LYNNE WERNER: BADWATER 2000 STORY The Relatively Uneventful Badwater 2000     I started the 2000edition of Badwater as a nervous first time runner. I trained as best Icould, running many hours in multiple layers of clothing in Seattle'stepid summer climate or pacing in the sauna. I covered as many miles aspossible on terrain similar to that in Death Valley. I compulsively plannedfor every contingency, surfing the Web and driving my car to buy and to testthe right equipment and supplies. I made lists and wrote out directions andannoyed my crew reviewing the details. I adjusted my training and planningafter the Memorial Day training clinic in Death Valley.  I should havefeltconfident, but I had never actually run 135 miles in Very High Temperatures(VHTs) and had no way of knowing whether I would be sick or faint orhallucinate or collapse of exhaustion as I had heard that so many had. As itturned out, I did not do any of those things. With the help of my crew andthe encouragement of Race Director Chris Kostman, Dana Prieto Tanaka, andDenise and Ben Jones, as well as Denise Jonesblister advice, I finished with some new to me blisters and a few funnystories in a better than anticipated time with my crew still speaking to me.My crew members were my daughters Lauren and Alexis, Lauren'sfriend Alana, and my husband David. We lost two other crew members justbefore the race. Lauren, Alana and Alexis are all marathoners; David hascompleted several ultras. My family is experienced in crewing and pacing meat ultras, including Western States and a handful of 24 hour runs. The planwas for them to take turns pacing me. Our major problem was that neither ofmy daughters has a driver'slicense, leaving us with two cars and, with the loss of the two crewmembers, just two drivers. We had worked out a scheme for shuttling the carforward so that Alana and David could do some pacing while the others crewedme from the van, but we were not altogether confidentthat the scheme would work. I was also worried about my decision to start at8:00 AM. All the Badwater veterans had requested the 6:00 AM start, but Iknew from previous experience that no part of my body below the neckbelieves that it is morning, or breakfast time, at 3:00 or 4:00 AM. So Idecided to get up at my normal time, hit the buffet at the Furnace CreekRanch and head out to the start feeling comfortable. I still worried. Thestart of the race was like the start of any race. I was nervous before andrelieved after. The trip from Badwater to Stovepipe Wells (41 miles) passeduneventfully for me, although unbeknownst to me, my crew was having someproblems with the VHT's. For the first part, I had the company of otherrunners. I enjoyed the scenery. I got a fresh desert hat and Keep Coolbandana soaked in ice water every couple of miles. That, with insulatedbottles of my icy sports drink mix, seemed to help me deal with the VHT's.Anice cream bar at Furnace Creek (17 miles) went down easily. A can of Ensuredid not  feel so good. At supper time, I reached Stovepipe Wells (41miles),washed down a turkey sandwich and granola bars with a very cold Mountain Dewand felt fine. I was tired but happy to have reached that point and lookingforward to nightfall. We headed up toward Towne=sPass (59 miles). The sunset, filtered through the smoke from the forestfires, was beautiful. After about 25 miles, my crew had things organizedenough that they could start taking turns pacing me. It was nice to have thecompany, but the VHT's took their toll on both of my daughters. While Laurenrecovered fairly quickly, Alexis continued to feel quite ill. Sometime after

dark, Alana had to shuttle her up to the Pass where David was trying tosleep in the car, so that Alexis could rest undisturbed while I climbed. Theclimb to Towne'sPass is one of my favorite memories of the race. Once it was dark, the skywas incredibly star filled. I have never seen the Milky Way so distinctly.Looking up took my breath away. I looked down once and saw a scorpionscuttling along on the white line at my feet as if he too were in a race.Lauren and Alana took turns pacing, and although I cannotremember what we talked about, in all it was a pleasant night. I arrived atthe Pass to chicken noodle soup, heated on the camp stove we'd worried overbefore the race, and crackers. Despite pre taping my feet and compulsivesock and shoe changes, my usual heel blisters were starting up, so I got torecline on the back seat of the van while Lauren and Alana collaborated onapplying Second Skin and re taping my feet. Scott McQueeney came by at thispoint to say "hi" on his way to a nap. David drove Alexis toPanamintSprings (72 miles) so she could sleep some more with instructions to Alanato come pick him up as soon as I started running again. I put on the biggershoes I had brought to wear on the downhill and took off. As usual, I ranpretty fast downhill, so the time between crew stops was too short for Alanato drive to Panamint Springs and back to retrieve David for nearly an hour.Lauren was trailing me down the hill and decided to take a break after aboutsix miles. Around that point I started to notice that my right big toe wasrubbing on my shoe, but I thought that the hill was nearly done and did notworry about it. Three miles later, the hill finally ended, but my toe wassore and I was in a foul mood by the time I spotted David heading toward mefrom the van. I was able to run and walk across Panamint Valley. My toe feltbetter. Eventually my mood improved. The break at Panamint Springs was alittle hard. It was 3:00 AM.. Lauren and Alexis were asleep. Other runnerswere coming in and heading to their rooms or to the hospitality suite whileI sat in the van getting cheese and crackers down. I knew I should head out,but kept worrying that I was doing something wrong because no one else wasstarting up the Panamint Grade. Finally, I put on fresh, bigger shoeswithout looking at my toe. David and I started the long walk up the nexthill with Alana in attendance. Again, the climb was pleasant. Walking is abreak, even uphill, or at least that is what I tell myself. David and Igabbed the rest of the night away. Gradually the sky lit up again and wecould see the impressive view across the valley behind us and a few runnersstarting up the grade. I do notremember going on alone, but, at some point, David and Alana went back toPanamint Springs to pick up Lauren, Alexis and the car. Alana finally got tosleep for awhile. Lauren took up the pacing duties as we were approachingFather Crowley'sPoint (80 miles). I have several nice memories of this part of the race.Chris and Dana stopped to say "hi" and to tell me that I was doingwell. Oneof Ruben Cantu'screw members yelled to me that I was making Seattle ites proud; I recognizedhim as Mike Devlin whom I had met at Western States training camp last year.The encouragement really helped. Nicest of all, a little past FatherCrowley'spoint, I was able to start running the flats and down hills just as DeniseJones had predicted. Fortunately, I felt good as I pulled over to changeback into my desert suit shortly after sunrise, because this time it was thesight of my right big toe that took my breath away. The blister under thetoenail was nearly as impressive as the scenery. My crew and I gawked for afew seconds. Then I decided that if I had been running on it five minutesago, I would be able to run on it now. I put on my shoe and sock and headed

down the road to the Darwin turnoff (90 miles). This section of the coursewent slowly. I was sure that every sign I saw was the second 5000 ft.elevation sign, only to be disappointed as I got close enough to read thesign. My toe started to bother me, and I told Lauren that I would just haveto walk the rest of the way to the Darwin turnoff. Shereplied that it might be more efficient to fix my toe right away, so that Icould run. I had been looking forward to a long walking break, but consented tohave the necessary toe surgery. With the toe fix accomplished, I took a fewhobbling strides and was able to run comfortably (well, as comfortably as couldbe expected) again. The Death Valley National Park boundary went by, and finallywe arrived at the Darwin turnoff around 9:30 in the morning. I sat down in theshade of the van to breakfast on a turkey sandwich. I tried David'sjalapeño potato chips, but they were too much even for my cast iron gut. I hadto settle for tortilla chips. I made the mistake of asking the timekeeper aboutmy position in the race; he told me that I was the third woman, 45 minutesbehind Lisa Smith. As I ran out of the time station, I was mad at myself knowingthat I might overtake the woman in front of me. That meant that I would have tokeep running. I remember the trek through Owens Valley as being long and hot andI was intermittently grouchy. The VHTs were more annoying to me than they hadbeen the day before. It was hazy. The scenery did not interest me. There was toomuch traffic and the cars were going too fast. I was sure they were going to runover my crew. I followed my brother in law'scommand to his dog and frequently yelled "Over!" to get a crew memberoff theroad. My eyes started to sting. I realized that I had neglected to clean mycontact lenses, so I ran without corrective lenses, hoping that I could at leastsee the approaching cars. Every time that I stood still for more than a fewseconds, I could feel my feet swelling in my shoes.  I had no intention ofquitting, but I was not happy. Luckily, I still had little trouble wolfing downthe Cheetos and strawberries and cookies, so even my bad mood could beenergetic. Finally, my right toes were rubbing together painfully, but I had nolarger shoes. I tried Alexis'one size larger shoes, but they were too small. We talked about sending Davidinto Lone Pine (122 miles) to buy some bigger shoes, but I was afraid thatwhatever size he bought would still be too small. Finally, I suggested thatDavid loan me his "sneakers," a pair of old running shoes that he hadbeenwearing to knock around in for maybe ten more years. I think my crew was tryingto humor me, but they helped me lace up David'ssize 11 shoes. I could not run very well in my "clown" shoes, but theyfelt sogood that, for a short while at least, my pacers and I shuffled along singingcamp songs and commercial jingles. Unfortunately, I still had a long way to gothrough Owens Valley. The newly spread asphalt was still hot, but at least brokethe monotony. I was relieved that the work crew had gone home so that my crewwould be able to stop for me along the four mile stretch of road construction.After awhile I could see where the road turned to head into Lone Pine, but wenever seemed to get any closer. A few faster runners who had stopped to takebreaks passed me. Keeler (108 miles) seemed a much more extensive town on footthan it had by car. I became convinced that I would not be able to break 48hours. Fortunately Alexis was feeling better and back on duty. She finally mademe understand that I must have read my watch wrong. Even so, it became more andmore difficult to keep telling myself, "All you have to do is get to LonePine."Mt. Whitney loomed and I was having trouble not worrying about it. Rapid moodchanges were the theme through Owens Valley and past Lone Pine. We finallyreached the "traffic light in Lone Pine" just before 8 PM. I passed LisaSmith,