 12 hours—something I haven’t done since college).

Sunday, July 20 (-2 days)

Gary, Eric, Paula and I went for a short run in Vegas. We noticed we were perspiring—something we weren’t expecting considering (a) we were running at a 9-minute pace and (b) there’s no humidity in Vegas. What implications did this hold for Badwater?

We loaded up the van and made the 2 _ hour drive to Furnace Creek, where we were welcomed by temperatures hovering around 120 degrees. Welcome to hell. Once we settled into our rooms, we drove out to the starting line in Badwater, where it was even warmer. Driving back to the hotel, we let Josh out of the van 2 miles out so he could run in to test the conditions.

Gary and I waited for Josh, anxious to hear his report. However, he didn’t need to say a thing: the color in his cheeks said it all. They were BRIGHT RED, approximately the color of a ripe tomato. Later that night, Josh and I went to the pool to cool off. Or so we thought. The water temperature had to have been in the 90’s, and the air temperature was still close to 110. Surely the conditions would improve by Tuesday (race day).

The rest of the evening was spent raiding the hotel’s ice machines and wondering whether or not Al (he was flying to Las Vegas this evening and renting a car) would be able to find us in Furnace Creek. He did. A good omen, perhaps?

Another 9 hours of sleep for me; a good investment for what lies ahead.

Monday, July 21 (-1 day)

A short run to start the day, followed by a visit to the hotel’s breakfast bar. Actually, breakfast buffet is more like it. Fresh fruit, cereal, breakfast burritos, eggs, bacon, sausage, hash browns, English muffins, biscuits and gravy, pancakes, apple fritters, juices, coffee, soda, water…good timing, as the crew and I were able to load up on some much-needed calories. After all, we would be living on fig newtons and pretzels for the next two days.

We made a trip to the Furnace Creek Visitor’s Center at noon to pick up my race number. We met Jay Birmingham, the first man to officially ‘race’ from Badwater to Mount Whitney over 20 years ago. He autographed a copy of his book about his feat, The Longest Hill, for me. I met Chris Kostman, the Race Director, and had my pre-race ‘mug shot’ photo taken. Three hours later my crew and I would return for the pre-race clinic.

Imagine 300 people in a room…for almost two hours…with weak air conditioning…and temperatures outside over 120 degrees. Sound like fun? Sounds like pre-race conditioning, if you ask me. I can’t remember the last time I was that hot (wait—yes I can, it was yesterday!). But you get the picture. We were all familiar with most of the information presented in the clinic—race rules, race history, etc. A short video of last year’s event was shown, focusing on Pam Reed’s historic finish (first female winner of Badwater!). Pam was back to defend her title, and she was assigned to my time group (10:00 a.m., the other two groups starting at 6:00 a.m. and 8:00 a.m.). Pam, deservedly so, was presented with a plaque in honor of her accomplishment. At the end of the clinic, all runners were invited on stage to be introduced to everyone else in the auditorium. It was so hot on stage, my knees started to perspire. Drops of perspiration were literally saturating my shoes. More pre-race conditioning, I assume. 20 painful minutes later, we were free. Unless, of course, you opted to attend the foot clinic. Which we did. Fortunately, Paula felt comfortable that she knew how to take care of my feet should problems arise, but she and Gary attended anyway. Me? I went outside to get Marshall Ulrich’s autograph for a friend of mine. Plus, it was cooler outside than it was in that damn auditorium…

We ate dinner as a crew one last time before tackling the beast. The crew gave me a card wishing me well, with a personalized message from each one of them (particularly Josh’s, which he had signed with the insightful message ‘Your son, Josh’). Early to bed: 9:00 p.m. The game plan was for me to sleep until 6:00 a.m., eat breakfast at 6:30, and then nap a few more hours before we headed to Badwater at 8:55. Great plan.

Tuesday, July 22 bleeding into Wednesday, July 23 (0 days)

Great plan, but terrible execution. I was awake at 1:05 a.m., and absolutely could NOT get back to sleep. I was, however, ready to eat at 6:30 (although it killed me to make another pass through the breakfast bar and only eat 2 pieces of French toast, some eggs, and a few pieces of melon). Such a deal for $8.50. Next on my schedule? A short nap. If ‘short nap’ means lying on the bed staring at the ceiling for 90 minutes, then my ‘nap’ was a success. At 8:55 I was more than ready to go. It was time to get this show on the road, or as one of the support vans had written on both sides, to ‘shut up and run.’ My crew and I boarded the van at precisely 8:55 a.m. and headed over to Badwater, semi-oblivious to what lied ahead. Soon enough I would be totally oblivious to just about everything.

We arrived at the starting area on schedule, just in time for the Race Director to call the runners over to the ‘Badwater sign’ for pre-race photos. We assembled at the starting line around 9:58, listened to the starter’s instructions, stood silently for the National Anthem, and shook off any remaining pre-race jitters. At 10:00, we were on our way to a destination some 135 miles away.

First Checkpoint – Furnace Creek (18 miles)

Pacing was prohibited in this segment, so my crew provided me ‘pit stops’ every mile or two (depending how I felt). At first, the entire crew would tend to me at once (imagine being mugged by five people armed with spray bottles, water bottles, wet towels, a wet shirt, and sun-block—it’s the best description I can offer). Soon enough, they would develop an ‘assembly-line’ rhythm that was much more efficient and effective. I ran with Pam Reed, the defending champion, for…oh, let’s call it four miles…before she pulled away. I was content to run alone, not wanting to expend valuable oxygen by making small talk with any of the other competitors. My sole focus was to move forward…at all costs. I reached Furnace Creek in 3:02, an average ‘pace’ of 10:06 per mile. I changed shorts, shoes and socks, as they were totally soaked with perspiration and water.

Second Checkpoint – Stovepoint Wells (42 miles)

Gary was my first pacer, and he opted to run this entire 24-mile stretch so that he could develop a feel for this event. As we got close to Stovepoint Wells, Gary and I both got to experience what 130 degrees feels like. For weeks leading up to this event we had heard the analogy that the heat ‘feels like putting your head inside a hot oven’ or ‘is like blasting a hair dryer directly in your face.’ Gary and I and the rest of the crew can now say that is exactly what 130 degrees feels like! It was so hot the palms of my hands felt like they were on fire (due to the heat radiating off the road surface). I continually asked Gary to splash water on my hands to cool them off. A crew member for another runner said they put a thermometer on the blacktop road and it read 141 degrees. The soles on Gary’s (brand new!) shoes began to separate, as the heat was melting the glue.

Occasionally a desert wind would blow across the highway. If you’re thinking this served to cool us off you would be mistaken: these desert winds felt like blasts from a roaring fire, and the best thing I can say about them is that they didn’t singe my eyebrows. Even if it felt like they did. We completed our second leg in 6:28, an underwhelming pace of 16:10 per mile. At least we were getting ready to ‘cool off’ by heading up to Townes Pass.

Third Checkpoint – Panamint Springs (72 miles)

OK, so maybe heading up to Towne’s Pass isn’t such a great thing after all. A seemingly endless (18-mile) climb to 5,000 feet. Eric accompanied me for this portion of the course, and the only analogy I can make is that it was similar to walking up flights of stairs for the better part of five hours. Now’s probably not the best time to mention that I detest walking up stairs. I experimented with trekking poles, but it was difficult to say if they were more of a help or a hindrance. Once we reached the summit, I changed (actually, the crew changed) into my running sandals, so that my toes would not ‘bang’ the front of my shoes on the downhills. (I would repeat this for the duration of the event on the downhills) The rest of the crew alternated pacing me once we reached the summit, before Paula took the final stretch right before the checkpoint to allow the other crew members to use our room at Panamint Springs to shower and/or take a quick nap. I mentioned to Paula that I was debating on whether or not I should stop at the room, and finally decided that I did want to take a quick shower and short nap so that I could psychologically divide the remaining 63 miles into a ‘different day’ from that of the first 72 miles. We completed the third leg in 9:04, a robust 18:08 per mile pace.

Intermission

Somewhere around 5:30 a.m. Paula and I entered our room at the Panamint Springs Resort. If ‘resort’ means ‘Norman Bates Motel,’ then, yeah, this was a resort. I took a quick shower (I forgot to remove my watch, so once it got wet it became so fogged that it was of no use for the remainder of the event). I lay down and managed to fall asleep, and the next thing I knew Paula was out of the shower. She lay down on the other bed and said she was going to sleep for ‘5 minutes.’ As we had no alarm clock, I was afraid to fall back asleep for fear that we would not wake up in ‘5 minutes’ and sleep away valuable time. In approximately 90 seconds Paula bounced up and said ‘Let’s go!’ She never fell asleep. I found out later that my sleep consumed a whole 60 seconds. Fortunately, in my mind, I did fall asleep, and I could now mentally ‘divide’ the race into two different days.

Forth Checkpoint – Darwin Turnoff (90 miles)

Eric was called back into active duty, as the next 18 miles were uphill—all of them! There was very little terrain that was even remotely runnable. Eric did a superb job keeping me motivated, focused and hydrated during this period. We even managed to pass a few other runners (climbers?) during this portion of the course. Eric (rightfully so) reprimanded me when I broke one of my race guidelines (‘no wasted motion’) by taking a few steps backward to see a wounded bat on the side of the road. The forth leg took 6:22, an it-could-have-been-worse 21:13 per mile.

It was during this stretch that my crew and I realized just how difficult it could be to consume 300 calories per hour during an ultra event such as Badwater. Up until now, I was taking my Sustained Energy (SE) drink (flavored with Crystal Lite lemonade) for the bulk of my calories, occasionally eating pretzels, jellybeans, or peanut butter to round out my 300 calories per hour. But at this point, I was starting to gag at the thought of drinking any more SE (without the flavoring, it honest-to-God smells and tastes like swampwater). Paula asked me what I would like to eat, and I replied ‘popsicles.’ Al made a quick trip in the extra car to find some. When he returned we were disheartened to find that after eating two popsicles, I had consumed a whopping…30 calories! At that point I began eating small portions: 3 pretzels, 4 jellybeans (‘how many calories now?’), 2 bites of peach jello (‘how many NOW?’). Unfortunately, I had to take ‘a swig’ of SE to round out my 300 calories. Gag.

Fifth Checkpoint – Lone Pine (122 miles)

I don’t know who was looking forward to this 32-mile stretch more: my crew or me. After seeing me walk for the better part of 30 miles over the last 48 miles, they were ready to run (‘run’ in this case meaning ‘get this thing over with’). Paula (our downhill specialist) took the first pacing assignment, and before I knew it we were off at an 8:00 minute pace. I would pick out ‘targets’ from which to run from and to, and would continue this practice over the next 32 miles. With the exception of Eric (who we were ‘saving’ for the final 13-mile climb up Mount Whitney), Paula, Gary, Josh and Al would take turns pacing me for two miles at a clip. This exercise evolved into my first official 32 mile ‘fartlek workout.’ Fortunately, I was on a ‘second wind’ (actually it was more than a ‘second,’ but I lost count) and managed to complete this stretch fairly comfortably in a time of 7:27, a pace of 13:58 per mile. It was during this stretch that Josh got excited and broke a pre-race request of mine (‘don’t tell me how my fellow competitors are doing’) by mentioning I was in 8th place.

Being this late in the race, knowing where I stood wasn’t such a bad thing, as holding my place and finishing in the Top Ten at Badwater was certainly a realistic expectation at this point. An expectation I was fairly comfortable with, until Eric tells me around mile 115 that there’s a runner up ahead, and I should be able to catch him in four or five miles. Josh was my next pacer, and I asked him if he wanted to catch the other runner NOW. He did, and so did I. We sprinted approximately a mile where we caught and passed this runner, one who I had last seen over 100 miles ago. Eric unofficially timed our mile in 8:15, but it felt like a sub-6:00. Gary took the next leg, and Eric mentioned there was yet another runner about a mile ahead who I could catch in four or five miles. Gary and I shuffled along, until we spotted this runner in the distance. As I did with Josh, I asked him if he wanted to catch the other runner now. He did, and so did I. We took off at a 6:00 minute pace (or 8:15 if you believe Eric) and caught him within a mile. Adding insult to injury, we caught him on an uphill. At mile 120. Ouch. (We found out later this particular runner finished an incredible nine hours behind us) Josh took the final two mile stretch into the checkpoint in Lone Pine, where we found out we were now in 6th place.

Paula had prepared some Raman noodles for me, the first food I had in 36 hours that remotely resembled an actual meal. It was heavenly. All five bites.

Sixth Checkpoint – Mount Whitney (135 miles)

As Josh will be quick to tell you, I was absolutely dreading the final 13-mile leg to the portals of Mount Whitney. And rightfully so: after 122 miles of desert and two mountain ranges, making a runner cover these final 13 uphill miles is just plain mean! Eric was once again my pacer, and he did everything in his power to keep me focused, positive, and hydrated. I managed to stay focused, positive, and hydrated—for 7 miles. At that point—6 miles from the finish line—I fell backwards, barely maintaining consciousness. I asked for some more Raman noodles, but Paula had nothing to heat them with except for the radiator of the van. The noodles warmed—slightly—but they were extremely ‘crisp.’ Paula, Gary and Al provided shoulders to (literally) lean on, as there were a few moments I nearly fell off the side of the mountain. Paula was force-feeding me Gatorade, and Gary was continually splashing my head and shoulders with ice cold water. I asked one of them to slap me in the face, but they wouldn’t do it. I guess they thought a slap might knock me totally out, which would put a serious cramp in completing our journey. I continually asked Josh ‘who was behind me,’ thinking that—surely—someone would be passing me in my limited condition. Unfortunately, if someone did make an attempt to pass me at this point, there wasn’t a thing I could do about it. Fortunately, no one did.

The last 2 miles seemed endless, as we wound around the mountain with no end in sight. Cars were passing us in both directions, many shouting words of encouragement as we neared the finish line. At least I think we were nearing the finish line. Occasionally I would find myself walking more side-to-side than forward, a victim of fatigue, exhaustion, and (I’m convinced) oxygen deprivation (we were at altitude, remember?).

Eric drove the van ahead to take his video camera to the finish line officials, hoping they would film us as we ‘triumphantly’ completed our mission. He agreed to meet us at a point one mile from the finish, where the six of us would congregate and run the rest of the race ‘as one.’ When we caught a glimpse of Eric in our headlamps, it was a bittersweet feeling as thankfully, we only had a mile to go, but nonetheless we still had a mile to go!

After what seemed like another hour, we saw the lights at the finish line (it was now just past 10:30 p.m.). The six of us ran (assuming ‘ran’ means ‘shuffled sort of fast’)—with our heads held high—through the finish line banner, officially signifying the successful completion of our journey. Hugs all around! Chris Kostman officially told us that we finished in 6th place and we were the 3rd place male finisher. Not bad for a bunch of Badwater rookies. The sixth leg had taken 4:10 to complete, a 19:14 per mile pace. Not bad when you take into account the last two miles consumed a full hour.

I sat down in the official finisher’s chair—surrounded by my wonderful crew—for some final photographs for the website. I literally looked like death warmed over, but I couldn’t have cared less.

We enjoyed our journey, and we were successful. We couldn’t have asked for anything more.

Thursday, July 24 (+2 days)

My crew—God bless ‘em—join me for a 3-mile run (gotta keep the streak alive!). Afterwards, a little housekeeping on the van followed by an incredible lunch at the pizza parlor across the street from our hotel, the Dow Villa. Josh and I split a large cheese pizza, but we eat less than half of it (Josh because he ate everything on the late-nite menu at the hotel’s diner last night; me because my stomach had apparently shrunk over the past two days). I spend the afternoon limping back and forth across the street to the laundromat the wash some of the dirty clothes Josh and I have generated this week. I met the wife of a Badwater entrant (Art Webb) at the laundromat, and she told me her husband was still on the course. (We passed him on our way back to Las Vegas the next morning; he was at the half-way point of the course) as he was experiencing some difficulties (he did eventually finish, however)

All Badwater participants and crew members were invited to a pizza dinner at a local elementary school that evening. We spent a lot of time talking with Pam Reed about her performance and her training. She said she has to run 3 times a day, as she has to manipulate her running around her demanding schedule as a mother of three. I invited her to our 50K race in November, and she said she’d run (we’ll see!) if I’d return the favor and run her race (the Tucson Marathon) in December.

After dinner, a short video of this year’s race was shown. As my luck would have it, there was a special feature on each of the top five finishers (I finished 6th, remember?). Regardless, it was well made and very inspirational (up to the point that it didn’t convince me to run it again).

Following the video, Chris Kostman hosted the awards ceremony. He asked all runners who failed to complete the course to stand, and they were given a rousing ovation for ‘having the guts to try.’ Very deserved. Then, all finishers were called to the front of the room to receive their finisher’s medal and, for those finishing under 48 hours, the coveted belt-buckle. We posed for photographs—I’ve never been in front of so many flash bulbs before—and then Pam and men’s winner Dean Karnazes were asked to say a few words. Chris closed the evening by referring to us all as part of the ‘Badwater family.’

A pretty nice honor.

Post Script: On Friday, we made the drive back to Las Vegas. Obviously, we ‘retraced our steps’ along the same route we had started 3 days ago in Badwater. If I hadn’t already decided I would never run the race again, this would have done it for me. I realized that yes, the heat was a huge factor in my performance, but the mountains were much more significant. We stopped in Stovepipe Wells for a drink, and the heat—only slightly over 110 degrees today—still felt like we were sticking our heads inside a hot oven.

Friday night, we enjoyed a crew ‘victory dinner’ at the Pink Taco in Las Vegas. Afterwards Paula, Eric, Al and Gary returned to the hotel for some much-needed rest before our 6:00 a.m. flight to Atlanta the following morning. Me? I had promised Josh that if I was still able to walk after the race—and at this time I barely ‘qualified’—I would take him to see the casinos before we returned to Atlanta. The four hours Josh and I spent—at MGM Grand, New York New York, Mandelay Bay, Excalibur, Luxor—I wouldn’t trade for anything. Josh was so impressed with the large casinos, the bright neon lights, and the endless ‘eye candy’ the city has to offer. But for me, walking on two severely blistered feet was a true test of my pain threshold (I’m sure I exceeded it somewhere during the night). We finally got to bed just after midnight, allowing me two hours sleep before I had to get up for one last run with Gary before we all headed to the airport for our long-awaited (and triumphant) return to Atlanta.

And yes, you read the previous sentence correctly.

2003 staffer & 2002 finisher

The Runners’ Report did indeed spend part of last week in and around Lone Pine for the end of the Kiehl’s Badwater Ultramarathon. I had hoped to be there for the whole race, working on the webcast, but that nasty four-letter word, “work”, got in the way. I was, however, able to leave after work on Wednesday and pulled into the parking lot of the Dow Villa at about 8:45 PM.

When I got there, the race was actually over. In fact, beating everyone, including the first wave of runners who started from Badwater at 6 AM Tuesday morning, was winner Pam Reed who had already crossed the finish line at the Whitney Portals at 2:26 PM on Wednesday afternoon. By the time I got there, four of the 73 starters had finished and 6 others had passed through Lone Pine and were on the Portal Road. Among those already on this last stretch to the finish were Louise Cooper and Bill Lockton who both ran phenomenal sub-40 hour times.

But that is not to say that there weren’t many more amazing feats to witness. I worked the Lone Pine aid station on Thursday, through the early morning hours and then again as the final runners passed through. I also helped Greg gather some info for his webcast duties. I’m sure that many of you were anxiously following the progress of the race through the webcast. Greg and the whole staff did an absolutely fantastic job this year. I can honestly say that those working at race headquarters got about the same amount of sleep as the weary runners and crews. Everyone associated with supporting this event were so passionate about their work and should be sincerely thanked for their efforts.

In between these volunteer stints, I got a couple of chances to see Nancy Shura making her way along the course. She looked strong on each occassion, except for a zombie-like stare she wore on the final arduous climb up to the finish. Nancy and her crew (Saundra, Wendy, Michele, Sandy, Mike, Larry, and Heather, with a final assist from Craig) did a fabulous job and she completed the course in 52:35.

One of the things I really enjoy are the first-person accounts of the race written by runners and crew members. I’ll spare you any more of my perceptions under the assumption that we’ll be reading more in the future from the participants. But I will add some miscellaneous notes about what I saw and heard at the race this year:

• Temperatures on Tuesday were said to be absolutely miserable. The “official” weather service report was about 125F but most who were there would swear it was at least 130F.
• A number of well-known Badwater veterans including Mayor Ben Jones, Major Curt Maples and the 2nd person to run from Badwater to Mt Whitney, Jay Birmingham had to drop out. Ben actually “staked-out” twice, leaving the course to try and cool down but eventually had to drop.
• Race organizers provided a valuable service this year by adding several mobile “Medic” units who patrolled the course and provided essential emergency medical services. 40% of their services were provided to crew members, including one person who needed seven IVs. Deb Clum was one of these important medical professionals.
• 46 of 73 starters finished (under 60 hours) and 30 buckled (under 48 hours).
• Women placed 1st, 3rd, 5th and 9th overall (Pam Reed – 28:26, Monica Scholz – 33:41, Tracy Bahr – 35:16, Louise Cooper 39:22).
• Don Lundell came through Lone Pine station (mile 122) at about 10 PM on Wednesday. Just 5 hours earlier, his girlfriend Gillian Robinson had arrived at Panamint Springs, some 50 miles behind. Don finish in 45:10 and Gillian finished in 58:38.
• Lisa Smith-Batchen and Joe DeSena ran the Vermont 100 mile endurance run in around 24 hours on Saturday/Sunday, took a day off, then began Badwater on Tuesday. DeSena completed Badwater in 42 hours and might have run the fastest race split ever from Lone Pine to the finish at the Whitney Portal in 2 hours and 53 minutes. Lisa took a 12 hour rest in the middle of the race and still finished in 52 hours.
• Barb Elia pulled a “Steve Matsuda” becoming the “crooked woman” for much of the last part of the race.
• Dan Marinsik was told in May that he had a brain tumor. Against doctor’s orders and the urgings of his family, he told the doctors to postpone surgery until after the race. He completed his first Badwater attempt in 53:36.
• Dean Karnazes, the 2nd overall finisher and men’s winner, was one of many early finishers to stop by the station at Lone Pine asking about locations of the runners still on the course so they could give them their excess food and drinks. Dean also holds the world record for the 200 mile run.

Miles and miles of congrats to everyone involve in the race this year… especially RD Chris Kostman who took a great event and has somehow managed to improve it every year.