JIM BENIKE’S BADWATER 2001 STORY“My Time in the Desert, the Badwater 135”       It’s a 135-mile road race. Okay, but 135miles is longer than I had ever run.  There are no aid stations so one wouldneed at least a four-person crew and two vehicles.  Okay, I’ll get acrew.  Westarted at 280 feet below sea level and finished at 8,340 feet including goingto 5,000 feet twice for over 13,000 total feet of climb.  Okay, maybe I candoit.  The average high temperature is 115 degrees and the low is 87degrees. Well, now I’m scared. For the past nine months I had thought of the Badwater 135every day and night.  I had signed up for one of the world’s toughest footraces.  I bought the movie, “Running on the Sun” documenting the 1999race.  Ihad never seen such blisters, puking, and excellent runners talkingincoherently.  I read everything about the race and visited the race’sexcellentweb site: at:http://www.badwaterultra.com     The race goes from Badwater, the lowest point in the Western Hemisphere, throughDeath Valley during the hottest week of the year, to Mt. Whitney Portals.Although not part of the race, one can get a permit to go to the top of Mt.Whitney, at 14,497 ft., the highest point in the Continental US. Wow!  How todoit all?  The hard-drive of my brain was flashing overload.  The Mt.Whitney hikewould take 12 to 15 hours.  It would be a difficult long day by itself … butafter 135 miles?  I read several hiking reports and books.  The Mt.Whitney hikewas considered a separate event. I packed for the ascent.  My pack would beready to go at Whitney Portals. My lottery permit was for Friday, which gave methe freedom to start as early as midnight or a practical late start of noon. With the Mt. Whitney planning out of the way I could concentrate on the Badwater135.      Since Badwater is a road race, trainingwas just miles and more miles. Every time I looked at the end of my driveway there were an infinite number ofroads to run, but how much was enough or too much?  An injury would wreckmonthsof planning and training.  Training for heat was another problem tosolve. There are many ways to heat train.  One method is to work out in a saunaincreasing the temperature gradually to 160 degrees.  Working out in a saunatothe same temperature as cooked meat didn’t sound reasonable. Two weeks beforethe race I started wearing more clothing on my daily training runs.  Startingwith a black, long-sleeve, poly top I was eventually wearing three layers ofblack clothing.  The same gear as running at 20 degrees in the winter. 

Thetopper was the black wool stocking cap.  After a few miles my brain felt likepopcorn in a microwave oven.  I was at my limit. If Badwater were hotter,then Iwould be cooked. Fluids, food, clothing, and medical gear were the main elementsfor race day.  Clothing was easy: two sets of CoolMax T-shirts with blackcompression shorts, a few pairs of socks, one pair of NB 1220 road shoes and aSun-Precautions desert type white hat.  Exposed skin would get a coat of 30SunBlock.  The medical kit was a big bag with a variety of tapes, ointments,New-Skin, needles, Band-Aids, and Succeed capsules. We bought the food in LasVegas.  The full shopping cart had almost everything I had ever eaten at anultra.  I wasn’t sure what would taste good during the race. Fluids wereeasy:ten gallons of water, two gallons of Succeed, and four liters of Coca-Cola. After adding the crew’s food and fluids we had to tie two suitcases onto theroof of the rented Ford Expedition. By lottery I would start at 6:00 AM. Otherstarts were 8:00 and 10:00 AM.  The 6:00 AM was the coolest start but the10:00AM start had the advantage of knowing all the other runners’ checkpoint times.At 6:00 AM it was 90 degrees. The sun hadn’t cleared the mountains yet to startbaking Death Valley.  The early miles were fun.  I met a few people andplayed agame of leapfrog with runners and pace cars.  My son, Aaron, and daughter,Lorraine, were crewing me for the first ten-hour shift.  My wife, Lorraine,son-in-law, John Kulas, and daughter-in-law, Allison, and grandsons, Austin,Jordan, and Carter, were back at Furnace Creek Ranch. This was the seventeenmile check point where they cheered me on.  The checkpoint was just a personwith a clipboard.  No stopping, just a verbal acknowledgement as I ran by.By now the race was getting a rhythm.  The crew knew when Ineeded fluids. Thetemperature was rising.  The next checkpoint was Stovepipe Wells at mile 41.At118 degrees leaving Stovepipe Wells, the valley was slow and hot.  I knewtherewere two runners ahead of me but I couldn’t see their pace vehicles.  Therewasno one close behind me.  I was alone on the road with my pace vehicle and theheat.  I won’t see another runner until dark near the Panamint Springscheckpoint.      Townes Pass summit at 4,965 feet markedthe end of the long hot walk out ofStovepipe Wells. Ahead of me was six miles of steep downhill.  The sun hadslipped behind the West Mountains and it felt almost cool although it was 102degrees.  It was time to run.  The grade was almost too steep but itfelt goodto be pounding down the road.  My knees got a little sore so I eased upbecauseI had only completed the easy half of the race.      Several hours ago I came up with my raceplan.  This race was so differentwith checkpoints about 25 miles apart and few major landmarks other than roadsigns.  I was used to running from aid station to aid station four to tenmilesapart.  Sometimes my crew vehicle was stopping every quarter mile.  The

VermontTrail 100 race popped into my mind.  I had run this race in 1994 and 1995 anditwas hot with miles of road running.  My time averaged 21 hours for 100miles. My plan was to complete the first 100 miles in 21 hours.  I knew that thelast13 miles were all up hill and almost everyone walked to the finish line.  Myonly problem was the 22 miles after the first 100 miles.  But at least I hadagoal although 100 miles was still a long way away.      As I neared Panamint Dry Lake I couldfinally see the taillights of a pacecar miles ahead.  Supper was a seven-minute break in Panamint Valley. The sunshining across the dry sand lakebed surrounded by pink-purple mountains wasbeautiful.  My eyes were enjoying the beauty but the rest of my body wastiredand sore.  Still it was 100 plus degrees. I passed Rudy Afanador a milebeforePanamint Springs Resort.  He was at the side of the road dressed in fullwhiteswith his head down and not looking good.  In a few minutes he passed me justahead of the checkpoint. He headed back to the crew vehicle after saying no onewas ahead of us.  A short time later, wearing shorts and a singlet, he passedmeagain in the dark speed-walking that long uphill to 5,050 feet.  I would seethetaillights of his crew vehicle moving further away the rest of the night.  Hewould be the only runner I would see until the race ended.      The Darwin checkpoint at 5,050 feet wasjust a guy under a canopy. It waseasy to see if you are the only person on a dark road but my crew vehicle neversaw the checkpoint.  From Darwin it was a gradual 17 miles downhill. Goodrunning. There ware a million stars in the sky. It was 70 degrees.  It feltalmost cold, as it was a 50-degree temperature change on my body.  My crewcheered me on as I hit the 100-mile mark at 21:35 hours.  Not bad. Only 35minutes off my goal.      The new goal was Lone Pine.  Thenext 9 miles were gradually downhill butnow my legs and back were sore.  My stomach was upset. I was retching besidetheroad and I could feel two blisters on my left foot. I hadn’t sat down in threehours. I told Aaron and Allison I needed a 15-minute nap but not to let meoversleep as I crawled into the back seat with my Mt. Whitney gear as apillow. Leg pains woke me every five minutes.  Aaron drained and taped my blisters.Thiswas his first experience at blister repair.  He reminded me later that myfeetweren’t too sweet after 23 hours in the same socks.  It was now dawn. I hadfresh socks, taped blisters, and my stomach felt good. I was running down theroad again but now I faced 11 miles of flats. The sun was heating the road upagain. My body was extra sensitive to the heat and it seemed like it tookforever to make any progress. I would just run to the next road sign.  Thiswas