2010 Badwater Crew Report

Q: What do you get when you combine "Survivor" with "Gilligan's Island?"

A: The Team Hung-Kwong Ng Crew for the Badwater Ultra-Marathon!

Oh hell no, I am not crazy enough to run the 135 mile Badwater Ultramarathon through Death Valley! But ever since I saw the movie Running on the Sun a few years ago, Badwater has intrigued me. I never had any real desire to run that course in that kind of heat (and don't have near the experience needed to do so), but I wanted to see and experience the race as closely as possible without running it. My friend, Hung-Kwong Ng (pronounced "Ing"), received a last minute invitation to enter the race after some runners dropped out. The invitation came in May, eight weeks before race day. Hung-Kwong ran this race in 2009 and felt he had maintained a competitive level of training, so he accepted with little hesitation. The Badwater Ultra involves such grueling conditions through a desert with temperature highs upwards of 120 degrees and elevation climbs of 10,000 feet that it bills itself as "the world's toughest footrace." While the claim may or may not be true (if the Barkley is considered a footrace, then I would say that one is harder), there is no doubt that the level of difficulty is through the roof.

Also indisputable is the fact that a runner cannot complete Badwater alone. A crew is essential to a successful finish-- well, to any finish, successful or not. Crew duties include "hopscotching" their runner, that is, driving a short distance ahead, stopping to take care of him or her, driving ahead, stopping... for 135 miles; having cold water and sports drink mixed and ready to offer at every stop; spraying the runner down with ice water, icing the runner down, or filling and replacing ice in bandanas or hats, whatever method the runner chooses to keep cool; having food, sports gels, advil, tylenol, sunblock, extra shoes-- whatever the runner requested-- ready to go; tracking the runner's weight and body temperature at regular intervals to monitor for dehydration and overheating; keeping ice chests and gas tanks filled; setting up rest stops and timing them; tending to blisters and other foot problems; and whatever the runner wants. The sole focus is getting the runner to the finish line and doing what it takes to get him or her there.

Runners finish Badwater anywhere from about 24 hours to the cut-off of 60 hours. Hung-Kwong finished in 33 hours last year, and wanted to run under 33 this year. Due to the short notice Hung-Kwong had to put a crew together, as well as the fact that it's really hard to find nutcases willing to travel across the country to cater to a runner who is not 1) themselves 2) related to them or 3) friends with them, our crew consisted of four total strangers and one overworked rental minivan (the race instructions actually advise runners, "do NOT tell your rental company what you will be doing with the car!" ). The ideal crew has five or six members and two vehicles, which allows two people to drive ahead and grab some rest before relieving two others. The better rested the crew, the more efficient. Two vehicles also allows one to take care of an emergency, for instance, to refill the ice chests or get the runner food, without leaving the runner unattended. But we did the best we could with what we had.

I arrived at LAX on Saturday, July 10, to meet up with Hung-Kwong and the rest of the crew. They were all dudes! And yes, Jimbo, you were all hot! Two guys were Ironman finishers, all were accomplished ultrarunners. I guess I was the Gilligan here. Trust me, as proud as I was when I finally, finally qualified for Boston, I would have felt like a complete dork wearing my Boston shirt among this sea of 100 mile, Ironman, and previous Badwater finisher tees. Amazingly, considering we were complete strangers, we all clicked and worked together well throughout the race. Everyone seemed to have a different talent to contribute to the crew, and we all seemed fairly easy-going but serious about our responsibilities. From LAX, we went straight to buy supplies. The list was endless, and organizing all the food, sunblock, water, first-aid supplies, and miscellaneous items in the tight space of the minivan was a daunting task. Traveling to pick up borrowed items including a huge cooler, a smaller cooler, and a folding chair from Hung's friends in California, and getting it all organized took up all of our time until the start of the race on Monday morning.

On Sunday we hit the expo in the aptly named Furnace Creek, CA, to pick up Hung's race packet. The thermometer outside the building read 117, and it was in the shade. A breeze was blowing, and it felt just like having someone point a hot hair blower in your face. And PLEASE don't say "But it's a dry heat!" 117 degrees is 117 degrees, dry or not! We were required to show that Hung and every crew member had their own night-time safety vest and two red blinking lights for the race before we could enter the expo. I walked in, and the very first person I saw was my all-time hero, Deena Kastor. She was crewing for Shannon Farar-Griefer, founder of the Moeben arm pantie company. I met Kastor a short while later and got a photo and her autograph, and knew that no matter what the rest of my experience there would be, this just rocked! Meanwhile, my male cohorts went off to flirt with the "Moeben Chicks," the rest of Shannon's crew, who were all dressed in short, tight Moeben dresses and arm panties and were giving white arm panties with the Badwater logo to the runners. The remainder of the expo was spent listening to a lecture on the many rules for the race; the funniest part was when the safety director told us what would happen if we had car trouble and needed Triple A. He picked up a big rock with "AAA" painted on it and explained that in the desert, the rock was all the Triple A we would get if we locked our keys inside, and it was going straight through our car window .

Then all the runners were introduced. The cast included well-known ultra-runners, including Pam Reed, Marshall Ulrich, Amy Palmiero-Winters, and Jaimie Donaldson (who would be the first place female and set a new woman's course record of 26:16:xx). Seventy-five year old Jack Denness, featured in "Running on the Sun," was also there. Palmiero-Winters had a special prosthetic leg made for Badwater, of white material instead of the usual black, to retain less heat; however, she had just run Western States two weeks earlier, and had problems with blistering in the desert heat, so she ended up dropping out of Badwater after 30 miles. She could just have felt sorry for herself and gone on home, but instead, she and her crew (who all wore bright pink wigs during the race) stayed and cheered runners all along the course right up to the finish line. She and her crew were phenomenal.

Suddenly it was race day, Monday morning. 78 runners started (only seven would DNF) the race in three waves, with the slowest runners starting at 6 am, faster at 8 am, and the fastest at 10 am. Hung started at 10 am. We were all up early to prepare the van and get to the start at Badwater Basin, 282 feet below sea level and the lowest point in North America. The race ended at Mt. Whitney Portal, at 8371 feet above sea level. It was quite a sight, about thirty runners standing in front of big race banners, surrounded as far as the eye could see by desert and huge salt flats. After much photo taking, the national anthem was sung and the horn sounded.

How do I condense 36 hours of an intense experience into a few paragraphs? I guess I can't, so forgive me if this sounds lame. It took about two hours for us to unify into a real crew. The work, and the focus it required, was constant. The organization we had worked so hard to achieve before the start evaporated all too easily as the day turned into the night and into the second day. Any mistakes made, however, (and there were a few at the beginning) were simply not a big deal. If we forgot the water bottle inside the van at a crew stop, we had it ready for him three or four minutes down the road at the next stop. We finally got a rhythm going, though, and things moved along smoothly through the desert. For the next 36 hours, we jumped in and out of the van every five minutes or so to spray Hung down with ice water, offer sports drink, gels, food, or set up a chair so he could rest. He never rested more than 20 minutes, and that only happened twice. Most of the time he rested for only five or ten minutes. After 17 miles runners were allowed to have, not exactly a pacer, but one crew member running behind to support him or her; the three guys on the crew each did substantial support running, carrying a spray bottle with ice water for distances of 25 to 30 miles. I had told Hung before the race that I wouldn't pace, but I did follow him, carrying water and a spray bottle, during a walking phase for about 5 miles during the hottest part of the first day of the race.

Death Valley (hey Chris, it's a national park!) was huge and unforgiving. It could be (and probably was) the setting for every Clint Eastwood western ever made, with vast tracts of land empty but for tumbleweeds, salt flats, and the occasional ragged Joshua tree. Towns (which greatly resembled the sets in Blazing Saddles, seriously ) were 30 to 50 miles apart or more. There weren't bathroom facilities (or even bushes to duck behind), gas stations, or convenience stores with ice and food where you might need them. Cell phone service was sporadic, and internet was non-existent, so advance planning was vital to a race like this. "What can we do if [insert emergency situation here] happens" ran through my mind constantly. But in spite of the locale's desolate nature, the race officials charged with enforcing race rules managed to drive right up to us in seconds whenever our car was parked over the white line on the road (a major infraction), so I wasn't too worried about getting help if we needed it . Fortunately, we never did.

Hung went out hard on the first day, the hottest part of the race with a high of 120 degrees F, and ate no solid food, only sports drink and water until the evening, when he took in some gels. He thought after the race that this may have left him without enough energy to pick up the pace at night, when it cooled off slightly (although not nearly as much as last year-- it was still about 100 degrees at 10 pm). But his perseverance was incredible, and just before noon on the second day he started running again at about a 10:00 pace, and kept this up for the most part until he reached the steepest part of Mt. Whitney. Interestingly he did eat some solid food the second day, Cliff Bars and Poptarts.

After about 120 miles, the steep climb up to Mt. Whitney Portal, elevation 8371 feet, began. At this point every one of us was pumped up with the knowledge that we would finish, and relatively soon. Hung didn't stop to change his shoes, or for anything that took longer than a few seconds, except when he met up with a group of his cheerleaders (Amy and her crew). As he stopped to pose for pictures and do some flirting, a runner whom we had dubbed "Camo Girl" for her camouflage running capris power-walked right past him and stayed in front of him all the way to the finish. After that I, and the rest of the crew put a lid on Hung's social life until we reached the finish, but I was absolutely amazed at how Hung was smiling after being awake in the heat, running and walking, for more than 30 hours. The climb to Mt. Whitney Portal was the most intense part of the race, physically and emotionally. The runners had already crossed 120 miles in extreme heat, and now had to climb a damned mountain! But at the same time, the ascent marks the final stage of the race and everyone feels elated when they start the climb. Amy Palmiero-Winters' pink-haired Girl Power team really eased Hung's ascent, cheering him on and even hiking a large chunk of the course with him. They all posed for pictures with us at the finish line.

Finally, after a few hours of running and hiking, we saw and heard the lights and noise of the finish line. The runners were so spread out by this point that each one ran through his or her own finish line tape, where they received their finisher's medal and, for the sub-48 hour runners, their silver belt buckle. All the crews ran with their runners across the finish line, which was a nice touch. Hung crossed the finish in 35:5x, slightly over two hours more than last year. Amazingly that's only a bit more than a minute per mile slower. Given the fast start and the night-time heat, the time was more than respectable, and after the initial disappointment of not meeting his goal he seemed quite satisfied with the race. After some finish line photos, we headed back to our hotel. I think it took me an hour in the shower to scrub off the rings of desert sand and dust around my ankles, and fresh clothes never felt so good.

The finish line officially shuts down 60 hours after each staggered start, though the last finishers were 6 am starters so the finish line closed at 6 pm on Wednesday. Jack Denness finished just under 60 hours and set a record as the oldest runner to complete Badwater. As the finish line closed, the post-race pizza party was starting in Lone Pine. Denness came straight from the race to the pizza party, entering to thunderous applause from the crowd of runners and crew members. He gave a little speech and swore he would be back only as a volunteer, but he looked so good and so much younger than his true age of 75 that I am betting he'll complete at least one more Badwater.

My experience was quite an epic adventure, and I met some incredible people (not the least among them were my crewmates!). I would do it again. Death Valley is a place I probably never would have considered visiting if I wasn't crewing, but now that I've been there I would recommend it as a vacation spot (although not necessarily in July). Many people unrelated to the race were there to hike Mt. Whitney and the other mountains in the area, and the towns were full of cowboy history. That said, it was a relief to head back to LA on Thursday, where the team dropped me off at an old college friend's place. Dining at a posh ocean-side restaurant in Malibu that evening, I thought about how absolutely bizarre it was that the day before I had been in the middle of a desert with nothing but Poptarts and protein bars to eat, assisting a guy who was racing 135 miles to the middle of Mt. Whitney. It's a crazy awesome life!