Hi Ben and Denise,     Following are myreflections on this year's Badwater race. Each year that I've done thisrace, something has happened that has touched me in some memorable way. Thisyear I felt compelled to pass these thoughts on to you and the otherparticipants if you like. I call it:A Badwater (Love) Story...     Duringthe post race ceremonies, Errol Jones was gracious enough to call on me to say afew words about the race. Since it was on the spur of the moment. I hadn't hadtime to reflect and say what I thought. Like how I learned where Errol got thenickname "Rocket." I knew Errol from the 1996 Badwater race as well asotherraces and his many ultrarunning accomplishments. The saga begins at sun up onthe second day coming down from Towne=sPass (59 miles) a couple of miles from the midway point in the race, 67 miles,near the Panamint Valley floor (67 miles). Earlier that night, Errol's crew hadstopped by me and asked if I had seen him so I knew he was in the vicinity. Justthen, I turned around and he came running up behind me. He opened theconversation by saying that he was having a bad day. He was somewhat incoherentand that, in my best calculations, was it possible to finish the race in under48 hours since we would be at the half way point in over 24 hours. He knew thathe could finish the race in the allotted time but was concerned that he would besubjecting himself to needless suffering if he didn't make the 48 hours. Well, Isaid I've had a bad day, also, but that we would probably have to get to OwensValley (100 miles) to get a better idea. That comment met with a moment ofsilence. At that point, we changed the subject and continued on. Nearing thehalf way point, I_ran over to my support vehicle and took a drink of somethingawful, turned around, and Errol was gone ... like a>rocket.=I looked down the road and saw a tiny figure off in the distance. Then, one ofErrol's crew ran up next to me and we chatted momentarily. Then, he said, I gotto go and catch that guy and stop him or he'll kill himself. With that, he tookoff and as far as I could see, Errol outpaced him and beat him to PanamintSprings Resort (72 miles). I stopped briefly at Panamint where Errol had decidedto take a break. Then continued on thinking and hoping that Errol would becatching up with me. At the Darwin turn off (90 miles), I looked back over myshoulder and didn't see him ... nor a sign of his support vehicle. At the startof Owens Valley (100 miles), where we were to recalculate our pace, I lookedover my shoulder one more time, this time with a tear in my eye thinking,knowing that the Demons must have gotten him. If they didn't, he surely would behear by now. My thoughts changed abruptly when a vehicle stopped in front of meand out jumped Denise Jones. She came running over to me saying "you devilyou... I knew I would see you running again," and at that, gave me a big hug ofencouragement. With that, I told my son who was crewing at the time, "throwawaythe Tylenol ... I won't need it anymore ... the end is in sight." On the waydown from the finish line, there was Errol on his way up. I immediately stoppedand offered what words of encouragement I could. It was a time of real joy, likeseeing someone come back to life. I really knew deep down that he would neverquit. My congratulations to all who participated in the race.     A very specialcongratulation goes out to Erika Gerhardt. I had the pleasure of gettingacquainted with her this past spring when Denise put her in touch with me because