My Racing Background

Running a 100 mile race is something that had captivated my imagination ever since I found out they existed.  Something about the adventure and near impossibility of the idea intrigued me.  I fortunately (or unfortunately, however you want to look at it :)) am not scared off by these types of ideas, seeing that if other humans can do it, then I thought surely I can with some patience and time.

Sometime in the fall of 2009, only a few months after I had started running, I came across Anton Krupicka’s blog, Riding the Wind (which has since moved here). I was blown away at the level of mileage and types of runs he was doing.  These included 100 mile trail races, particularly his two wins at the Leadville 100 in 2006 and 2007.  Fast forward a year later and I did my first trail ultra marathon at the Cle Elum Ridge 50k in Washington state.  After that race I was hooked on trail running in general and ultra marathons specifically.

In the next 2 years, among 10-11 different trail races, I completed my first 50 miler at White River and ran the Speedgoat 50k.  As I struggled along trying to figure out the sport in addition to keeping up with my ambitious goals, I had much help from Yassine Diboun who coached me in 2011 and Joe Grant, who was my coach in 2012.  These two guys, while not only leading inspiring lives and racing all over the world, gave and continued to give sage advice on all aspects of mountain and trail running as well as in life.  I had originally planned to run my first 100 miler at the Bear 100 in September of 2013, but with a quickly growing family (2 adopted boys and 1 biological girl of now 5, 3 and 3) I didn’t feel confident enough or rested enough from a busy summer and lower volume training.  My running was still going well, with a 25th place at Pike’s Peak Marathon to show for it, but a little under 5 hours of running at Pike’s Peak did not necessarily indicate adequate fitness for 100 miles.

For 2014, I started things more aggressively than previous years, with longer races on the schedule earlier in the year.  Despite some setbacks in January with our then 2 year old girl being hospitalized for a week, I won my first trail race at the Wilson Creek 20 miler in Jan, ran the Moab Red Hot 55k (which went pretty rough) in Feb, ran a 45 mile winter race in Alaska in early March with a training focused 50k at the end of March,  and Zane grey 50 mile (shortened to 33 mi due to extremely cold and wet weather for that area) in April.  Although I was hoping for a full, tough 50 mile effort at Zane Grey to give me that confidence boost I needed for Bighorn on June 20th, training had gone well and I was healthy so it was time to take the leap.

Bighorn 100

The pre-race process for a 100 mile race is significantly more involved than that required for any other distance I’ve done.  There are medical check-ins, multiple drop bag locations to plan out (unless you have a crew to follow you all day and night, which I did not except for the turnaround aid, mile 48, and Dry Fork aid, miles 12 and 82), more extensive pre-race meetings and Bighorn included an extra 0.75 mile walk to get to the start area from where we could park.  It can be hard to keep yourself from getting too engrossed into the planning and check-in process which can easily rob energy from the limited stores of what you need for the race.

Pre-Race meeting –  photo credit Aaron Harrell

Pre-Race Family pic with Dad (Loren) and Mom (Sue) – photo credit Aaron Harrell

Waiting for start –  photo credit Loren Henry

The forecast called for hot weather during the afternoon hours with potential for cold and thunder showers in the evening.  It felt pretty hot (I think ended up being mid 80’s which for June feels hot) heading up the nearly 4000ft climb out of Tongue River Canyon during the first 7 miles of the race, but I stayed hydrated using a Simple Hydration bottle and Hydrapack 500 ml softflask with inov-8 Race Ultra .25 handheld (that I kept collapsed until I filled it at the second aid station, knowing it was going to be a longer section the next one).  I also started getting my hair and body wet in any streams I could find after the first couple of hours.

About 5-6 miles in I hit my first and really only snafu during the race.  People always advise to expect the unexpected during 100 miles so I was prepared to deal with something during the day, but did not think it would be this early on.  I nearly always train and race without socks and had started the race in inov-8 Trailroc 245s. I’ve done 50 milers sockless in them and yet at mile 5 I started to feel a little bit of friction on the heel when going up steep sections. I tried to readjust a couple of times to get it to resolve with no luck and so made do by keeping the laces very loose until I could get to the mile 12 aid station (Dry Fork) and my first drop bag which had some socks and another pair of shoes.  In retrospect I think the issue was that I tied the shoes intentionally a little too loose to start to prevent them from getting them too tight on the tendons on the top of my foot. The result was too much heel slippage which, combined with the heat, caused some friction.  Anyway, I rolled with it, changed into my Nike Kigers (review here) with some thin socks, put a shirt and hat on (it was already feeling quite hot and I was concerned I might be too exposed in the next 18 miles till the next aid) and resumed down the rolling 4000+ feet of descent required to get to the Footbridge aid station at mile 30.

I vowed to keep things easy and take care of myself with regular water and gel intake and save my downhill legs for the second half of the race.  I ended up passing quite a few folks on this section and eventually caught a train of about 4-5 guys that I could have passed, but decided to just cool it and ride on in with them for the last 3 miles to Footbridge. Despite feeling really good at this point, I knew there were plenty of miles yet to come (this decision likely saved my race!).

Coming into Dry Fork (shirtless) and heading out geared up for some more heat – photo credit Aaron Harrell

Early Carnage at Footbridge Aid

I wish I could have taken a picture when I rolled into the Footbridge aid station, but it looked like a triage station on a battlefield. Gear was strung everywhere and many runners looked quite awful which surprised me this early in the race. I made another shoe change into inov-8 X-Talon 212s (rightly anticipating more mud and less smooth trails for the next 32 miles) and switched my hydration to the inov-8 Race Ultra vest to simplify my bottle carrying scenario and to be able to carry some extra clothing as we were heading up to 9000ft and by the time I got there it would be dark. In the 8-10 min it took to change my gear I witnessed at least 3 people telling the aid station officials that they would not be continuing due to either heat/dehydration or bad feet and shot legs; quite early to be out of commission in a 100 mile race!

I left the aid station with just the vest on (no shirt) as it was now 6:00 pm or so, yet it was still hot out.  The climb up the Little Bighorn River drainage was spectacular, with beautiful views all the way up.  I took it easy and even listened to music for an hour or so during this section (something I rarely do, but brought on this race since I would be out there for so long).  I was nearly 4 miles from the turn around point (mile 48) at the Jaws Trailhead and it started to rain with lightning.   It went from an idyllic alpine stroll to an, “Oh crap, I’m cold and on an open exposed ridge during a lightning storm at 900o ft!” moment.  I put on all the extra clothes I had with me (essentially just gloves and inov-8 Stormshell 150 waterproof jacket) and ran a little quicker to the aid station where I found my mom and friend, Aaron, who were ready to crew and pace me at 11:00 pm in the dark and stormy night.  It is such a nice feeling to be exposed like that and then come upon an aid station and see those you know waiting to care for you.

Pic of mom helping me get food while I changed – photo credit Aaron Harrell

Into the Night

Thankfully, I didn’t think much about heading back out into the middle of the night to run back down a 5000ft muddy descent to the Footbridge aid station.  I was just glad to have my pacer, Aaron, with me and we took off.  In a fun way, it felt like I was giving him a tour of the trail I had just come up on the way out, except, since it was dark so I had to describe to him what he would have seen had it been light.  The time passed quickly and we made really good time down this 18 mile section, passing many folks along the way.  I had the Petzl Ultra Rush headlamp and, at least for 100 milers, I feel like it is nearly indispensable despite its very expensive price tag ($400!). It puts out an extremely large and bright light that enabled me to run comfortably downhill in the dark and mud the whole way. We got into Footbridge and changed clothes back into shorts and T-shirts (from my 3/4 tights and long sleeve, which in hindsight, I probably should have not changed into at the turnaround).  I changed out of my X-Talons and into some dry Pearl Izumi Trail N1’s (the only dry pair of shoes I had left at this aid station, otherwise I didn’t feel I needed the PI’s) and headed out after a sausage patty, coffee and some peanut M&M’s at 5:00 am.

Heading out from Footbridge aid at daybreak – photo credit Aaron Harrell

Pacer, Aaron, very serious about his job – photo credit Aaron Harrell

Sunrise climbing out of the Little Bighorn River drainage – photo credit Aaron Harrell

The Grind

The long 18 mile mostly uphill section from Footbridge (mile 66) back to Dry Fork aid (mile 82) was where the race started to feel like something new and different in some ways (I’d never gone further than 54 miles in one go before), but in many ways, it was very much the same.  Move forward, take an energy gel when I felt I could stomach one, drink, repeat.  Slowly, I made it to Cow Camp Aid (mile 76) and sat down for some food (bacon!) and Coke, while also eating another gel (I would eat over 50(!) gels over the course of the race). This process continued till I slowly picked away a the the remaining long extended uphill to Dry Fork where both my parents where waiting to encourage me on the last 18 miles.

Cow Camp Bacon and Coke for brunch – photo credit Aaron Harrell

Coming into Dry Fork (mile 82) – photo credit Loren Henry

The Weight of it All

As soon as I came into Dry Fork, I saw my parents and knew, because I wasn’t having any serious physical issues (aside from a small blister on my pinky toe), that I was going to finish the race.  The weight of the remaining 18 miles really came down all at once and I broke down emotionally.  I think for most of the race, I was just thinking of getting to the next aid station and did not really mentally project myself out that far ahead.  I could wrap my mind well around 18 miles and, being that I had already come up 12 of those 18 the day before, I knew exactly what lay ahead and the weight of it fell pretty hard.  My Mom was all geared up to pace me those final 18 miles of the race and I knew there was nothing left to do but get going so I returned mentally to the task of just moving forward to the next aid station, drinking, eating and taking care of myself in the now mid-day heat (again, returning to getting wet in any stream crossings).

Trying to figure out how socks work ;) and fixing blister issues with one last shoe change – photo credit Loren Henry

The weight of the remaining 18 miles was hitting me pretty hard but my Mom continued encouraging me – photo credit Loren Henry

The End of the Road

After running down the final 8 mile 4000ft descent (so grateful I was still able to run the flats and downhills at this point) I came out of the Tongue River Canyon Trailhead and onto the final 5 miles of gravel road to the town of Dayton, Wyoming where the finish would be in the park.  While I can’t say the road was easy and it seemingly took forever to cover the 5 miles, I ran most of the way and tried to savor what I could of the final miles of such a long adventure.

I was truly thankful and had so much gratitude that my body was heathy enough and my family (wife and 3 kids were at home) supportive enough to allow me to take on the task of running 100 miles in the Bighorn Mountains.  It was also encouraging to see all the runners who ran the 30k (which started at Dry Fork and ran to the finish, 18 miles down the mountain) on the road, each pushing themselves to the end of a long run.

Pic #13 Running on the road with the 30k runners; photo credit Loren Henry

Head down (so I couldn’t see how far the road stretched out ahead of me ;) ) and my Mom encouraging along the way; photo credit Loren Henry

Finish! photo credit Aaron Harrell

Cleaning off in the river  photo credit Loren Henry

Wiped out just over an hour after finishing – photo credit Loren Henty

Take Away Nearly Two Months Later

It was interesting to me that the event felt less substantial to my memory the week or two after, but as time when on, I was able to realize and grasp more of what the effort took from me and understand the magnitude of it better.  The physical recovery process went pretty well with no injuries or issues, but it took at least 4-5 weeks to get back energy levels and feel good running over 2 hours in length again.  Nearly two months out now, I’m already looking forward to planning another 100 for next year.  With Bighorn, I qualified for both the Western States 100 and Hardrock 100 lotteries, so will put in for those.  Both races are notoriously hard to get into, so it is not likely that I will get in to either so the plan is probably to head over to Japan in April (my brother and his family will be living there for this next year for his work so will be a chance to visit them as well) and run the Ultra Trail Mt. Fuji, a 105 mile circumnavigation of Mt. Fuji with everything from road running to technical mountain running and a cumulative elevation gain of around 30,000 ft (!).  All said, I’m incredibly grateful to have had the chance to run a 100 mile trail race and, although the effort and preparation can be daunting, the journey was well worth it.

Finisher Belt Buckle – photo credit Loren Henry

John and Nate were planning to run over 100 miles in their quest to run across NH at its widest point from West to East. My friend Jim and I met them for about a ten mile section that ended up in my hometown, at which point Nate had to drop out of the run due to shin pain.

Sherpa John Lacroix and Nate Sanel the Day After the 2013 VT 100

In the years since Nate and I have become good friends, and he’s now a frequent contributor to this blog. Last year I crewed for Nate at the Vermont 100 – it was a phenomenal experience, but sadly he had to drop at mile 70 with severe foot pain (he had been battling plantar fasciitis at the time, and he also had some nasty blisters). Nate was back at the starting line of the VT 100 again this year (I was there to pace another friend – I’ll write that story up soon), and he had put in some of his best months of training leading up to this race. He was ready to crush it, but doubts fueled by another DNF at Massanutten earlier this year lingered (he had pnuemonia and only made it 20 miles).

Here’s how Nate describes his feelings at the starting line of VT100 2013:

“…I find myself full of nervous anticipation.  I want to break 20 hours.  Badly.  But I don’t know if my head is strong enough.  Will I fail once again?  I tell myself to relax and trust my training.  I know that if things go terribly wrong my real goal is to just finish.  If things go right hopefully I can get that sub 20 hour finish that has eluded me at this race.”

So how did it go? Well, I’ll let Nate tell that story, but as you might suspect by the title of this post it went quite well. Head over to his blog to read his full VT100 race report!

Nate examining what will soon be his hardware…

Ben asked if I could share the trailer to the film and spread the word about their Kickstarter campaign supporting the production. Given the local connection for me, as well as the fact that I’ll be pacing a friend through the last 30 miles or so of the race this summer (where they will be filming), I couldn’t help but share the trailer here.

Take a look, and if you like what you see, consider chipping in to support the production (I did)!

Have a look:

Crewing a race like this essentially means riding around in a vehicle to designated handler stations where you wait for your runner to arrive. At each stop, you change out their fluids, have a selection of food available, plus be ready to change shoes, socks, handle blisters, etc. Nate had done an amazing job of giving my other crew members (Joe Hammond and Brett Coapland) and I estimated arrival times at each stop, as well as detailed instructions on what he wanted us to do for him. My job mostly consisted of refilling his handheld water bottles – one with ice water and another with Hammer Sustained Energy. I was also navigator, though Joe knew the area well enough that I had very little to do in that role. Mostly, I was able to take a lot of photos and videos and simply experience the race as a spectator.

Brett, Nate, and Joe at Silver Meadow Camp on pre-race night

Nate went into the race with a nagging case of plantar fasciitis, and he knew that it could turn into a struggle. He’d found that he could manage the pain best in his Hoka One One Stinson Evo shoes (lots of Hokas out there!), so he started the race in those. He looked strong early in the race, and was well on-pace to meet his sub-20 hour time goal. Early aid stations were without incident, and all was going smoothly.

Brett, Nate, and Joe at Stage Road Aid Station (mile 30.5)

Unfortunately, Nate’s quads started giving him trouble as the miles added up, and he attributed this to the Hokas. At mile 57 He opted to switch into Brooks Grits, which seemed to do the trick as he regained his strength and he flew through the 62 mile aid station, still on sub-20 hr pace.

Nate coming into the Tracer Brook Aid Station, quads acting up (mile 57.4)

Nate cruising into Margaritaville Aid Station (mile 62.5)

The ups and downs you witness at a race of this length are pretty impressive. We arrived at the 70 mile aid station and watched as the runners he was with just 8 miles earlier started to come through. No sign of Nate. We wondered if maybe he’d really picked it up and had arrived and gone through before we got there. Nope, no such luck, and as the minutes ticked on we knew something was wrong. Brett decided to run back up the road a bit to see if he could spot him, and after awhile he came walking down the hill with Nate, who was obviously in pain. In the 8 miles since we had previously seen him, Nate’s PF flared up to the point where it was all he could do to hobble along the dirt roads that make up much of the 100 mile course. The stretch heading out of the 70 mile stop was a brutal uphill (I had attempted to run it earlier in the day, and I can’t imagine doing it after 70 miles of running!), but Nate opted to call it a day. It was clear that the decision to drop was the right one, but it was also clear that he was deeply disappointed that he couldn’t go on. The amount of training that goes into prepping for a 100 mile race is immense, and it’s tough to not meet your goals on race day.

We decided to head back to camp and pack up our things and head home. The thought of hanging at the finish line to watch runners come in was tempting, but Nate was leaving for England on Monday and thought it more important that he get home and help his family pack the next morning.

The big question I had going into the weekend was whether watching the race would make me want to run a 100-miler. There is something to be said about the challenge – I found myself wondering frequently if I could do it, and I have incredible respect for those who put in the training necessary to complete a race like this. That training is the main thing preventing me from considering making an attempt at a 100 miler right now – it would simply take too much time away from my family. But, I do have to admit that I find a tremendous appeal in long trail races like this. The 50K I ran last year was one of the most enjoyable races I have run, and I’m pretty sure I’m going to do another next year, maybe the VT 50K in the Fall. After that, who knows???

Here are a few more pictures from the weekend – the horse race was along the same route used by the runners, amazing to watch them all coming through the same aid stations!

Over the next 5 hours, 52 minutes, and 48 seconds I ran through fields, along gravel roads and forest trails, through streams, and up and down hills. Endless hills. I ran fast, I ran slow, I walked, I hobbled, and at one point I even sat down and took off my shoes (they were filled with sand). I had moments where I felt like I was flying, and I had moments where seemingly all of the muscles between my knees and my hips were screaming at me in unison. At one point my quads, groin, and hamstrings were on the verge of cramping all at the same time, so I stood in a cold stream until the pain subsided. I ate boiled potatoes dipped in a bowl of salt (pure heaven!). I ate peanut M&M’s on the run and had to use my hydration pack to get the rainbow of color off my hands after I scarfed them down. I ate multiple bananas. In the final mile much of this food almost came back up, but I fought the waves of nausea and held it down. And through it all, I had fun. Scratch that, I had an absolute blast!

dailymile Crew: Me, Steve, Thomas, Jenny, Andy, and Brodie

The details of the race are not so much the important part of the experience. What made this day so special was the people. I had so much fun because I was able to share the experience of running the HAT Run 50K with good friends, none of whom I had ever met before in person, but several of whom I feel like I have known my whole life. The reason I had decided to come to Maryland in the first place was to meet up with friends from the dailymile social training network (see photo above). They had done the HAT the previous year, and the stories they’d told of the experience in the Maryland woods had become legendary. A bigger group was in attendance this time around, and it was great to finally meet my friends Andy (thanks for the Panera breakfast!), Steve, Ally, Thomas, Brodie, Jenny, Jeanne, Smitty, as well as several others. I saw many of them out on the course, and we hung out both before and after the race.

Me and Christopher McDougall

I also was looking forward to meeting up with Chris McDougall (see photo above). We’ve exchanged emails off and on for awhile, and as I was mulling doing HAT last Fall I got an email from him saying “If you’re in, I’m in.” Hard to turn down an offer like that! Chris was gracious enough to put me up at his house the evening after the race, and I discovered that we have more in common than our fascination with running form and footwear (or lack thereof). Let’s just say it’s comforting to know that I’m not the only father who thinks the Barbie Princess and the Pauper soundtrack is a musical masterpiece worthy of being belted out when alone in the car. Chris’ family was eminently hospitable, and I owe his wife a huge debt of gratitude for allowing me to fill his house with running talk for a day.

My honest plan for the race was that I really had no plan. After the starting gun went off I settled into a comfortable pace alongside Chris and a few others. Being an Ultra newbie I followed everyone else’s lead and walked the uphills and ran the flats and downs. The pace was more than manageable, and I felt like I could go all day. I had a nice time chatting with Chris about running, shoes, etc., and we had some nice conversations with surrounding runners. I remember the topic of hashing in Laos coming up at one point – funny the topics that come up when on the run.

Around the five mile mark (guessing) there was a stream crossing (photo at right by Jeff Hinte) and I intended to rock hop to the other side so I wouldn’t soak my shoes (I had decided to go with the New Balance Minimus Trail). I wound up slipping on a wet rock and mashed my opposite forefoot onto another rock in an attempt to prevent myself from falling into the water. The pain was instant and piercing, and my immediate thought was that I had broken something – not sure if a shoe with a rock plate would have helped or not, but the Minimus Trails were marvelous aside from this one moment. I kept running, and eventually the pain subsided to a dull ache. A few miles later I kicked a root and collided with the ground. It’s funny how trail spills seem to occur in slow motion, and I could feel my legs giving way as my body slowly plunged to the earth. I managed to bruise my hand badly by using it to brace my fall, but thankfully my legs escaped unscathed. I managed to stay on my feet for the rest of the race.

One of the things about trail running on single track that is different than road racing is that passing can be a challenge. On trails you often run single file (see photo at left by Jeff Hinte), so it’s easy to get separated from people you are running with as you try to maintain a comfortable pace. Around mile 9-10 I got ahead of Chris a bit as we mingled with a bigger crowd of runners, and at one point I looked back and I could no longer see him. The crowd in front of me was sparse at that point so I decided to keep running at the pace that felt most natural at the time. We entered a section on crushed rock road for several miles, and I was feeling really good so I turned on the jets for a bit (ran a 7:00 mile here, which in retrospect probably was a mistake). I passed my friends Thomas and Jenny and said a quick hello, then continued on through the aid station, grabbing a snack as I passed through.

Thomas and Jenny on the trail – photo by Jeff Hinte

From about mile 13 onward I pretty much ran solo. This worked out well for me since I tend to turn inward into my own head as I start to focus on a race once the initial excitement wears down. I passed a lot of people over the next 5 or so miles, and made it through the first big loop at mile 18 feeling phenomenal. As I started the second loop I felt like flying, and I started racing down the downhills a bit too fast. This set up my inevitable crash around mile 25, when my quads started to tell me that they had had enough. I stopped to stretch them out, only to find that the moment I flexed my knee my hamstrings rebelled and started to knot up in cramps. There would be no quad stretching for me. From that point on it was a constant battle to prevent my quads, groin, and hamstrings from locking up completely, but I fought through with a bit of help from a cold leg soak in a stream.

Every hill seemed twice as steep on the second loop, and the roads that I cruised down on loop one didn’t provide nearly the same degree of respite on loop two. Around mile 29.5 I saw my friend Andy up ahead – he was hard to miss with his bright orange du-rag covering his bald head. I set my crosshairs on the du-rag and managed to catch up with him. It was clear that he was hurting, and I wasn’t doing so well myself, so we marched the final mile in with only very short spurts of running. As we approached the finish line we saw Steve and Ally shooting pictures (Steve is an amazing runner and had finished in third place!), which gave us a much needed lift, and we ran the final stretch across a field to the finish line together, crossing in 5:52:48.

Hat Run 50K Course Map

I was mentally lucid for the entire race, but once I stopped running I started to fall apart a bit. I needed food, and I needed it badly. I remember several people trying to talk with me as I trudged into the aid station, but I have a hard time recalling much from those few minutes. After a hot dog and several cups of Coke I began to bounce back, and the celebration ensued. I hung out and had a beer with the dailymile crew, shared some war stories from the race, and had an all around great time – just an amazingly fun and genuinely caring group of people. I caught up with Chris when he crossed the line – he’d also had cramping issues in his thigh adductors (seemed to be a theme for the day from many people), but he finished happy too. The common sentiment was that the race was tough, but well worth the effort. There are truly few better ways to spend a sunny spring day than running trails with friends.

Several people asked me afterward if I would do another Ultra. I kept thinking to myself as I ran that I couldn’t imagine how people manage to run 50 and 100 mile races – I had nothing left after 31. I’ve learned never to say never, and I’ve definitely been bitten by the Ultra bug. Ultras are a totally different beast than big road marathons – much more laid back and they test you in different ways. For me, HAT wasn’t about speed so much as it was about enjoying the moment and ensuring that I had enough left in the tank to finish. I flew when I felt like it, walked when I needed to, and never felt guilty about it. My pace ranged from sub-7:00/mile on a few downhill road sections to near 20:00 on some of the steeper uphills, and I never ran a steady pace for any length of time. That, however, is what made it fun – the terrain and strategy were constantly changing, and the repetitive nature of a road race was nowhere to be found.

Along with the Smuttynose Marathon last Fall, the HAT Run 50K ranks right up there as one of my most cherished running experiences. Though they were very different races, one a road marathon and the other a trail Ultra, they were special because I was able to struggle through and celebrate with friends. Running is a joy and a gift, and it is a gift that is at its best when shared. I love solitary moments on the run, but there’s nothing quite like crossing a finish line and knowing you can share the experience with others. Above is a happy runner, and one who has a feeling he will be doing this again…

For more about this race, check out the following:
–HAT Run Race Report by Thomas Neuberger
–HAT Run Race Report by Steve Speirs (3rd place finisher)

The 32nd Badwater Ultramarathon, presented by AdventureCORPS Inc., was run from July 13-15 2009. Although I have never run an ultramarathon, I find this race to be particularly compelling for a number of reasons. For one, the race is insanely difficult. Touted as “the world’s toughest foot race,” the course is described as follows on the official Badwater race website:

“Covering 135 miles (217km) non-stop from Death Valley to Mt. Whitney, CA in temperatures up to 130F (55c), it is the most demanding and extreme running race offered anywhere on the planet.

The start line is at Badwater, Death Valley, which marks the lowest elevation in North America at 280′ (85m) below sea level. The race finishes at Mt. Whitney Portal at 8360′ (2533m). The Badwater course covers three mountain ranges for a total of 13,000′ (3962m) of cumulative vertical ascent and 4,700′ (1433m) of cumulative descent. Whitney Portal is the trailhead to the Mt. Whitney summit, the highest point in the contiguous United States.“

As a point of emphasis, the race begins in Death Valley – in mid-July! Having visited Death Valley in August, I can attest to the fact that it’s blazing hot there in the summer, and the 120F temperature the day we were there caused my wife and I to forgo our camping plans and spring for an air-conditioned room. It was one of only a handful of hotel rooms we stayed in during a 6-week cross-country trip (we were unemployed, newly minted college graduates at the time).

Another reason I find this race fascinating is that shortly after I became a dedicated distance runner, I watched the documentary “Running on the Sun,” which recounts the running of the 1999 Badwater Ultramarathon. Running on the Sun documents the training required to successfully run the race (e.g., treadmills set up in saunas), and presents a no-holds-barred account of what the runners have to contend with during the race itself. The documentary is graphic at times (there are some nasty looking feet, as well as various other health problems), and it gives great insight into the mind of those brave (or crazy?) enough to challenge a race like this. The DVD seems to be hard to come by, but it is available for rental through Netflix. A second documentary about the Badwater Ultramarathon, The Distance of Truth, was released recently, but I haven’t seen it yet.

Back to this year’s race. The 2009 Badwater was won by Marcos Farinazzo of Rio de Janeiro, Brazil in a time of 23:39:18. The top female finisher was Jamie Donaldson of Littleton, Colorado, in a time of 27:20:18 (5th place overall). For complete 2009 results click here. For more general information on the race, you can download the 2009 Badwater Ultramarathon Race Magazine.

Iit amazes me that there are humans capable of running such a distance in the summer heat, and it is a testament to the adaptability of the human body and the dedication and hard work of these runners that it can be done. In my opinion, anyone who finishes this race (or any other ultramarathon for that matter) deserves special recognition. Below is a video recapping the 2009 Badwater – enjoy!