Wasatch 100 Race Report - Sept. 2010

2010 Wasatch 100 Race Report


The Wasatch 100 is a big, bad mountain race. It covers 100 miles, point to point, from Kaysville, Utah to the finish at Midway, Utah. Along the way, it has climbs totaling over 26,000 feet. That’s five miles worth of vertical ascent, and about the same amount of descent. It’s a bruiser! There were things I knew about the race going in. I knew about the first 18 miles of the course, including the section called Chinscraper, which climbs over 4,000 between mile five and mile ten. I knew that there was a lot more climbs after this. But, I decided that I didn’t want to get caught up in too much worrying about this part and that part. So, I decided that I’d just take the rest of the course as it came. I’ve been working on living in the moment more, lately. I’ve adopted the theory of “think like a dog”. My dog doesn’t have regrets about things that happened yesterday. He doesn’t wish he was somewhere else today. He doesn’t have worries about what may or may not happen tomorrow. He lives in the moment.


As usual, I got a pretty lousy night’s sleep before the race. I may have slept for 4 hours. It seemed like I was awake periodically during most of it. No matter. I’ve learned that it’s not that important. Nerves and adrenaline were plenty to keep me going for now. The race starts at 5:00 am. At 4:00, I boarded the bus in downtown Salt Lake for the 40 minute bus ride to the start. Most of the other runners were pretty quiet. A few chatted with their seat mates.


I checked in at the start and said hi to a few runners I knew. I also met Chihping Fu, a California runner who I had come to know through the ultra list, but had never met before. This would be his third running at Wasatch. The countdown started and without much fanfare, about 250 runners set off. I stayed in a very comfortable pace for the the first 4 miles, until the big climb started. I had a long way to go and a fairly long time (36 hours) to get there. My plan was to stay within my training. Busting out a big move on this course could easily lead to a DNF (did not finish). My first goal is always to finish these things. Today, my secondary goal was to break 30 hours, and get the fancier belt buckle. I had a pacing chart for a 29 hour finish.


The first climb came and it was a grunt! I got into a good smooth hiking pace that I could maintain. I had to work on my breathing and controlling my heart rate a few times. As we approached the summit near 10,000 feet, we started to see some snow. Just an inch or so had fallen, but sometimes it made for slippery footing as hundreds of runners had packed it down into a bit of an icy film. At last, the top was in sight and we turned onto a jeep road for the next several miles to Frances Peak aid station. It was positively surreal on top. The clouds and fog were closed in and visibility was only a hundred yards, at times. Just as I reached Frances at mile 18.6, the clouds opened up and the views were amazing! Pretty much the entire course had incredible views. Much of the time, the trail traversed high ridges where one could see both east and west at the same time. Some of the views of Salt Lake City and the Great Salt Lake itself were just unbelievable! I arrived at Frances Peak around 5 hours. This was about an hour behind my 30 hour plan. Oh well! Think like a dog. Stay in the moment.


Next section covers a few miles of jeep road, then turns onto a trail. I call this a trail, but it’s hardly that at all. I’ve seen deer trails that were much better defined. On the climb up to Bountiful B aid station, the trail was crazy. At times, it was so overgrown, you could hardly see the 6” wide dirt path below. It would dead end at a huge, 5 foot wide fallen tree, which we would have to climb over. The climbs were short, but incredibly steep. It was lush in these little canyons, just over grown with low scrub, big conifers and giant aspen. It was beautiful, but tough. I remember my pacer, Bob, telling me to remember this section. He said it would be very difficult, but to remember that the rest of the course was NOT like this. Good thing.

More rolling ups and downs brought me thorough the next aid station and up high to another wonderful, high ridge section. The two sided views were awe inspiring and the trail was smooth and buttery! There was a great section of about 4 miles of this undulating, smooth trail into the Swallow Rocks aid station. Swallow Rocks had good soup and Popsiciles! Yum! I motored out after a 10 minute stop (too long). Big Mountain, at mile 39 was the next aid station. Overall, I had been moving fairly well, not fast but not slow. My energy was good and consistent and my hydration and electrolytes seemed to be working perfectly. So it went into the next aid stop. As I came in, it was like a huge party! People were screaming and ringing cow bells. I even heard a vuvuzela, the loud, annoying plastic horns they blew at the soccer World Cup.

I left Big Mountain anticipating a couple of short climbs and a 5 mile downhill. It wasn’t really going to be that way, though. The two climbs were about as depicted on my elevation chart. But, the downhill seemed to come…and then become another climb, over and over again. It was maddening! At one point, I just needed some help. I had been running mostly alone through the race. I sat down out of the wind, pulled out some food (I think I was bonking from lack of calories) and called my wife. Smart woman that she is, she told me to eat. She asked me what the view looked like. I told her it was amazing. She told me that there were two experienced runners at mile 53 waiting for me. All I had to do was get there and I’d be fine. So, we said goodbye and off I went. Problem was, I didn’t know if I could get my sorry butt to mile 53. I was at mile 42 and Things were pretty rough. I really had no choice but to get to the next aid station, so I kept moving. Even on the downhills, I just couldn’t get a run (or a jog) going. I went through the process of evaluating dropping. I just didn’t think that I could maintain anything better than a brisk walk for any length of time. Hiking in the last 58 miles was not an appealing option. I’ve been in this spot enough to know that it would likely pass. I had to get to the next aid station, anyway. I’d get there and then decide what to do. Finally, Alexander Spring appeared.

I got a bowl of three bean soup (kind of like chili) and ate. My other problem was that it was almost dark. My other light and batteries were 5 miles away. The light I had form the morning had weak batteries. If they gave out part way through, I was screwed. I imagined standing in the dark, and scaring the crap out of some other runner who came along, and asking if I could share their light with them. Instead, I asked if they had any batteries at Alexander Spring. They offered me a flash light that another runner had left there an hour earlier. They said to just leave it at the next stop and send it to lost and found. I was back in the game. I wasn’t sure I wanted to be in the game, but I had no excuse. I picked up some energy from eating and put on a good speed walk. I met up with a couple of other runners and Keith Straw (known as Tutu Man). Keith is known far and wide because he runs virtually all of his races in a pink tutu and pink shirt. He even has a small fairy wand. He has run Badwater in this get up. I have no idea why he does this. But, I do know that everyone seems to get a big smile when they see him and he’s one hell of a runner. He was aiming to finish Wasatch to complete the Grand Slam of ultrarunning, finishing four tough, mountain 100’s within a 14 week period. So, the four of us power walked the 5 miles up and over to Lamb’s Canyon, where I would meet my pacers.

I arrived at Lamb’s sort of wanting to just go home. But, I couldn’t really bring myself to tell these guys who were total strangers to me, that I just wasn’t into it. Like the good pacers and experienced runners they were, they asked me how I was doing. I said I was not doing so well. They immediately sort of dismissed it and got down to diagnostics. Was I drinking? Yes. Eating? Yeah, mostly. Was I peeing? Yes. Okay then, what do you want to eat before we leave? This was a pivotal point in the race for me.

Mark would take me up and over the first climb. I think it was about 2,500 feet of climb and then a big descent to the other side. It was so nice to have some company! Almost immediately, I felt so much better, had so much more energy. We hiked steady up the climb, even passing a couple of others. The trees in the deep canyon were huge. Giant aspens would loom at the edge of my head lamp, then disappear into the night sky. We ran some of the downhill sections, but mostly kept a brisk walk. When we got to the bottom of the trail, we hit the asphalt for three miles of uphill to the next stop. It was COLD in the bottom of that canyon. I later learned that the temperature had dipped to 23 degrees. I was also getting sleepy, from the obvious effects of 19 hours on my feet. I had to stop a few times, just to try to clear the fatigue from my mind. We made it into Millcreek and met up with Bob. After unsuccessfully trying to warm up in the car, we headed up to the check point and sat in front of the heater. A few minutes did the trick. Combined with some food, I was ready to go. I bid farewell to “Jeff”. We had had some great discussions on building and other things. Doh! His name was Mark! Man, was I really that out of it, or just forgetful? I apologized to Mark.

Enter Bob Adler, rock star pacer. Bob was simply amazing. He knew every turn, every climb. At one point, he said “Watch out for holes along this area, there are some marmots and things up here.” I looked down and said, “There’s a hole now”. It was uncanny. I could not have asked for a better pacer to help me through the run. I should mention that I never met Bob before the race. He saw my posting on the race website, looking for a pacer to help with the night hours. He graciously offered to pace me for most of the last half. I have rarely met nicer people in other walks of life. Ultrarunners are really something special!

I was beginning to come to grips with the fact that I may not finish before the cut off time of 36 hours. At my average pace of 20 minute miles, it was a prayer, at best. But I didn’t mention it. I would just ask about the cut offs for Brighton (mile 75). It was 10:00 am. That left 7 hours to cover 25 miles. Simple, yes? Well, no… not at 3 miles per hour.

Bob brought me through the darkness, keeping me eating, keeping me drinking, keeping me up on caffeine. We arrived at Scott’s Pass just as the sun was rising. It was just beautiful! I had some hot chocolate, ate some food and we headed for the long downhill into Brighton. As we jogged, we discussed the pace and what was to come. There was a big climb after Brighton. But, the sun was now up and with it I was getting a nice boost from the second sunrise. They had hot food, specifically potato pancakes (hash browns) at Brighton.

As we came into Brighton, I had resigned myself to the fact that I was probably not going to have time to finish. As I sat there, I watched runners quit. I watched them shuffle off with blankets wrapped around them. The volunteers kept saying that I needed to get out of there. They would say. “See that girl over there. Stay with her. She has left here at 8:30 and finished. She knows how to do it.” I don’t know why, but I shoved the hash browns in, I drank a chocolate milk and told Bob, “I’m leaving. I’ll see you up the trail when you get there.” I think he was startled. My line of discussion had been about not being able to make it. It’s funny how total strangers start telling you things and you just do it. I think I just didn’t want to try to tell these people some lame excuse why I couldn’t do it. I think they would have said something like, “Nonsense. Others have done it. Why can’t you?” They would have been right.

The next 15 miles were just a brutal slog. There were occasional good stretches. I got my running gear back periodically. But, the climbs were killers. Bob would describe them in advance. “This one sucks. I won’t lie to you. Just keep moving and don’t stop. You don’t have to move fast. Just keep moving.” Then, he would say, “We have to run this downhill. Can you do it? Let’s run this next ½ mile.” My energy would come and go. Finally, just before Rock Springs (at around mile 88) I hit a wall, literally. There was a long climb to a small pass we could see in the distance. It just would not end! My energy was through the floor. I would eat a gel, or some food, with almost no effect. Bob finally suggested I take an ibuprofen, which I never do in races. The chance of kidney damage just seems to outweigh any potential benefit it provides. He suggested that one would not be a big deal I agreed, so I took one. It definitely helped, after a few minutes. Combined with eating some more food at Rock Springs, I was coming back around.

I’ll interject here a little fact from the pre-race meeting. The RD said that after 15 years of keeping statistics, they could estimate a runner’s finish time by when they left each aid station. “In fact”, he said, “we can project your finish time plus or minus five minutes, when you leave Brighton.” I later learned that when I left Rock Springs, my projected finish time was 5:43 pm, or 43 minutes after the allotted time. This was not information I needed to know. Happily, I didn’t hear this until later.

Leaving Rock Springs, we started running and walking. Bob said we would be coming to a steep downhill called the Dive. I’d heard about the Dive before. It is a long, very steep downhill. It’s loose, it’s rocky, it’s very hard to run. Bob said, “If you’re going to make it, we need to run this. It’s ugly, but we’ve got to run it” We turned a corner and he pointed above his head, in a downward motion and called out “Dive!” He took off. I followed. It was nuts! It was dusty, so dusty that I often couldn’t see from the dust Bob kicked up. The trail was a rut, about 12” wide and about 10” deep. At the bottom of the rut was 5-6” of fine dust, mixed with rocks, fist sized and smaller. It was controlled falling, absolutely chaotic. But, I ran. I ran fast. I turned my legs over just to stay upright. It felt fantastic! I didn’t run stuff like this this fast in training. Hell, I didn’t even run stuff like this at all. I decided that this was exactly what training was for. I smiled. I hooted. I got angry. I was NOT going to run for 100 miles and miss the deadline to finish. I did NOT come here to DNF. I was going to run like hell! This was the final ‘rising from the dead’ for me.

We came to the next big drop, called the Plunge. It was just the same. It was crazy footing, loose and rocky. We would see some other runners and Bob would say, “Let’s catch them” I would say “Yeah, let’s go. Let’s go!” We passed several other runners on this stretch. They looked startled that we were moving at that speed, especially at the back of the pack. Bob said that we had to have two hours form Pot Bottom (mile 93.4) to make the finish. He said we had 1.5 miles to go to Pot Bottom. We made a plan to get in and out quick and he took off ahead of me to prepare. It was a race. It was a race with the clock. It was all or nothing. Coming in at 36:01 was failure. Coming in under 36 hours was success. I changed my clothes (I’d been wearing tights since the start and it was hot!) and left my pack for Bob to fill with water and gel and started up the last major hill. It was 3:10 pm, less than two hours to go.

Bob caught up and we briskly hiked the hill for 1.7 miles. We passed a few runners, including an older Japanese man and his young pacer. He looked very rough and was moving very slowly. We hit the downhill and I opened it up. We ran. We ran fast! It was a nice open jeep road, although pretty rocky. It reminded me of one of my local training runs that I’d done many times. I probably overestimated it, but I would guess we were running 9-10 pace on this long downhill. I felt like I was just flying. We passed 7-8 runners. Some would turn in disbelief. One asked if we had just started the race. We didn’t have much of a cushion to finish, if any. There was no stopping. There would be no denying a finish!

We entered the final gamble oak section. We saw some people at an intersection that said “One mile”. To which Bob replied, “No, one mile to the road. Then, one more mile of pavement.” Holy crap, it was close! No letting up. We continued to run, although not quite as fast. We hit the road. We made the last mile. We turned the corner down the grass for the last 100 yards to the finish. I turned to Bob and said, “Let’s run it in fast.” I picked it up and crossed the line. 35 hours and 46 minutes! Bob had dropped off to the side, I suppose to let me take in the ‘glory’ for myself. In retrospect, I would have insisted that he cross with me. My ability to finish was in no small part due to his efforts. There was NO way that I would have made it without his course knowledge, prodding and good company. I owe a huge debt of gratitude to both Mark and Bob for their help in getting me to the finish.

We joked along the way that if I was going to be so close to the cut off, I should really try to be DFL (dead f*#@ing last). I missed that honor by three places. The honor of last place went to the Japanese man, who we had passed at mile 95. I don’t know how he pulled it together. We had passed several people in that last 6 miles, and he was the one I thought least likely to finish. He proved me wrong. He crossed the line with less than 90 seconds to spare, and to a huge round of applause. He is 64 years old.

People often ask why I run 100 mile races, or even longer. I think that the best answer I’ve come up with is that I do it for the adventure. Everyone loves a good adventure story, a good adventure movie. A good adventure story is one in which you never know how it will end. Running tough 100 mile runs, such as this, is the closest I’ve come to living one of these great adventure stories. I plan, I scheme, I think about what it will be like. I reach huge highs, I bottom out in the lowest of lows. I learn all kinds of life lessons that are sometimes hard to come by.

Occasionally stripping away all of the trappings of everyday life shows me who I really am. To quote (paraphrase) Ephraim Romesberg, a fellow ultrarunner, “You start with all these lofty goals…Then, you get to the point, where I am now, when the best you can hope for is to not throw up on your own shoes.” To pull yourself out of a spot like that, and turn it around to make some sort of success out of it is a pretty rewarding experience. This makes it a lot easier to deal with most of the small annoyances of daily life and gives me the knowledge that I can handle the big stuff.

Badwater 2010


The Experience

Wow. I don’t know where to start. Running Badwater was the most amazing outdoor experience of my life. I’ve run rivers, I skied big mountains, I’ve snowboarded big peaks in Alaska. It all pales in comparison. I’ve always lived by the motto “collect experiences, not things”. This is truly one of the best experiences of my life. Suffice it to say that when this story is written, it will probably not sufficiently convey the overwhelming joy, satisfaction and emotion that I experienced out there.

My crew was fantastic. They were always on top of the situation. They knew when to keep me in the know, and when to not tell me what I didn’t need to know. Apparently, the van would not start at one point. I’m very glad that I was never informed of it until the finish. My crew consisted of five people, then later six!

Crew Chief was my good friend Scooter Jones. He was, as always, an incredibly giving source of inspiration. He is also a massage therapist, and former Paramedic/ EMT. The medical side wasn’t necessary. But, the CMT skills were invaluable to stay loosened up. He is a always a ray of sunshine and a source of amazing positive energy.

Other crew members include Mandy Miller, who I had only met briefly at Rocky Raccoon, in February and have known through email conversations. Mandy was a great pacer. She seemed to know just when to keep me going in conversation and when to just let me keep moving quietly. She lit a great fire under me, encouraging me to catch the “Pinklings” (Team Moeben).

Brian Harvey was a crew member who I had never met before the race. Brain turned out to be one of my favorite people of the whole experience. He is amazingly positive and motivating. I felt like it was the start of a new race, whenever he came out to pace. He would pump me up, telling me how well I had done the previous section and what I should be shooting for over the next section.

Heath Johnson and Stephanie Day came to the crew as a couple. I have known Stephanie for a few years, as we have run into each other at several races and spent several hours running together and talking. She would regale me with stories for long periods of time and keep it light with a great sense of humor. Heath was great, too. He was great as a pacer and always on the ball, handing off supplies. Heath is also a great source of levity, cracking jokes all the time.

My final crew member was my wife, Paige. Her duty was to man the home front, with my daughter. As you will see later, there was a small problem with this plan. Suffice it to say that she put up with a lot. My mind was often in the desert and not always focused for the weeks leading up to the race. She was very patient with me.




The Race

The race events began the day before. We had attended the race meeting. It was sweltering hot in the auditorium. The AC was on. But, in a matter of minutes, the 500 people in there had simply overwhelmed it. After an hour, I went outside to use the bathroom. The 120 outside temps felt absolutely cooling after the stifling heat and humidity inside. We had a crew meeting. Really, we had a crew meeting all day. Everyone really wanted to do the best they possibly could to help me. It was fantastic. But, after an entire day of questions, I was mentally fried. We had dinner at the restaurant and then retired to our rooms. By 9:30, I was in bed fast asleep. Sadly, I woke up at 11:20 pm. I laid there for the rest of the night, thinking about how badly I really needed a good night’s sleep. It never came. It was not an ideal way to start a race that would likely last for two days.

At 7:30 am, we rolled to the start line at Badwater. It was electric. Everybody was pumped up, crews, runners, race officials. We snapped a group picture at the Badwater sign and a young woman sang the National Anthem, amazingly well, I might add. At 8:00, we were off! I started very slowly at a jog. I mixed in some walking every 5-10 minutes. This was going to be a very long race and I had no business going out like a shot. My main strategy was to keep as cool as possible and keep myself healthy and hydrated. I planned to be at Furnace Creek (mile 17) around 3:30-4:00 hours. I made it in exactly four hours. Next up, the Highway To Hell, 25 miles to Stovepipe Wells, in the hottest part of the day. The temp at Furnace Creek was near 118. It was noon.

The next section is where I began with my pacers. One of the crew would come out and run with me for a few miles, then switch off with another. Our basic plan was for me to drink a 20 oz. bottle of water (heavily iced) every mile. This equated to about every 15 minutes. I was taking an S!cap (electrolyte capsule) every 30 minutes. When I was weighed, I was always within 1-1.5 pounds of my starting weight. This indicated that hydration and electrolytes were perfectly balanced. As the heat really started to bake, my crew would place an ice bandana around my neck, sometimes a fresh one every mile. The other thing that helped to keep cool was misting with a sprayer. But, the really big thing was to drape a wet scarf around my head. I was given a large piece of wicking fabric at racer check-in, by the girls at Moeben. It was about 18” wide and 6 feet long. The crew would stick it in a bag of ice water, then wring it out and drape it around my head and shoulders. It made HUGE difference in how cool I felt. The temperature definitely topped 120 on the first day. One person from another crew said he saw 131 degrees. I don’t have any verification. But, it was damn hot!

All went well until around the sand dunes at mile 36. I had turned the corner and the wind was now coming from the side and in front. I suddenly started feeling very over heated. I spent a few minutes (maybe more like 20?) sitting down in the shade of the van and trying to cool down. It took a few stops over the miles, but I managed to get comfortable again. I made it to Stovepipe Wells (mile 42) around 11:30 into the race. That was about an hour slower than I had hoped. And I think I lost that whole hour from mile 36 on. On arriving, I changed into my swim trunks and jumped in the pool. Sweet relief!

When we left Stovepipe eating an ice cream sandwich. It was after 8:00 pm, 12 hours into the race and the sun had set. It was 112 degrees and the wind was head on at about 20 miles per hour. It was brutally drying. I had to constantly shoot small amounts of water in my mouth and down my throat, just to keep it moist. Ahead lay 17 miles of climbing to the top of Townes Pass. I was not running, but walking this section. I was apparently walking well, as I passed about 10-12 runners during the climb. It took seven hours to cover that 17 miles. Uggh! How can such a seemingly brisk walking pace be so slow? I reached the top of the pass and sat for a few minutes and tried to sleep, to no avail. I had also tried at mile 47 also, but sleep would not come. How could I be on two hours of sleep in the last 40 hours and not sleep?

Next up, 13 miles across the Panamint Valley to Panamint Springs at mile 72. The first 9 miles were all downhill. Brian and I started running down. It was wonderful for a few miles. Then, the grade got so steep it was difficult to run without having to brake every step. I didn’t want to push my legs so hard, so early in the race. So, we kept a quick walk. At times, it was so steep, it even was difficult to walk without really working the quads. By 7:23 am, we had reached Panamint Springs. I sat in a chair and had some food, while the crews changed shift. 23 hours to cover 72 miles was an absolutely pathetic pace. But, physically I was in good shape. No aches, a few pains, but generally good. I think that a severe lack of sleep was probably what led to my very slow pace.

Stephanie came with me to start the climb up to Father Crowley point. The initial climb is about 8 miles, gaining over 4,000 feet of elevation. The climb was steep, but the views back down the course were spectacular! We again passed a few runners. This was Stephanie’s hill. She would not give up pacing duties until I reached the top of the major climb. We moved well, at a brisk walk. The road was very narrow, with almost no shoulder. There were a few tense moments, as huge tour buses would come around a blind corner. With a guard rail on one side, there was no where else to go. Things went well and the day heated up again. Around mile 82, I had a serious case of heat and sleep deprivation hit me. I came to the van, sort of semi-babbling. “I need shade. Is the van cool? Is there a breeze in there? I need ice! I’m really tired” Scooter put my calves on ice and I laid down in the van, with my legs elevated. I tried again to sleep. After 15 minutes, I heard Scooter snoring. Damn, why can he sleep and not me? I sat up and ate an orange and drank a big bottle of ice water. I was good. It was time to go. I went for another couple of hours to the mile 90 check point, arriving at 2:14 pm.

The next section was downhill, for 32 miles. It was time to get some good running in. Rock star Brian came out to pace a good portion of this section. We started moving well, again. He afternoon was hot, but very tolerable compared to the heat of the valley the day before. I would guess it was around 105-110. Occasional clouds really helped. Between Brian’s coaxing and Mandy being determined to catch the Pinklings (Team Moeben), I made some reasonably good time over the next 10 miles. Then came the shocker of the trip. I looked up as I approached the van around mile 105. My mind couldn’t connect the dots. There was someone who REALLY looked like my wife. But no, Paige was at home. Wait, that’s the shirt that my wife always wears. No, it must be some other runner wearing a shirt form that race. NO…no. That’s Paige! My wife was there, running across the road to me! What an amazing surprise! She had been planning it for a few weeks. She took a flight to LA, rented a car and drove up to meet me and the crew. I was buzzing for the next 10 miles! She took turns with the others running with me, as we headed toward Lone Pine at mile 122.

The early evening was great. I was really enjoying talking with all of the crew, as they came out and took turns running and walking with me. I probably got complacent and just kept walking much of the time, when I could have been running. But, I was just having such a good time! Scooter came out with me for the last two miles into Lone Pine. Scooter is not a runner. But, it sure was nice to be out with him. During the entire race, he never once left the van, faithful and dedicated Crew Chief that he was. He also provided excellent quick tune ups with massage, whenever my legs would tighten up. We cruised into Lone Pine , arriving at around 1:30 am. A chair, a chicken sandwich, a Coke and a little foot massage. Ahhhhh!

So, here we sit in Lone Pine. It’s 1:30 am, I’ve got a brutal 13 mile climb to go, covering around 5,000 feet of climb. I’ve got 6 ½ hours to get under 48 hours and get a buckle. I vow that the RD will NOT put my buckle in a box for next year. Off we go! As we leave town, I see a runner ahead. He is listing badly to one side. I’ve seen it before. The body just gets out of alignment and they tilt to one side. It was Art Webb. This will be Art’s 13th finish at Badwater. I believe he is in his late 60’s. The man is made of steel! I decide that we will pass him. Time to pick up a couple of places. We go by, and I wish him well and congratulate him. The problem is, he doesn’t know that I’m feeling better than him and that he should be behind me. In a few miles, he’s ahead again and stays there. Geez, these old guys are tough! He pretty much kicked my butt on that ill, lean and all.

That hill was brutal! Just when I thought we were through the toughest part of the climb, we hit the switch backs. They were even steeper. There were times when each step was like lifting up to climb a stair. I hit the 131 mile mark, as I pased Dan Marinsik. Dan is a multiple finisher at Badwater. He was having a rough go, but was not stopping. I may have been moving slow, but I was in some great company. I was feeling very humbled and honored to be climbing to the finish with the likes of these two.

The final miles, the sun was starting to rise behind the mountains to the east, behind the mountains I had just run across. Three huge valleys separated me from the start. This was my third sunrise since the race had begun. It had been long, but it had been an unbelievable adventure. There was some confusion with the mileage near the end. At one point, it was 1.5 miles to go. Yes! Then, it was two miles to go. WTF?! My wife tried to tell me, “It’s really just…” I cut her off. “Nobody tell me how far anything is. I don’t want to know. I’m just going.” I was fried. Mentally, I was just incapable of anything but going forward. I was literally on the verge of tears for the last mile or two. All I could do was to bite my lip and move. Just move, damn it! The mountain was incredible. The huge granite slabs were towering over us. I noticed. I tried to appreciate. But, I had to focus forward. Finally, the finish was there! I made sure that my crew was there with me. But, at the last minute, I surged forward ahead of them. I really wanted to cross simultaneously. I could never have gotten there without all the help of everyone who was there with me. But, I just couldn’t take it. I had to be done!

I crossed the line and practically collapsed on my wife’s shoulder. I was wasted. I could not hold back. I sobbed on her shoulder out of relief, out of gratefulness, out of a sense that it was over. Although it was a long standing dream for many years, it was a huge relief to be done, to not have to think about the race, water, time, anymore. We gathered everyone together for the obligatory photos. I got a big, shiny belt buckle. I embraced each of my crew and thanked them as best I could, trying hard not to burst into tears. Again.



The Aftermath

Once again, I have to give so many thanks to my crew: Scooter Jones, Brian Harvey, Mandy Miller, Heath Johnson, Stephanie Day and my fantastic wife, Paige. People overuse the phrase ‘couldn’t have done it without you’. But, in this case, it is completely true. I am so humbled that these people would come out to this desolate, unbelievably hot, forbidding place and give several days of their time, and spend their own money traveling there, to help someone who was, to most, a stranger. I am eternally grateful to all of them.

Several days have passed now. I am still just overwhelmed with what a fantastic, unbelievable, almost surreal experience it was. Scooter described it as being “one long National Geographic moment.” I would have to agree. I simply can not find adequate words to describe what an amazing, fulfilling experience it was to run Badwater. I’ve always lived by the motto, “collect experiences, not things”. This was, by far, one of the best experiences of my life.