Rejection means the race director found you either not qualified or lacking what he is looking for in HIS race. Acceptance means you will spend a lot of money, ask your friends to sacrifice their time and efforts, and put yourself through pain and discomfort through 135 miles. Acceptance means you are invited to toe the line of 'the challenge of the champions.' Acceptance is scary, but what every applicant is dying to get!
The night before we left for Death Valley, I couldn't sleep. I was thinking about Badwater and what it would mean to get that coveted invitation to run. I was going as support for Team Jester and my friend Ed Ettinghausen was running his second Badwater. I was anxious to get started, and I wasn't running. Like I said before, Badwater has that affect.
Early issues with alarm clocks got our adventure started later than planned. We made it to the runner check- in with only minutes to spare. Immediately upon arrival, I noticed the amazing energy amongst the runners and crew members. Everyone greeted each other as old friends. It honestly reminded me of a high school reunion. One would never know these people represented the top teir of ultra runners and competitors.
After all the requirements were met and the briefs were attended, we went to the Badwater Basin for picture opportunities. The heat was more intense and the anxiety was palpable. Team Jester was ready to run!
The basin is interesting. The salt beds surround the platform and reach as far as you can see. The mountains around the area are vast and beautiful. That dry heat was all encompassing, all enveloping, and almost suffocating.
After a good night sleep in Beatty, Nevada, it was time to make our way to the start. The race includes 3 wave starts. Ed was in the last wave at 10:00 am. The fastest runners are placed in the 10:00 am wave. As we drove to the start line (back at the basin), Ed was doing his best to cheer and support each runner we passed along the way. Watching him was a great reminder of the ambassador he is for our sport.
After the National Anthem, the 10:00 wave began. Ed went out as the very last runner of his wave, as planned. His steady, comfortable pace seemed perfect to start the long journey that is Badwater.
The crew, on the other hand, was pretty excited. Everyone was all smiles and full of anxiety as we piled in the van to follow Ed along the first 17 miles. He was not allowed to have a pacer until Furnace Creek, mile 17. Every mile we all got out to offer aid as he needed it, record the moments, and cheer on the runners.
It really seemed like just a moment and we were at mile 17. At this point Mrs. Jester, Mini Jester, and I got in my car for the rest of the journey. I have to admit, I enjoyed hanging with them, but my heart was with the crew. I really wanted to run. bad.
The rest of the day was spent leap frogging with Ed and the crew vehicle. We gave them ice when they needed it, picked up their trash, and provided moral support. I was busy taking more than 400 pictures, updating friends, and recording temperatures as well.
Colby passed the time by plotting his own Badwater experience. When we had internet access he was researching the rules, records, and achievements of other young runners. His dreams were unfolding as he watched the runners go by. His excitement and positive spirit was uplifting to all.
Right before dark Martha got in the van with the crew. Colby and I kept up the leap frog adventure, staying 5 miles ahead of the van at any given time. Colby yelled and cheered for the runners. At dusk we were starting the first climb in elevation. The runners were 42+ miles into their journey.
As I sat in my car I could hear the runners (a lot of them power walking) go by and complain of their ailments to their pacers. They were getting tired, it was getting dark, and Badwater was getting hard. I got a little emotional hearing them. I knew how they felt. I haven't ran in their shoes, but I have traveled miles in my own that were full of fatigue and pain. I know what it is like to have your body want to stop, while your mind knows you have hours before you can rest. I was honored to be a part of their journey, however small it was. I tried to share encouraging words as they passed, longing to share the experience for myself one day.
I spent this time wondering how Ed was doing. Being so far away was tough. As the van would pass me every 5 miles, we would shout out to Ed and the crew, but never had the time to really see how things were going.
The hours and miles clicked by. The night was amazingly beautiful. We saw a high of 116 degrees and the night was cooling fast. I put my seat back and watched the stars through my sun roof. Runners continued to go by, now anonymous in the dark. The other sight to behold was the miles of car flashers on one side of the road and the runners' headlamps on the other, as far as the eye could see.
Colby passed out and I took cat naps for minutes at a time while we waited for the van and Ed to catch up. As they would pull up, we would drive ahead again. It was hard to be helpless and frankly, useless. I was there in case they needed me, but they didn't, so I felt left out. I couldn't update online because we were out of range, couldn't really take pictures in the dark, and couldn't see the runners anymore, so there wasn't much going on in our car. Colby had been asleep for hours, so I even lost my little cheering buddy.
At sunrise Martha got back in our car and we headed to Lone Pine to check in to a hotel. We were lucky enough to witness some of the front runners head toward Whitney Portal for their last 13 miles. After a shower and Facebook updates, we went back out to cheer for friends and heroes as they passed through.
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| Mike Miller looking strong in Lone Pine |
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| Dean Karnazes and his pacer |
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| Brian Recore and team in Lone Pine |
While we were waiting, Team Jester crossed the 100 mile mark in just over 23 hours.
After Lone Pine, Ed faced the toughest climb of the race. The last 13 miles to Whitney Portal and the finish line included steep elevation gain when most runners were beyond exhausted. Ed was struggling with a stomach issue that kept him from eating. Eventually the energy needed to keep a decent pace eluded him. The poor guy was visibly struggling. The crew rotated every 1/2 mile to give him a new pacer, new perspective, and a new push.
Ed was not the only one struggling with this last leg of the race. There was a runner weaving on the road. She was an amazing runner with one prosthetic leg. She had flown through Lone Pine, hours earlier, looking strong. Now, her leg was visibly bothering her. She almost fell several times. We held our breathe as she came by the van.
Colby was busy being the positive one. He kept reminding us that the finish line was a huge accomplishment and Ed had done so well. He wasn't going to beat his time goal, but he was a hero, nonetheless. As Colby's mom, it was pretty special to hear and see him cheer for Ed when he needed it most. I am not sure Ed was really aware of much more than the need to keep moving, but Colby didn't care. He yelled, cheered, and clapped all the way up the hill.
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The finish line was very special. You could see the fatigue and sense of accomplishment on Ed's face. You could see the sense of relief on Martha's. Team Jester was full of pride and admiration for Ed.
After sitting down for 2.5 seconds (not an exaggeration) Ed jumped up and (following his tradition from last year) gave each member of Team Jester a piggy back ride across the finish line. I was terrified he was going to break his back carrying me, but thankfully, he survived the ordeal. I wonder now which was harder, 135 miles across the desert or carrying our fat butts across the line? You'll have to ask him.
After he received his medal, official finisher shirt, and the coveted Badwater buckle, we all left the finish line area and headed for food. On the way back down the hill Ed was in cheer mode again. He leaned out of the van cheering for the runners struggling up the hill. Once again Ed displayed why so many admire him and appreciate his love for other runners.
We were relieved to reach the pizza joint for dinner. The poor guys had not had a real meal since Denny's, about 34 hours earlier. Pizza, war stories, and laughs were shared by all before we headed to the hotel.
I can't speak for the other guys, but Brady was a little tired. He took a shower and fell asleep, across the entire king sized bed, mid sentence. Apparently he worked hard out there.
The post race pizza party and awards ceremony was another unique and fun part of the Badwater experience. On Wednesday we were all back together in an elementary school cafeteria. Runners, crew, and race staff had the opportunity to celebrate Badwater achievements. There were many that were visibly sore, with taped up toes and stiff legs. Many wearing their buckles. All were smiling. Each runner was called up and their time announced. Stories of the PRs, winning times, and records broken were shared.
I know this blog post has been as long as the race itself. If you have made it this far, thank you for reading. I'll leave you with this: "None of us that ran this race can say we conquered Death Valley, but we did conquer something within ourselves." Double amputee and multiple Badwater finisher, Chris Moon
