Badwater Ultramarathon 2003_ A report by Mark Cockbain

The Badwater Ultra 135 is a non- stop footrace starting from Badwater, Death Valley, the lowest hottest point in the USA (since it is 282 ft below sea level) and rises over a distance of 135 miles to the highest point, Mount Whitney at 8,371 feet elevation. The race is held in mid July at the hottest part of the season (130F+,55C), with 13,000 ft of accent and 4,700ft of decent.

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Runners must cover every inch of the route on foot, and must be crewed by a vehicle with a minimum of two crewmembers, as the organisers provide no support. On July 21st 2003, I arrived in Death Valley with my crew Paul Ravenscroft and James D Carter. I had flown in from the UK, with my crew already based in New York , flew into LA.

We hired a mini van as our support vehicle, and stocked it with essentials ranging from iceboxes, food, equipment and approximately 150 litres of water. We noted that temperatures were already in excess of 100 F as we pulled into Furnace Creek at 2:30am!

There were three starting times for the race. 6,8 and 10am. I was in the 8am start a few miles down the road at Badwater, where we all assembled on the starting line ready for our photo-shoot. The 6am guys benefited from a few hours shade, but at least 8am start was better than the ‘no-shade; 10am slot.

The first checkpoint was around 17 miles away at Furnace Creek, where we had just come from, along side salty flat beds and the dry arid basin of Death Valley. Most of us set off at a steady pace to benefit from the few minutes shade we had from the mountains either side, but this didn’t last long, and we were soon subjected to the awesome strength of the Death Valley sun.

It was like a force trying to stop you in your tracks and we were all reduced to a very slow pace. This was no ordinary heat. It was a dry heat, with a fierce penetrating burning wind, similar to opening an oven door. Also, 15% humidity made it less dry than previous years and harder to cope with.

My crew would leapfrog me in the van and pass me ice cold water at the side of the road and throw ice towels over my back and wet my desert hat. It was obvious that they would have to stop at least every mile or less for this section of the race, as my temperature rocketed and my water was becoming warm within a few minutes.

Already I was already cramping due to excessive sweating and heat as I reached the Furnace Creek checkpoint at mile 17, so I began drinking electrolytes and icing my neck. My stomach muscle had cramped into a ball at the bottom of my ribs and looked like it was torn.

Temperatures were already exceeding 130f, and Jay Birmingham, a veteran of the race told me that getting through the next 40 miles of the race to Stovepipe Wells in the heat of the day was the key to the race.

I was now feeling very light headed and dizzy and I could see many other runners were also suffering at such an early point in the race, with 90% walking now, but I managed to stop my legs from cramping up and pushed on for a few more miles.

My crew continued spraying me with water to keep my clothes damp to assist cooling, but I was still overwhelmed by such an unfamiliar heat that I lost consciousness and collapsed.

My crew were not experienced at all, but acted like professionals and dragged me into the shade of the van like a sack of spuds where they revived me by dousing me with ice and water and putting the air conditioning on full blast. Apparently I had been out for around 10 seconds! With ice round my neck and under my armpits I soon felt much better, but this was a sharp reminder of why the conditions of this race rate it as the toughest in the world.

I continued to drink electrolytes and cool down until I was more focussed again. I had a lucky escape, but decided it was time to push on, very cautiously.
It was now a walk/run situation for the next 40 miles, as with all the competitors as we tried every cooling method in the book to struggle through the valley. Ice, wet towels, sprays, just to get me moving forward. This was to be a slow hard slog.
The effect of my heatstroke had also turned me deaf, and I also had another problem in the fact that I could not hold down solids or fluids and proceeded to vomit regularly. This was not good. My crew was concerned that I could end up totally depleted of fluids, if my internal organs didn’t manage to kick-start again soon. I had only taken about two litres in two hours of which I had thrown up at least one litre. I really needed about two litres per hour.

I moved on for a few more hours, bumping into other runners along the way. Each with his or her own techniques to help them through the race. Such as Joe Prusaitis from Texas, who was relying on regular meal stops of burger and chips to get through! Whereas my crew continued dousing me with wet towels and ice packs to wear around my neck.

I was now starting to absorb more fluids and ate a few energy gels to perk me up a bit. My crew was concerned that we were now running out of ice, and James stopped with me while Paul drove a few miles down the road to try and find some at the next village. He returned without any, as they had been cleaned out by previous crews, but word got down the line via a medic who managed to get some from another crew who’s runner had dropped out.

At around 35 miles I had reached sea level and pushed on through a sandstorm as night began to fall and I reached the next checkpoint at Stovepipe Wells. Here we learned that quite a few competitors had not made it through the previous section and had pulled out of the race.

After re-fuelling with a pot noodle I began my accent of a 17 mile hill to take us out of the valley, with around 5000ft of elevation.

I trudged up the hill all night long, occasionally passing crew and runners who all gave each other great support. At around 24hrs into the race and nearly to the top of the hill, I decided to get a few minutes power sleep and try and get some more food in my system. My body was now more stabilized because of the slight drop in night time temperature and it was only half an hour until sunrise again.

I finished my accent of the hill with the sun already overhead and looked back at the last 60miles of the road to hell. Only another 75 miles left to go! My feet were now badly blistered and the next winding downhill section back to the valley floor was a refreshing change, but also very painful.

Down and through the valley of ‘the moving rocks’, the temperatures had peaked again and the crew was worried about the time it was taking to get through the race.
I tried to pick up my pace running towards the next checkpoint at Panamint Springs. Runners who had now pulled out were passing by with their crews shouting lots of encouragement, including the other UK entrant Wayne Simpson who had suffered severe dehydration. Wayne had tried to get back on the course three times, but eventually succumbed to the heat. They put six bags of IV in him at the hospital.
I knew I had to keep ahead of the game and get out of the valley and over the next mountain range as quick as possible without burning out again.
A long steep winding set of switchbacks took me up and over the range in a few hours, the sun still beating down with enough power to expand the steel barriers at the side of the road giving a ‘ping’, ‘ping’ sound.
Joe and I took turns passing each other along the flat road that would eventually lead us all the way to the base of Mount Whitney at lone pine. With about 40 miles left to go, the he night was coming again and James moved on ahead to get another pot noodle ready for me.
I was now totally exhausted and Paul explained that the distance I gained during the night would be make or break for me.
My legs were now in agony and my feet on fire with deep blisters. I decided that I had to regularly cool my feet in a bucket of iced water and change socks if I was to get any further.

Darkness came and I forced myself to run at a decent pace to try and eat up the mileage. Hour after hour Paul gave me an update on the distance covered and my goal for the next hour. I was slowly getting through the miles, but mentally I was exhausted.
Paul gave me some of his double expresso and I soon began to focus again.
Over 40hrs into the race and I was struggling to concentrate. In fact I wasn’t completely sure what I was doing. I started to hallucinate, seeing a vivid set of giant squirrels along side the road and a deep-sea diver buried upto his neck in sand, complete with smiling face! The rocks and dunes continued to play tricks on me all through the night, but I was now making good time, and I was now more determined than ever.

Morning broke, and Paul said we really had a good chance now as long as I kept moving forward. I had even overtaken a few other competitors along the way and was predicted to reach Lone Pine at around 7am, which would allow the suggested 1 mile per hour required to get up the almost vertical 13 miles of Mount Whitney to the finish.
As predicted I made it into Lone Pine and civilization at 7am and luckily one of the checkpoint guys let us use his hotel room to cool of for half an hour before my accent of Mount Whitney to the finish.

It was going to be red-hot climbing the mountain, and my crew were not taking any chances and covered me with wet towels from the start. My legs were aching with the constant trudge up hill. I was now on autopilot, but knew that victory was just hours away.

Mount Whitney was beautiful. Waterfalls, greenery and an overwhelming smell of pine trees.
Joe came powering up the hill behind me and he was full of confidence as the end was nearing, Crews passed in their vans giving loads of encouragement, which made me more and more determined to finish.
After six hours of climbing the end was in sight!!!
Paul and James parked the van and joined me with a victory run across the line. I had made it!
I was also greeted with a bottle of champagne and a union jack by Wayne, who was back on his feet again after his IV who also walked the last few stages with me. His crew, who were clearly glad to see a Brit still in the race, helped us out with ice and encouragement. as everyone congratulated me on such an achievement.

I finished in 54 hours coming 40th in the field, which saw 46 finishers out of 75 starters. This was by far the biggest test for me so far. I had experienced a rollercoaster of emotions ranging from the sheer shock and frustration provided by such hostile conditions, to the sheer elation and relief of crossing the finish line.
The support has been amazing by everyone involved in the race from the marshals to runners and crews.

This was an amazing personal achievement for me only made possible by having the best crew that any competitor could have asked for. Thanks boys, I owe you one!

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