The Ratched Report

https://www.facebook.com/alene.nitzky/posts/10206284896494963 check this out... Wifi access has been very poor so I am making this post public. All is well, no, GREAT, so far. Bob is on Whitney with Marshall,he was looking good is morning, and the weather seems to be holding out despite it looking questionable earlier. I will do some full blogposts later on,maybe not until I get back to Fort Collins, but will try to leave short updates here whenever we have a connection. 

So proud of this guy...and so honored to be on his crew, and most of all, his friend. 

More later!

Roadtrip: STAT!

I am packed and ready to go.

Hitting the reset button is one of the biggest benefits of this jaunt across the desert every year. The hardest part is leaving the girls. And Dennis, of course...but really, I know Dennis probably enjoys the break from me. The girls are another story.

The hardest thing for me is to wake up in the morning and not have those four little eyebrows peering over the edge of the bed, patiently waiting for me to stir. Missing the morning buttrubs and being bossed around, yelled at until I get up and out of bed in the direction of getting ready for the morning walk.

I need the 17 hour drive each way to Lone Pine and back because it's a chance to be alone, silent, and in my thoughts. This year I need to prepare myself for a major habit change when I get back, because as things are, it will be the Blob pacing Bob in Death Valley. I have been slacking sooooooo bad...

I've really let myself go over the summer. It keeps getting worse. I can tell by the way my clothes fit, and how I feel so sluggish every time I go out and run. It's okay, but I did realize that its been a full year since I pretty much stopped training altogether! It was last September, when I started tapering for NorthCoast, that I started on that slow descent into blobification.

A little too much indulgence in the microbrews and not watching the calories, along with too little activity, too much sitting on my butt exercising my fingers on the keyboard.

The good news is, I have over 30 visits left on my pool pass to EPIC for when I get back, so I can start running in the pool, if I dare walk from the locker room to the water in a swimsuit. That is, if I can still fit in my swimsuit!

And I am going to start doing some regular yoga to improve my flexibility, to make my goal of being able to bite my toenails, or whatever nails are left down there after next week.

And I am going to start lifting again and doing my core strengthening routine. And I am also going to start running consistently, and get miles on my feet. And then I'm going to cut WAY back on the beer...maybe to one beer per week...

Stop the Blob!

For the next week and a half, check Bob's blog, Bob Runs Ultras as I will be posting to it to keep his followers up on his progress. In other words, there will be a Blob on Bob's Blog.

Say that ten times fast.

I'll be posting to this blog when I have Internet access, too. See you soon.

California Dreaming

Sitting here...

Wishing I could be there...

It wasn't a bad weekend as far as workouts went. I did the 8 mile hike to Chasm Lake and the vertical, and it didn't bother me. Then Saturday I ran an hour, did a little lifting and core work, which has me sore today, but it's a good sore in the right places. My hamstring felt fine during the run, I only did 10 minute miles, and it was humid like Florida! I know that picking up the pace is not a good idea right now. But it was good to be able to do the run without a peep out of the hamstring.

Today when I got up, I did some more abdominal work that I didn't finish Saturday, and then I went for a 25 mile bike ride, without pushing the hills too hard. I decided to not run today and give the hamstring a break since I'd like to be able to run the next two days, for my sanity. I can run in the morning before work Monday and then Tuesday I'm off, so I figured this was a good time to rest it.

I won't have a lot of time to run this coming week and that will be good, it will force me to have another full week of down time from intense workouts. The hamstring has definitely improved and the groin does not seem to be any problem at all.

I was thrilled to read that Joe Fejes broke the Vol-State record, he ran the 314 miles across Tennessee in 3 days and 8 hours. Awesome job, Joe! And Lisa Smith-Batchen is doing a Badwater quadruple crossing this year. I know she'll enjoy every step of the way and do great.

Even if I'm not running Badwater, I always have the best time with the medical team, I am just as happy to do that instead of running the race. But I'm missing it, the magic of being there in that spectacular place, in that huge space surrounded by colorful rocks, cradled by salt flats, and covered by blue sky in the day and mind-blowing stars at night.

I really do wish everyone a fantastic time and that everyone has the fun, memorable, and safe race experience they worked so hard to achieve. It's painful to not be there, because I know how I feel every time I am there, and also how motivated and inspired I feel every time I come back. It always helps me put things back in their proper perspective.

Each time I come back from Death Valley, being surrounded by so many strong, positive, enthusiastic and supportive people, I realize again that the little stupid things we deal with day to day, like the pettiness of people who have no life outside of their power-grabbing, insecurity-induced fears, and relationally aggressive habits, are not what life is about.

There are so many of those people, who often rise to the just the right place and become roadblocks in their desperation to maintain control behind masks and facades that attempt to hide their self-loathing misery. If you're not careful, their sociopathic cruelty, lack of empathy and insensitivity can stop you in your tracks and make you question your entire purpose for going forward and existing.

This is a fact of life and the working world, unfortunately, it happens everywhere. But I find it awfully ironic that nurses do this to each other, and they're probably among the worst! So next time you hear someone refer to nurses as angels, not only is that a rather backward, sexist comment, but it's also as far from the truth as you can get. No, nurses are not angels. Many of them are hard-working, intelligent, kind people with good hearts who sincerely care to help other people, but there are enough mean girls out there to more than make up for the good intentions of any halo-sporting people in scrubs. Don't be fooled.

Life is about enjoying what you do. You have to be happy. It's important to be in a non-toxic environment, around people who are happy and secure enough in themselves that they don't play games. People who can feel joy in other people's successes, and can continue to believe in themselves without feeling like someone else's success somehow takes away from theirs. That is what is so great about ultrarunning, the supportive environment of athletes who understand that we're all just trying to do the best that we can as individuals, and that is what contributes to the positive energy that helps others push themselves to greater achievements.

Badwater is something I really need for my head right now. But I'll have to be content with what is. I go back tomorrow to work, and I'll be doing 5 shifts over the next 7 days, which will likely kill me, but in case I don't die, someone please put me out of my misery the following week, when I'm trying to recover from it. I just hope that they have plenty of support available through the entire week for all this new computer stuff. After a month I imagine it will become routine.

I can always have escape fantasies about Death Valley. Instead of driving down Lemay Avenue, I can be driving down this road.

It's been a quiet, low-key weekend. It rained some, and it got humid. Better than the bone-dry weather we had the past few years.

When the sky looks like this, Isabelle hides out in the woman cave.

Dennis was busy working on the area where we will be putting raised beds for the garden. He was practicing for when we go to Manhattan Beach, working on his tan and beefing up his runner's body for the Cuervo girls.

A Walk With the Goblins

What a gorgeous day along the Front Range!

I started my day too early, woke up at 5:15. I thought of going out for a run and getting an early start, but I couldn't clear the fog enough to go downstairs and make coffee. So I went back to bed. I slept until 7:30, and decided to bag the run, and get my butt in gear so I could go to Denver and spend as much time as possible with Steph.

Traffic wasn't bad in the morning and I got to ehr house by 10. We hung out and caught up until it was time to go over to Karen & Pat's for the No Goblin Gas 50K run and BBQ. We drove over to Karen's house and were going to drop off some stuff before we went to the trailhead, but Steph couldn't remember the code to get in the garage, so we went to the trailhead instead. We were giggling about our memory issues.

We got to the trailhead and met Ed and Sylvia there. Ed took off with the boys and the three of us women took off down the trail for a walk. Sylvia was great. I can tell that this group of ultrarunners have completely accepted her even though she doesn't run. She's great for Ed, smart, strong, and funny. I am so happy they found each other. Sylvia and I also discovered that we are both originally from Philadelphia.

It was a nice day, a little on the warm side, but not hot.

After about an hour we headed back to Karen & Pat's house to start setting up, Steph remembered how to get into the house. We got things going and soon everyone started to show up. There were lots of people, ultrarunners I didn't know, or recognized from the remote past. I saw a few people I hadn't seen in years. And there were dogs, and babies, so we had it all covered.

There were quite a few younger ultrarunners there, asking me all kinds of questions about Badwater, and other races I've done. They're so intense when they ask me the questions. It's like they expect this hard-core superbuff extreme intense psycho athlete, and they find themselves talking to a middle-aged, graying, wrinkling, not skinny or buffed-out, short little person wearing normal clothes, not decorated with a bunch of sponsors or athletic company logos, who just answers their questions. They probably think I'm the wife of one of the other runners there.

I think they are always shocked. "Oh, YOU'RE Alene? I've heard about your adventures." It's funny because I always tell people, I really don't take racing all that seriously.

Then they give me that funny look, "But don't you train for it?"

Yes I do train hard for Badwater, but just to finish alive, you have to. What I don't take seriously is the competitiveness. I just get out there and do my thing. If I want to run fast, I train to run fast and I put my mind to it when I'm in the race. If I'm just out there to socialize and finish, then I socialize and finish. I really don't worry about it when I'm training and I certainly don't worry about what people think of my performance or how I measure up to other runners.

They ask me what I eat, and how much I drink. I tell them, I eat any food that sounds good, and I have no idea how much I drink. I don't keep track. And then they look even more surprised. When they asked me the question about how much I drink, I looked across the table at Ed. He tried to answer for me, but he didn't know either. He runs the same way I do, he doesn't worry about it. He just goes out and finishes.

There's a lot to be said for not being OCD about every element of training. You can't be or you'll drive yourself crazy.

I wish I could teach that to up and coming runners. I won't pound myself into the ground, or keep track of every little thing I do. There are too many other things in life worth enjoying that you can't enjoy if you live, eat, sleep and breathe ultrarunning.

I see so many young ultrarunners get out there, when they first discover they can run 100 miles, and they get fixated on pushing their bodies to the limit. I can understand the curiosity factor- just how much can I do? How far can I go? They try to find out how many miles a week they can run, or how many 100 milers in a year, how much vertical or how many miles they can run in a year, and the physical fatigue and mental burnout are waiting there for them, like a pile of fresh dog poop. Eventually they will step in it...

How's that for an analogy? But it's all part of learning, and discovering your limits, and that's what this sport is all about. I always hope I can help people avoid the pitfalls that I and other people have experienced along the way.

It was Ed's birthday last month and we had a cake for him. He's feeling spunky at 63. He challenged a guy 10 years older than him to a race, it was the father of one of the 30 something ultrarunners there. Ed was a little surprised when the other guy took him up on it! Maybe you should keep your mouth shut, Ed! We all got a good laugh out of that scene...

On my way home, traffic was backed up on all the northbound routes, I-25 and everything parallel to it. I found a way to get off the exit ramp on 76, and get on 270, which I took to highway 85, and north to Greeley. So it took me two hours to get home. But it beats sitting in bumper to bumper traffic in Denver.

Steph and I are excited about planning a girls' trip to Death Valley next spring. We're going to check out all the places we never have time to visit when we're there for Badwater.

Over the past week I came up with more ideas on how to de-stress. I'll be putting those into action when I get back from OKC.

Tomorrow, easy 12 miles on the agenda, and I have to start packing for my trip and race! I can't believe it's the end of October already.

Death in Death Valley

I'm very sorry to say that I am reluctantly blogging about the death of a runner, again. I've already been asked about it, people always want to know what I think, with a blog about ultras, Badwater, and heat running, so I decided to post, carefully.

I don't mean for this to sound judgmental. It's not intended that way. The grief of his family and friends is too painful and too great, there hasn't been enough time for them to process all that has happened, and right now, we don't even have all the details or the results of an autopsy.

There have been comments and articles on the Internet and in Outside magazine and various blogs, and discussion on ultralists. I've steered clear of it, but I've had too many e-mails yesterday and today asking me if I know about this, if I knew him, if I know what happened, what do I think, etc. I got tired of writing back to people saying, I really can't comment on this right now. So here's what I know:

Most unfortunately, it was in Death Valley. It was not connected with the Badwater race, not connected with any multiple crossing of the valley, not connected with any organized event. It wasn't even intended as an ultra run.

I don't know all the details beyond that. I didn't know Michael Popov, I ran in one race with him 4 years ago but we never exchanged more than a few words and well-wishes as we ran laps at Across the Years. He was young, a fit and accomplished runner.

It sounds like he was trying to cross the bottom of the valley from the West Side Road to Badwater, a distance that, as the crow flies, is only about 10 kilometers. He underestimated what it would take to cross that way, it appears he didn't have enough fluids to keep him going in the event something went wrong, which it did.

I wish someone had told him that Ben Jones had done an autopsy before on a guy who tried to cross the valley like that, looking across and thinking, it's not that far, but died doing it. I don't know if anyone told him. I don't know if they did and he decided to do it anyway. It's not the first time that someone has attempted to go across that way and died.

Crossing the valley that way isn't what it appears. There are obstacles, wet, muddy, marshy salt flats, variations in terrain and footing that make it a lot longer crossing than a few hours. It's not pancake flat as it appears from the eye or even the topo maps. There's no shade, and no drinkable water. There's also no access to a road without going a long way out of the way...

It doesn't matter who you are, how well-conditioned you are, how experienced or accomplished you are. Whenever you set out on an adventure run of any distance, but especially in an extreme environment like Death Valley, you need to do your homework, and you need to plan for the worst with a workable backup plan.

It was 123 degrees. He died of heat stroke. I don't know if he had a backup plan. It doesn't sound like there was one. It doesn't take long between the time someone gets in trouble in the heat and death from heat stroke, without intervening quickly. It sounds like he didn't have a chance by the time someone discovered him. Even though he was conscious when found, it didn't take long before there was no way to revive him.

There is nothing anyone can do to ease the grief of his family, his friends, and the people who were closest to him as they go through this loss. It is unfortunately one of the most difficult lessons to accept for people who love adventuring and extreme sports. We are not infallible.

We CAN do everything in our power to keep the worst from happening, and having a safety plan, a backup plan, and doing your homework before you go might not save every life in every instance, but it might save yours.

My own feeling is that it didn't have to happen, and unfortunately, it did. Do your homework. Don't think you're invincible, because you're not, no matter who you are.

Please be mindful of this as you go on your journeys.

TGIA

As far as I'm concerned, summer can end each year when I get back from Death Valley. By late July, I'm done with the heat, I'm ready for the screaming kids in the neighborhood to go back to school, and I'm ready for the best running days ahead. From August through November, the weather keeps getting better and better for running, until we start getting the storms that bring ice to the roads.

I did a grand total of 115 miles of running during the month of July. I did more miles on the bike than I did running. But finally, I don't feel like my legs are flat and stiff and sluggish anymore when I go out to run.

What a week this end of July has been. I've experienced every possible emotion, and all somehow connected with running...hope, happiness, joy, envy, anticipation, sadness...I'm not even sure where to start!

I guess I'll start with the bad news and work my way to the good news.

At Western State College in Gunnison and at Adams State College in Alamosa, there is a long standing running rivalry that exists to this day. Their cross country and track teams, considered among the best in the nation, are just two hours’ drive away from each other, each with their own distinct cultures, but close enough that many friendships develop between the running alumni of the two schools.

On Friday July 20th, the Rocky Mountain Athletic Conference awarded Hall of Fame awards to several individuals and teams. Among the recipients were the 1986 Western State College men’s cross country team, and Pat Porter, a two-time Olympian, and an Adams State alumnus. My husband Dennis was an assistant coach of the 1986 Western State team, having graduated from and competed for Western State College. Dennis was a national champion in the 3000 meter steeplechase, ran against Pat in cross country, and was a teammate of Pat's on the U.S. team at the World Cross Country Championships in 1990. This picture is of Pat in the middle, flanked by our friend Steve Cathcart (left) and Dennis (right), at the Hall of Fame awards less than two weeks ago.

This past Thursday, July 26th, we heard the shocking news that Pat, along with his 15 year old son and son’s friend, were killed in a plane crash.

Pat was admired by so many runners. They were in awe of him, and he inspired them. He was funny. He used to call Dennis “The Truck”, a reference to his relentless, solid, focused running style. I have laughed many times over the years over that reference to the truck.

Pat was 53 when he died. His wife Trish and their daughter have lost a husband and father, son and brother. Words don't do justice to such a tragedy.



This morning I was out for my normal human being run of 5 miles on the bike path, and I ran into a neighbor whom I know from the cancer support group I often attend. I saw him out walking his dog just before I left for Death Valley. He and his wife were just processing the news of a recurrence of his cancer, without many treatment options, but they were going forward wth more chemo. He had just had his first cycle of chemo when I saw him then.

When I saw him this morning walking his dog on the bike path, he was bald. His hair was falling out already, and he buzzed what was left off. We talked for a few minutes. He's in good spirits despite the dire news and the steroids that have caused him to gain weight and mess with his moods and sleep, and his second chemo cycle starts tomorrow. We laughed about getting charged up for Chemo Monday.

Tomorrow is Chemo Monday for both of us. I'll most likely be giving chemo to some other patient where I work. Somewhere, someone is out there running an adventure run, and we're at Chemo Monday.

Speaking of adventure runs, yesterday Cheryl Zwarkowski finished her Badwater triple crossing of 405 miles. That means she must not have done Whitney, so like me, she stuck to road crossings. It took her 12 days. A big congratulations to Cheryl for her accomplishment. I wish I could have been out there too, and more.

Oh yes, I'm envious. Not to mention the reference to her post-Badwater vacation in Hawaii.

Money is the biggest limiting factor that I have when it comes to doing these adventure runs. I suppose I will need to get after it and find some sponsors or support, because I'd like to be able to go beyond what I've done before, but it takes me too long to save that kind of money on my own. Another project...

What I really enjoyed most this past week was going for a bike ride with my friend Troy. We were planning to do about a 30 mile ride, and he asked me to pick the route, so I took him toward Windsor to do a loop over there. When we stopped for a water break, I pointed out the path that goes to all the way to Greeley, that I've ridden dozens of times, but not yet this year.

He mentioned that we ought to do that some time. Then I suggested we go that way, and he went along with it. We ended up riding over 50 miles, which was his longest ride ever. We went slow and easy, and he was really strong at the end, so I'm sure he had a lot more miles in him. I usually ride alone, so it was great to have him along and get a chance to talk for hours instead of in 2 minute sound bites passing between work shifts.

I've been told I have that effect on people if they run or ride with me, I can sneak in an extra 20 miles before they even realize what's happened.

And the other happy news is, I'm not running an ultra in August, I'm going to the beach instead, with Dennis! We're going out to visit my parents in Manhattan Beach in August for a few days. I can't wait.

So...I go back to work Chemo Monday tomorrow and then Tuesday. By Wednesday it will be work hangover time and another week will be halfway done...and it will be August.

August means fall is here, finally. Fall starts in early August up high in the mountains, when the raspberries are ripe for picking and the highest aspen trees are just starting to turn slightly gold. The temperature actually dropped into the 50s the other morning, it was 58 degrees when I woke up. The days are noticeably shorter.

TGIA!

Getting Back to My Happy Place

I ran a big 2.3 miles this afternoon. But it was the most relaxing and necessary run of the week, wrapping up a lot of emotion and a fitting way to close out the business of my day. After my run, I felt like I could melt into the floor. I finally took a nap, and was able to just close my eyes and sleep.

This morning was Ornella's funeral. I can't speak for anyone but myself, but for me it was a calming, reassuring way to bring closure to an important chapter of my life in a peaceful way. The chapter closing doesn't mean the book is over, though.

I'm not going into a lot of details here, but Ornella was, still is, and always will be a huge part of my inspiration to run Badwater, along with other ultras, and raise funds for the Cancer Center here. Ornella was married to my friend Troy. She fought ovarian cancer for 10 years, all the way to the end, and I've never seen anyone with a tougher spirit than her. She left behind a beautiful family and a legacy of love and kindness.

When I crossed Death Valley in 2008, and in my double crossing in 2011, I carried Ornella in my heart. I thought of the desert crossings as a metaphor for her struggles. One of these days I'll write a more detailed blogpost about that story.

After an emotional week, lots of intermittent meltdowns and not much sleep, I feel like I can now return to the business of my life. I need to start getting organized for my race next week.

Tomorrow I start out the day with a video session, with two runners I know who inspire me, and then I work the weekend. After my weekend I start an 11 day break from work that couldn't have possibly come at a better time. I have lots of exciting stuff planned in the next few months, including my race, the Double Mick, and being on the medical team at Badwater again. I'm also getting started on some new projects at work, related to community health, that will keep me busy.

I feel like I'm getting back to my happy place.

No reservations...let the adventure begin!

The past two days have been a whirlwind of reservations, a statement which sounds paradoxical to me.

I've spent the past 30 hours or so working on Badwater business. Entry fee & paperwork sent via priority mail, hotel reservations, rental van reservations, airline tickets, figuring out how many Mt. Whitney permits and for which dates. Steph and I have talked on the phone a half dozen times.

Hammering out details for the return trip. Still waiting on a few last minute crew travel arrangements. A few little changes we've made to our plans for when we get there, like spending the first night in Las Vegas rather than Furnace Creek, so we can do our major shopping in the morning in Vegas.

Identifying the still-to-be-solved mysteries, like how we're going to get our coolers home at the end.



True, it is going to be a whirlwind, maybe we'll have a dust devil or two, but one thing is for sure... I have NO reservations! I can hardly wait to set foot in Death Valley again!



I can't count how many times in the past two days I've been doing something else and suddenly I'm running Badwater again, and I get this big smile on my face, and I get lost somewhere out there on the highway, overlooking Devil's Cornfield, with the Panamint Dunes in the background, feeling my searing skin and the sun blasting down on my head, seeing the heat blur a band of waves across the asphalt.

One of my favorite, but most difficult, places on the whole course is here, around 35 miles in, before you head downhill toward Stovepipe Wells. It's late afternoon and the hottest part of the day. It's at this point that the race is about to begin, because you've nearly survived the hottest part of the race and you're about to face a 5000 foot climb on hot asphalt as the sun is setting.



And then the stars at night. Under the black sky with silhouettes of the mountains, shadows of the rocks and sparse little plants, it almost looks like you're on the moon.

Let the adventure begin!

Photo credits: All photos by Nathan Nitzky

Just for Fun...A Little History

Death Valley Chuck-Walla, April 1907, ad
On a cold day it's fun to think about warmer places. One of my favorite things to do when I'm in Furnace Creek is to visit the little museum there at the resort. This ad is displayed in there. I always get a kick out of it.

It's really cold outside, and the forecast is for colder. I have a few more long runs planned before I start to rest for Across the Years. I'm planning a long one the day after Thanksgiving.

This week I didn't work too hard with the running, got 80 miles in but ran relaxed and easy every day. I didn't want to tire myself out with a couple of high mileage weeks coming up. I did a 30+ mile run at the lakes the other day and the weather was crazy. I froze my butt off for most of the first few laps, so I put more clothes on.

Then the sun came out and I got really hot, so I peeled those layers off and left them at the car, and then of course the sun went back behind the clouds and the wind picked up, and I froze again. Then I got the layers out again and of course the sun came out. By then it was nearing sunset and getting colder anyway.

I spent most of this weekend cooking. I don't know why I suddenly got in the mood but I made tamales, which take two days, and other stuff too. Must be the cold weather, makes you want to go inside and be near the stove.

An automobile trip through hell sounds pretty appealing right now.

Double Vision: Badwater 2009

This year I worked as a medical volunteer at Badwater instead of running the race. Last December at Across the Years I talked with Lisa Bliss about doing this while we ran laps around Nardini Manor. I'd met Lisa the year before at Across the Years, before I sent in my application to run it in 2008. She's the medical director of Badwater, a physiatrist (M.D.), not to mention an extremely talented runner and an all-around genuinely nice person. I figured with my nursing skills I might be able to help the runners, and Lisa welcomed me on the team.

There is no better place to be in the middle of July.

I flew into Las Vegas and rented a car, staying in Pahrump the first night. I wanted to take pictures, photographs for inspiration to paint desert scenes. I had time to take a few pictures on the way into Furnace Creek on Sunday morning and then I arrived at the visitor center and helped the race staff with preparing for runner check-in. I met up with at least a dozen of the regulars at Badwater, people I've known for several years through the race. This was an opportunity to get to know some of them better.


It was strange being on the other side from where I was last year. All the fuss and high energy and stress that revolves around being the racer, checking in, having your crew pampering you like bridesmaids, all of those feelings came back from last year. I was glad to be stress-free.












During check-in I was the "splitter", sending runners one way to get their mugshots taken, and directing the crews the other way to go shopping for shirts and race paraphernalia from the Zombies. I felt like half traffic cop, half social butterfly. It was very fun greeting everyone.

When Pam Reed's crew checked in, one of her crew members looked familiar, and then listening to his voice, I knew him from somewhere. Then I put the pieces together. Pam is from Tucson, and Rob, her crew member, is someone I went to college with, for a couple of years, at NAU. He eventually transferred to U of A but was roommates with the guy who lived next door to my friend (and ultrarunner) Kirk Apt. I haven't seen Rob in over 25 years. He is now running ultras too. Pretty cool.

After all the socializing it was time for our race staff meeting, and then the pre-race briefing, where Chris (Kostman, the race director) introduces everyone and talks about rules and other business. Lisa talked to the group about medical concerns. Right afterwards we had our medical team meeting over dinner at the restaurant in Furnace Creek. It took forever to get our food, with the big crowd of race people, but it was a chance to get to know everyone.

There were 10 of us. It was a big group, Lisa and Tim from Washington, Kim and Jeff from Pennsylvania, me, George, Dave, and Steve, all paramedics from different parts of California, and Woofie from Arizona. Woofie is one of my old running partners from Scottsdale. And Mary, who is also a physiatrist, from Pennsylvania, who was to chauffeur Chris on the course and stay at the finish line with him to provide medical support there for the last day and a half of the event as the runners finished.

What a nice bunch of people, and we worked well together as a team.

The night before the race started we all got together, went through the equipment and made our plans. Most of the medical team would go down to the start and weigh the runners in at each of the three starting waves. Steve and I stayed in Furnace Creek and got the medical room organized and got our supplies divided up for the boxes we would need later when most of the team would be in Stovepipe Wells and the others would go ahead to Lone Pine for the faster runners. We ended up not having to treat anyone in Furnace Creek. It seemed like it was going to be a hot day but the high temperature in Furnace Creek on race day was only 122. Not so bad.

We moved on to Stovepipe Wells. While I was driving toward Stovepipe, I stopped a few times to check on runners who didn't look good, or people we'd heard about that we were concerned about. Everything was pretty good, but a few were starting to suffer, which is always the case in that long hot stretch in the afternoon.

Once we got set up at Stovepipe Wells the runners started to come in, first slowly, then we got full. We had 6 cots set up and they were full for most of the evening! We were busy. Mostly dehydrated runners, who were down 8, 10, or more pounds. We'd give them oral fluids and electrolytes and they'd cool down for a while and then they'd get up and go back out. We had a small number of runners where we were concerned about hyponatremia, but we were able to fix them and they went on to finish.

There were a couple of more serious issues, one of which was a crew member, where we did end up contacting EMS, and one runner late in the race who went to the emergency room in Lone Pine. But everyone turned out okay in the end. And there was one runner in Stovepipe Wells who wasn't able to keep oral fluids down and eventually ended up agreeing to IV fluids, so he ended up as a DNF.

The runners would come in, we'd weigh them, ask them how long it had been since they peed, ask questions about drinking and eating, and we'd give them fluids and electrolytes if they needed it, and we'd hold them until they were able to keep fluids down, eat, and pee, give us a clear enough urine sample, gain a few pounds, and felt ready to go back out on the course. Occasionally I'd have to keep them moving along, sometimes they'd get too comfortable. And then there were a few runners and crew members who seemed to think the medical area was a recovery room, or a cooldown station, even though their runner wasn't in distress. Then I'd have to be traffic cop again.











Eventually the pee cups started to look more like a tasting selection at a brewery. Interesting colors, from dark amber to light wheat. We had a few colors outside of the beer spectrum, too.


The first night I got 4 hours of sleep. We had a few rooms at Stovepipe and we slept in shifts. I slept until 4 am and then woke up to drive to Lone Pine. I left in the darkness and there were very few runners left on the stretch going up Townes Pass, and the sunrise was spectacular. It lasted all the way until I got to Darwin. I did have to make a stop in Panamint Springs at the store to get coffee, and I wasn't to sure of what might be brewing in their coffee pots, so I opted for two pre-packaged Starbucks drinks from the cooler. $4.00 each, but I needed caffeine bad, so it was worth it. I thanked the guy at the register for putting up with us, since they had the store open all night just for the race. He said, "Everyone has been so nice this year!"

I passed the front runners on their way into Lone Pine and most everyone looked great all the way in. I saw Jamie Donaldson who won it for the women last year and this year. She gave me the thumbs up. She was a good hour ahead of Pam, the 2nd place woman.

Not long after I got to the Dow Villa in Lone Pine, where race headquarters is, the Brazilian runner won the race, and they radioed from the finish line that they were sending him down to us. He only spoke Portugese but I managed to communicate with him using Spanish. Note to self: Learn some Portugese before next summer. At least the basics, like drink, pee, eat, etc. Turned out he was fine, just a little dehydrated.

There was an extra challenge for the mid-pack runners. There was a fire in the lower campground, just below where the finish line is, and the top 4 miles of the course were closed for several hours during the race. Chris had to come up with a creative solution to deal with this, so runners were given an option to finish at 131 miles, or to come back later when the course was open and finish out the last 4 miles. Fortunately the fire was contained and the course was re-opened later so many of the later finishers were able to do the full course.

I learned a lot about the effects of heat stress on the body, how to treat dehydration, what to look for if you are not sure if a runner is hyponatremic or dehydrated, or both...I had a great time, met so many nice people, and got to hang out with so many of the people I already know from ultras.

Badwater has become another family for me and it's hard to imagine being away from it. Chris was so generous and appreciative of our efforts, he has turned this event into something that I think everyone on the staff and involved in the race was proud to be a part of.

Stovepipe Wells was the busiest spot for medical, as expected, it's at the end of the hottest part of the day. In Lone Pine it's been cooler and everyone has worked out their issues, and if they had bad problems they usually dropped out by then. There was a lot of foot care on the last day in Lone Pine, but not too many runners needing medical treatment. Mostly routine stuff. But some of the strangest requests came at the end of the race.

A crew member came in, telling me his kid had not had a bowel movement for 2 days. I felt like telling him to go down the street and get a salad at McDonald's, it worked for me. But I told him to go get something over the counter at the drug store if drinking more water and eating fiber didn't work. Sorry dude, I only play Poopsmith when I'm getting paid...

Then another crew member brought his teenage daughter in, she was sick, probably with some kind of viral thing, with a fever and vomiting...or maybe just dehydration, but I am not a pediatrician either. If you're crazy enough to drag your child to an event like this at least take responsibility when they get sick.

Most runners and crews were well informed about heat illness and took good care of each other out there. It was only a small percentage of the runners we ever saw in the medical station. Running in those conditions can put even the best trained runner at risk but it seems like the crews and runners are mostly very knowledgeable and well-prepared.

The only thing that I thought was weird were the very small number of crew members who brought their runners in afterwards and told us the runner needed an IV, as if we were a recovery tent. That was not our job either, and it annoyed me that they were telling us what their runner needed when clearly they had no clue. They just needed to drink, eat, rest and sleep. Sure we could all feel better after a few liters of normal saline living in this dry climate but IV fluids are just a quick fix for what they really need to do, which is take care of themselves and let their bodies recover. People expect things to be fast and easy. There is nothing about this race that falls into either of those categories.

The post-race party happened Wednesday evening and it was fun to see everyone one last time. I got to spend some time talking with Nattu and his crew, including Bob from Florida. Nattu kicked butt this year, he ran 37 hours, in his 3rd Badwater. We miss him around Colorado, he's been in California all year.

We were all exhausted, so we all got sleep and then Thursday everyone took off for home or wherever they were headed, some to Lake Tahoe, Lisa and Tim to climb Whitney, and I headed back into the valley to take pictures. I first dropped off the sharps containers at Ben and Denise's house so Ben could dispose of them for us. Being the coroner, he has the connections! Then I left to drive back across the course, in the heat of the day.

I wanted to catch both sunset and sunrise on Thursday night and Friday, and it was worth it, I got nearly 1300 pictures and probably 300 good ones. I spent the afternoon at the pool in Furnace Creek and then went out at sunset toward Badwater. The next morning I woke up at 4:30 and got out again to take more pictures along Artist's Drive. Then I drove back to the Las Vegas airport.

When I go back to run Badwater again, I hope it will be to do a double. I want to go back and run Badwater again in 2011, but I'm not sure if I'll actually do the double so soon. If I don't do a double then, I'm making it my age 50 goal.

When I was 40 and was just starting to get my health and energy back after getting my thyroid problems straightened out, I made a promise to myself that I would be fitter and healthier at 50 than I was at 40.

I know what you're thinking. I didn't say anything about being crazier.













There is something about turning around and going back across Death Valley after the race itself. For me, it's like closure. I can't just leave it with my back turned, I have to go back and see it in reverse.











Last year I can remember the morning Ken and I were driving back home, we left Lone Pine and drove back over the course and saw the few runners who were out there doing a double, and I wanted to be out there. I didn't want it to end at the finish line at Whitney Portal. I need to turn around and go back.


The colors in the rocks, the plants, and even the man-made objects in the landscape make you feel like you're on another planet. I know my running friends, even the ones I've known for many years and who share my love of running, don't understand why I love running in Death Valley in the summer. They don't understand how I can want to run, much less enjoy a race that covers 135 miles on asphalt. But they don't understand that this is the most beautiful, colorful, vibrant asphalt in the WORLD!


When I'm there, I have lost interest in how fast I run, where I finish in the pack, and in putting the race behind me as fast as possible. Running here is not an event to be put behind you. The elements are not separate from you, you are part of the surroundings. You become part of the landscape, the wind, the heat, the road, and the colors while you're moving through it. And there is nothing else like it.

This is why I want to go back. I want to see more sunrises like this, and as the day goes on, the relentless sun, the hot wind, the intense colors, the dramatic landscape that dwarfs you, while at the same time you belong to it. You become part of the whole picture. There is no other way to describe it, except to experience it.










Photos (from top): The temperature on the odometer on my rental car, Badwater sign near Golden Canyon, Artist's Drive, Badwater pools, the medical room at the Dow Villa in Lone Pine, George and Kim working on a runner's feet, runners along the course headed toward Lone Pine, the Dow Villa sign that changes colors throughout the day, celebrating the finish with a "Badwater ale", bottom of Artist's Drive, sunset over Furnace Creek looking toward Stovepipe Wells, road looking back toward Badwater, 3 photos of rocks along Artist's Drive, Panamint Dry Lake Bed at halfway along Badwater course, outrageous red rocks going up Father Crowley's, view from Father Crowley's at sunrise, near Darwin with lone Joshua tree in background, colors around salt pan around 5 miles into the course, gold rocks near Artist's Drive, more gold rocks looking back toward Badwater, sunrise over Stovepipe Wells from the road up Townes Pass, Alene at the park entrance.