Badwater Race Report: Part 2

No sooner than I hauled myself out of what could have been memorialized as the "Jeep of DNF" and proclaimed that The Badwater 135 Ultra-marathon was in fact not a manufacturing facility of sleep products, I started the steep climb up Father Crowley.  For good measure my body decided to check in and make it clear that it still wasn't happy. Here's a nut shot for you, buddy- have fun.

Sometimes it is my stubborn nature that can be my biggest ally in an ultra and this was one of those occasions. I'm sure my buddy and pacer Brian laughed a little as I yelled "Fuck this!" and took off running up a grade that I probably should have been walking even if I felt fresh and light. In a pretty cool video taken by Brian you can see me stop running long enough to heave along the road and quickly take off running up the hill.

I felt like a man alive again. I felt absolutely no different physically than I did before I climbed into the crew car in pain- but now I was pissed. Energized by the steep terrain and the fact that I should have been walking, I just put my head down and ran. After a few miles I caught a glimpse of some other runners up ahead. Their lights still blinking in the morning light was just another reminder that we had all been going for two days and now and served as a beacon. I picked up the pace and we passed one group, then another, and another. The game was afoot.

With the help of the day crew, meaning my buddies Brian, Nico and Scott,  I made it up Father Crowley and to the summit or "Vista Point" I wasnt feeling much better but I was moving aggressively and that was good enough. At the summit of the climb I stopped for a while to chat with Marshall Ullrich who is probably as good of a person as you will ever meet. I was still hurting, and Marshall said he was glad to see I was moving again. We had spent some time on the course together over the last 25 hours and were leap frogging for many miles. He was grabbing a bite to eat before heading out again and I was in need of a quick gear change and some calories as well.  He gave me some advice and encouragement and then went on his way. My crew switched shifts again and that meant I got to see Emily which was cool with me. Jimmy and Carmella were also a welcomed site and I told them that I wanted to get to the 100 mile marker as soon as possible and put the longest part in my rearview. I felt like 35 miles wouldn't seem so far if it meant the finish line was in sight... Yeah right.

Carmella, Jimmy and Emily all took turns pacing behind me, changing my socks, feeding me what I could eat and just being amazing all the time. I had started a pattern that was working pretty well- run to one road marker, then walk for little to let my abdominal fireworks subside, then run to the next marker. We repeated this ritual for hours and hours on end. At some point I saw Marshall up the road about a mile or two ahead strolling like he was out for a fun walk in the mall (only his fun walk is done at about 5mph it seems) I really wanted to talk to him for a while if for no other reason than to just escape my brain, so I decided to try to catch up with him. It gave me a boost of energy, or at least a new found commitment to suffer a little more for a perceived reward. So I put my head down and ran hard for what seemed like an eternity. I finally caught up to the man I admire most in the ultra world, not just for his accomplishment but because he seems to just be the genuine deal. You don't have to worry about who Marshall Ullrich is- he is always authentic. We chatted for a while as we walked. It was probably just another of many random moments for him, but it was special to me and something I will always remember. Eventually we parted ways only to agree that we would see each other soon.
As I ran, more mile markers came and went (on their own schedule it seemed more than mine) and eventually the miracle of constant forward motion delivered me to the 100 mile mark of the Badwater 135. The time was 29 hours and 30 minutes into the race. Even though I would have been done with almost any other 100 mile race over 9-10 hours earlier, I took a certain amount of consolation that as horrible as I felt- I would have made the cutoff in Leadville... Really I was searching for any piece of leverage I could find to keep myself moving forward as fast as my body would allow. I didn't want to let the math creep too far into to my world because it said I probably had 12-15 hours more go...

At this point my crew was waiting for me on the side of the road- Emily and Jimmy ran over to me and handed me the American flag that I had brought to carry over the finish line. The winds were whipping around fiercely as I took the flag from my crew manager Jimmy. I turned my back to the wind and held the flag above my head and I was pleased to see it cascade out in front of me. I instantly froze in place- as I saw the flag billowing up and down I could see the mountains way off in the horizon. Mt Whitney came in and out of view from under the flying flag. "Don't move!" Someone said- Emily and Jimmy both scrambled for cameras and caught the moment that will last forever in my mind.

 

From the 100 mile point of the race there is a mind numbing section of long road that stretches out for what seems to be forever. To make matters worse, it actually appears as if you are moving away from Mt Whitney (off to the right) and are heading farther and farther from the promised land of Lone Pine. I did my best to not think in terms of how much time I had left, but instead tried to look around and take in the moments that the day offered. I was trying to create as vivid a picture as possible for future recollection. The sound of the wind, the heat from the road, the sound of my shoes... 

My beloved crew seemed to adopt a serious yet relaxed type of attitude. They knew it was crunch time and it was getting hot again. I continued running as best as I could, stopping only when needed to walk fast and let the stomach cramps settle down a notch or two. After 10 miles or so I was starting to experience some real foot pain for the first time in the race. The sick part of me was glad to have pain from a new epicenter and it was with detached curiosity that I stopped to take off my shoes and socks... I wondered what I would see under the socks. What we saw were some pretty standard blisters, nothing to be too concerned about. Just deal with it dude- "This ain't no pillow... yeah, I get it. After some serious shoe modifications (cutting apart a new $170 pair of shoes so my toes could be out in the open) we were off again.

 

I did some of my best running in the next section of the course. At about the 110 mile point I made a strange deal with myself. Tired of making such slow progress, I committed to running 1 hour without any stopping or walking at all- screw it. "Whats the worst thing that could happen I thought? So I ran- and ran hard. I clicked off a couple 10 minute miles (which seemed world class fast at this stage of the game) And I found that my new "all out assault" on running re-energized my crew as well. In retrospect I can say that I ran the first of those painful 5 or 6 miles for myself, and the remainder of the miles for my crew. They were so excited and enthusiastic that I just simply couldn't let them down. They knew nothing of the mental games and bargaining I was doing- they only saw me running and running hard. My body was screaming for me to stop or slow down. My gut was twisting in knots. My feet were on fire from blisters. But each time I passed the crew car and waived off support, my friends cheered and honked the horn in support- "Its worth it" I thought. So I kept running for them as they had been doing for me for 2 days now. 

 I had fleeting thoughts of running all the way into Lone Pine and up Whitney without stopping, but that proved to be a bit ambitious to say the least. Eventually after 6 miles or so the pace took its toll on my body. I was broken down to the previous run/walk strategy only now my body was really pissed off. I spent the next 3 miles in a crawl that including gagging, retching, power walking and fighting off sleep. 

"Are you OK?" I heard from somewhere that seemed at least 1000 miles away... It seemed I was running and I was asleep-what a strange combination. "Yes, sir. I'm good" I fired back, taking a mental note to try not to weave into oncoming traffic in the miles to come. We were now 120 miles from the Badwater Basin and the starting line. More importantly, we were approaching the city of Lone Pine. And we were finally getting close enough for the first thoughts of actually finishing this beast of a race to surface in my head. Those who have paced me know that I am somewhat superstitious in races and wont even talk about being done until I am within arms reach of the finish line. Even so, my veteran pacer Nico told me he had no doubt that I was going to make it up Whitney. I was having nothing to do with it... "Don't even think it, dude" I said with a smile on my face.

 It was great to see the entire crew all together just outside of Lone Pine and I think we could all taste the finish in the air, but no one was talking about it now. Nico and I made the right turn to head into Lone Pine and ran the 2 miles to the checkpoint. From the checkpoint we were just a 13 mile climb up the Whitney Portal Road and to the end of this grand adventure. Strangely the 5,000 feet of switch back climbs ahead were not too concerning for me. I knew I had done this literally hundreds of times before. However, the fact that the climb included a long slow 7-8 mile grade at 9% before the steep climbing started was playing tricks on my sleep deprived brain. A quick scan of the math said it could take 5-6 hours or so to make it to the top and that seemed overwhelming. Oh well, this was no time to be in my my head- it was time to work. I was very glad that Emily said she was going to climb all the way to the top with me. I knew that I would work even harder with her by my side.

The crew car, with Jimmy and Carmella, were waiting just a mile or so up the Portal road and they were there to give me what I needed before the climb got too steep to allow for crew access. After a quick pit stop and a can of coke, I shrugged my shoulders, looked straight ahead into the road, and started to climb as fast as I could manage to hold. We were not going real fast to speak of, but we were steady, and I wasn't about to slow down. 

By now I had been stripped down of every layer of my outside persona. Just the real me was present. No thoughts of the future. No thoughts of emails, charity projects, deadlines, expectations or even of finishing this race. Every mental and physical resource available to me was singly focused to the task at hand- moving up this damn hill. I felt insane. As if reality was just another mile marker I passed on the road hours or days before. I no longer trusted any of my senses to tell me the truth. I wasn't sure if any of this was real. Maybe this was all a dream, or a drug induced flashback. I kept thinking "Don't slow down" and I kept climbing.

 I asked Emily if this was real "Am I still here?" I said. "Yes, baby. You are here" she said. 

I thought I saw giant praying hands sticking out of the rocks. I was drifting in and out of sleep without any perceivable change of state. When I "woke up" I simply took inventory of my pace. Was I still moving as fast as I could? OK- good,  keep going. I felt eerily alive. I felt like my heartbeat was connected to everything around me- every blade of grass, every rock on the ground and every star in the sky was calibrated to my heartbeat. I told Emily again that I was going crazy and I busted up laughing. "This shit is really pretty out there, huh?" I said. She smiled and told me I was doing awesome. "Keep going, baby. were are getting there" 

 The steep switchbacks had started some time ago, and I knew we must be getting close. I could start to feel the draw of the finish line like it had a weight and mass.  It was as if I was no longer pushing up hill- I was was being pulled by a force greater than me. I couldn't hold off the emotions anymore... "I did it" I allowed my self to croak in a weak voice. Emily started to cry. I looked up the road to see a strange shape taking form ahead of us. I could see the outline of a man. A giant light behind him made the flag he was holding appear almost ghostly. His arms were stretched out to display the flag in all of its glory. I knew it must be Brian. Emily started to cry even harder. I lost control of my emotions completely and tried to let out a yell of victory. What came out instead was a cacophony of tears, sobbing and sheer exhaustion. I could hear Scott's voice now as well "You did it, man!!" he shouted. And like that I was blanketed in the flag. Brain's arms were wrapped around me and I could feel his body shaking as he cried and told how proud he was. We were are all there now. Jimmy and Carmella, Scott and Brian, Emily and I all embracing. Nico's body may have been miles away in a car driving to the airport, but at that instant but we could all feel his presence on Mt Whitney with us. "Lets finish this thing" some one said. I looked up and I could see the actual finish line only a few hundred yards ahead. We ran. Together as one team- one heart- one purpose and one hundred and thirty fives miles of pure will later. "I'm Free" I thought as I grabbed the banner, lifted it to my face and kissed it.

With an amazing final push we crossed the line just 4 hours after starting the Whitney climb.