I have been to the Valley of Death! And I have made it back home safely as well. My feet are swollen and blistered, but my body feels good. I experienced no hallucinations or enlightenment, but I did meet some wonderful people and see some very extreme and beautiful country. I did not know if I could run this thing, the Badwater 135. I could count on my determination and do have some experience at long distance, but I did not know if my body could take the heat. This was a test my body had never faced before. I am a trail person and avoid roads whenever possible. I love the mountain trails and very rough terrain and usually do poorly on flat surfaces. My body and soul crave cooler climates and I usually struggle badly in heat & humidity. So why would I run a 135 mile road race that is relatively flat and at the most extreme heat. I just wanted to know! Could I do it? I was not scared of this race, but I had no confidence that I could do it.

My crew was the best. There where none better, and that comment came from many of the veterans here. Rich Benyo wrote the book 'Death Valley 300'. Yes, he ran over and back. His wife Rhonda had also done the Double. Rich's brother Drew had also successfully run the distance as well. Joyce has worked as my crew and pacer for more than a dozen 100 milers and nobody knows my peculiarities better. What I liked, disliked, ate, drank, when, why, and why not. We had two vehicles, Rich's truck, and our rent car. The truck would never be more than a mile from me at any time during the entire run. The car was used to run for ice, food, drinks, and transport the shift changes to hotels for sleep and rest. The race is from Tuesday to Thursday, I assume for less traffic than a weekend. After all, this is a road race in a National Park. We arrive in Furnace Creek on Sunday, having just missed a very rare desert storm. The locals where all abuzz about it, but now the humidity is at a rare 20% while the temps climb to 120+. Within minutes of exiting our car, we're sweating profusely. Rich, Drew, & Rhonda arrive after 9pm. Monday morning, we talk logistics and operating plans for the crews, including foods, drinks, clothes, shoes, and so on. I check in at noon and then the pre-race briefing at 3pm. The starting field is down to 73. We'll start in 3 waves at 6am, 8am, and 10am. The runners are seeded such that the slowest start first. I'm in the 8am start due to my 50 hour guesstimate.

Race morning, we drive 18 miles south, passing the 6am starters. Badwater Basin, a pool of saltwater at -282 ft sits just under a rock face leading strait up to 5475 ft Dante's View. We do the perfunctory media shots and then line up on the road. I start with a long white coolmax shirt that covers my hands and a hooded hat with wrap around cover for my neck and face. Shorts for now and my new white Nike's. At 8am, we remain in the mountain's shadow for the first couple of miles. The exit from shadow to sunlight is startling. Now is when the real work begins. The air temp quickly climbs towards 130 and the wind coming off the fresh new black asphalt is burning my skin. The temperature just inches off the asphalt is much hotter, reaching upwards towards 190 degrees. I attempt to run off the shoulder but it is more work than I care for and soon remain on the road. The expected low humidity has been jacked up and remains much higher than normal. My first planned stop is back at Furnace Creek, 18 miles from Badwater, and I arrive after noon, badly overheated. The team has laid out a little oasis for me under the shade of some date palms, right next to some water. I strip down to shorts and lay on a cot, where they wash me down with iced down rags. I drink some Gatorade and try to eat a hamburger, but mostly I just lay there and relax. The girls check and repair my feet's hot spots, left overs from last week's Hardrock. I spend an hour, but leave refreshed, wearing the long white desert pants to protect my legs from the heat.

My next planned stop is Stovepipe Wells at 42 miles. Very little of this first 42 miles is flat, but it also never rises above sea level. Very long and gentle rises and descents over long alluvial fans. As the sun drops below the mountain's horizon, the climate is wonderful for an hour. The sky fills with pastel colors as the temps decrease to something more tolerable and my pace picks back up. But soon after dark, things change quickly! The wind becomes very hard, hot, and miserable with sand. The sand spirits reach across the road diagonally as the ghosts fly in large groups, each chasing the other quickly. I secure the face and neck shield against my face with only my eyes bare to the elements. The wind pushes and shoves me about until I'm exhausted by the time I arrive in Stovepipe Wells at 10:30pm. I had reserved a room here for my crew to sleep, but now decide to get some sleep also. The entire team is now in the room getting some much needed sleep. I sleep for an hour and start again at midnight. I don't want to waste any more of the cooler night air and the wind has mercifully died.

Panamint Springs is next at 72 miles and 2000 ft, but I have to climb 5000 ft Towns Pass first. 18 miles of steady uphill followed by 10 miles of very steep descent. The last 4 miles are across Panamint lake bed. The uphill is slow but steady, and the sun rises on me before I summit. Sunrise at 5000 ft is much more pleasant than it is at -200 ft. The downhill is as fast as I can go from top to bottom. It's a hoot and I love every second as I buzz a few amazed people who had already passed me off as dead. The wide open salt flats at the base are nasty hot and dry. I melt down quickly as the F14 fighter jets buzz overhead. I drag my butt the last ugly 4 miles into Panamint Springs at noon of the second day. Rich begs a swamp-cooled room off a friend, where he puts me down for an hour to soak. The idea is to cool me down while I rest and make ready for the next long climb. Then the girls work on my feet again and send me hobbling off.

My crew is worried about my progress and know that I need to pick up my pace to make the 60 hour cutoff. I'm only half way with half the time gone. If I go any slower I'm done. If I stay the same, then I'm on the edge. I have to go faster to create some sort of comfort zone. I'm now on the back of the pack. As I came into town before my last nap, I was told that only 9 people where behind me. Odds are good that most of them are now ahead of me. I have another 4000 ft climb to Father Crowly Point where we plateau out and then gently climb a bit more to 5000 ft at Darwin. Then it begins to gently roll downhill for many miles. Invigorated from the rest, I climb quickly. Cloud cover also helps tremendously and hangs on for most of the day. Dark clouds yield spots of showers here and there until I finally get lucky and attract one to pour on me for hour. It is the one and only time I run past the truck and need nothing at all. The shower soaks me and my clothing, so after it quits, I stop to change my shirt and socks. My shorts and shoes dry quickly. As I run past a field full of Joshua Trees, the sun slowly sinks until it is dark once again. 90 miles done at Darwin by 9:15pm, but I keep on going.

I'm running well as the rolling hills continue downhill. That's when my feet really start to hurt. A little at first and then more and more until I slow to a hobble. After a spot of foot repair and some really good pain killers, my pace picks back up again. Down endlessly it seems as the road goes on forever. In the darkness, all we can see are the occasional scorpion and the bats that buzz our heads. We pass Keeler which is 12 miles from Lone Pine and enter the Owens Lake bed area. It reeks of sulfur. With the thought of the sun rising on me again in another flat salt bottom, I start running much harder and push it on into Lone Pine very hard. The Inyo Mountains allow us the sunlight but keep the sun off our backs until we enter the town of Lone Pine. The sun finally rises above the mountain's horizon just as we see our hotel. I'd reserved rooms for last night and tonight, so we already have the keys. We decide to get me some rest before the final push up to Whitney Portal. I'm pretty well drained, so, I lay down yet again for another hour of sleep at 7:30am. After an hour, the girls once again cut and patch my feet, then send me on my way. I pass the Lone Pine checkpoint at 9:15am.

It's 13 miles to the finish and now I know I have plenty of time to finish. The hike uphill through the Alabama Hills is phenomenal with all the unusual shapes, reaching the base of the switchbacks with jokes and laughter. It's now my 3rd day, but I feel great. My feet are so numb I no longer feel any discomfort. We fairly charge the uphill, slowly pick up speed and stopping only to slug down a coke while they refill my water bottle. As the switchbacks get steeper, everyone else gets slower. I start passing people for the first time as we surge on up. Joyce has been with me for the last 50 miles and the smile stays on her face now, even when she starts crying as we approach the final checkpoint at the finish at 1:15pm.

135 miles in 53:15. I can finally sit down. The crew was the best! The weather was the worst! I loved it all and I will never come back to run this again.