Date:     Sat, 18 Sep1999 13:15:31 EDTFrom:    BodyConst@aol.comTo:        badwaterbj@qnet.comBen,     I wanted you toread this and share with the other runners if you would.Joe Decker     During races, allthe attention is focused on the competitors.  Who is in first or whereis soand so?  Are they going to break the record?  Lets get a pictureof therunners for the newspaper.  Wow, they look great this far into therace.     Why do they lookso good?  Who has helped them maintain the lead or even kept themgoing. The unspoken always giving and sacrificing individuals not in the limelight.  The Crews: The Real Heroes.     This is a story ofone such crew member who helped an inexperienced runner complete theBADWATER 135.     In the fall of1998 I was introduced to an incredible man named Greg Jenkins. At the time Iwas a personal trainer and he became a client of mine. He wanted me toprepare him for an upcoming caribou hunting trip in the arctic. I figured nobig deal.  That was until I found out both of the man's knees had beendestroyed in motorcycle and car accidents.  This man had died and comeback twice. Icouldn't believe this guy was even walking.  But train we did,Sometimeswalking on the treadmill at a pace of 5‑6 mph with an incline of15%.  Don'task how.     This"should-have-been-crippled-man"inspired me.  I was contemplating running a 100-mile ultra at thetime.  Ihad just finished my first, the JFK 50. I was a little nervous. I didn'tknow if I could do a hundred. I told myself if this man with broken kneeswho never ever complained could hike hundreds of miles across the tundra,well I should be able to run a 135 miles.     I ran my idea byGreg. He said not only was he sure I could do it, but he would go with me tomake sure I finished.  So I applied, eventually got invited and startedpreparing for the race.  Greg built me a special room in his storageshed totrain.  It had an industrial gas heater on the ceiling, 5000 watts ofhalogenlamps hanging over me, floor heaters, a dehumidifier and a treadmill. Ithought, "Thanksa lot Greg for the torture chamber." But train in it I did, hour afterhour.The time came to leave.  Greg had spent hundreds of hours and thousandsofdollars getting our support vehicle ready.  There were so many

modificationsto that vehicle I can't even begin to list them all.  Then he gotsuppliesout the wazoo and everything he could possible think of which  wouldbenefitus in the desert.  Greg's nickname had been "OKJenkins.""OK"standing for overkill.  We had more food and first aid supplies than anarmygoing to combat. We looked like the Beverley Hillbillies leaving Marylandheading out for Death Valley. We stopped in IL and picked up my brotherGreg. To avoid confusion, my brother Greg was to be called"Shag" and GregJenkins was to be called "Yukon."What a trip. You can imagine three guys in an extended cab truck togetherfor over 2000 miles.  I need say no more. We arrived in Death Valley acouple days before the race.  Yukon immediately went to work gettingeverything laid out properly.  Food went here, the generator wentthere,first aid supplies went over there. Nothing was left to chance. We wereprepared.      Race day: Shag andYukon have the vehicle ready. They both tell me they know I can dothis. Yukon tells me to think of it as a 1000 hundred meter dashes and itshouldn't be that bad.  He also tells me to remember, It's dry heat."Yeah right," Greg.Through the entire race they both were incredible.  They changed myshoesand socks, made me eat, drink, and kept me motivated.  They were by mysideevery minute.  Never once did they let me out of their sight. At mile41, Iwas feeling pretty rough. Yukon pulled out the portable shower and bathed melike a father would a son.  He told me, you'redoing great, I know you can do it. Shag fed me and we were on our way.      At roughly 0400 AMinto the first night I started to bonk.  They were there, always by myside.  For a brief moment I lost sight of them around a corner. It was verydark. I was zoning.  Then I heard this loud noise and saw I brightlight. Ithought, "Whatthe hell is that?" Rounding the bend, I see Yukon and Shag standing inthemiddle of the road. Bob Seeger was blaring and halogen lights were lightingup the entire night. They both have their shirts off and are synchronizeddisco-dancing like two raving mad men. "Oh my god, this can't bereal." Itwas real and extremely funny too.  It helped to lighten the atmosphereandgot me going. It primarily helped me to get away from these two.     Mile 110. Yukoncuts the sides out of my shoes to relieve the pressure.  My feet are soswollen.  He tells me to keep going. You can do this.     Mile 130.  It'smidnight. I've been running for 30 some hours now.  My feet are numb.