Plantlife The Return Of Jack Splash Rar
Vida Hubbert
Although I am here, it was questionable a week ago. Excruciating back pain from a mean-spirited and jagged-edged kidney stone had me digging in my heels and white knuckling the rails of a gurney in an emergency room. A dose of morphine gave me temporary relief but during the week there was more pain as gravity continued to drag the cruddy little thing through my plumbing system. It is quiet now; knock on wood.
My goal is to be the first runner over sixty (I am 65) to ever-complete Badwater in less than forty-hours. For months, I averaged 120-miles a week and everyday baked in a 170-degree sauna. I am physically ready.
Our support van contains a large chest filled with dry ice, cubes and blocks. This is used to top off four smaller chests containing liquids of choice and two five-gallon coolers of water for drinking and spraying. If overheated, I will climb inside the large chest to cool off. Sizzle!
I will down one cold Ensure Plus every hour and an occasional Power Gel or GU. Every few miles I will hydrate with 16-ounces of cold Crystal Geyser water, PowerAde or a Starbucks Frappuccino (my preferred drinks). I will only carry an eight ounce spritzer of ice water. The mist I spray on my face and other hot spots is a refreshing coolant.
Since I only drink a thimble full on my daily runs, I have not over-hydrated. This will help avoid the numerous nasty water polluted health issues, which includes waddling down the road feeling sluggish and bloated. To eliminate any guesswork we use an electronic scale, which allows us to immediately adjust my hydration level and to help prevent cramping and dehydration I will take Endurolytes.
It is 105-degrees, humid and windy. To prevent moisture loss, I wear a long-sleeved Patagonia Capilene white shirt, matching pants and a shrouded hat. When it is really hot my crew, who will leapfrog me in the support van for the entire race, will soak me with cold water from a garden type sprayer.
The seven race time stations that are about twenty-miles apart are too much to grapple with. To compress the 135-miles into bite size comfortable mental running zones, I concentrate on the landmark and turnoff signage spaced every three to four miles. As weariness creeps in, I will shorten that distance by using the highway marked mile-posts and on the opposite side of the road, the alternating one-half mile-posts.
Nestled between the sculptured sand dunes and the multicolored segmented chiseled mountains is the Stovepipe Wells Resort (mile-42). The white metallic roof of this next time station shimmers in the distance and looks like a Star Wars movie outpost: desolate and eerie. Maybe aliens in the spacecraft that I have seen hovering in this area during previous Badwater races think so too.
The seven-miles that cross the Death Valley basin are mostly downhill and are usually run in oppressive, suffocating 130-degree furnace-like heat. But as I run past the Devils Corn Field and into Stovepipe Wells it is a comfortable and less punishing 120-degrees. Thumbs up for heat training.
After a splash in the small tepid pool, a Slippery Rock University research vampire team doing a volunteer study on dehydration drains a sample of blood. Since it will be dark soon, I strap red flashers on my arms and legs and begin to charge up the 16-mile mountain pass that has always been a monumental struggle.
Nine miles into this teeth gritting effort, I am concerned about a sharp twinge in my lower back. Terrific! The last thing I need is the kidney stone to rear its ugly head and curl me up on the ground with knife stabbing pain. Maybe it is just teasing me since it settles down after a few miles. Hopefully, the pounding on the pavement has either jolted it free or the liquids have washed it into my disposal system. Splash! Adios.
At his memorial in June, I promised family and friends that I would dedicate this Badwater race in honor of ultra running giant, friend and crewperson, Vincent Pedroia, who had just crossed his last finish line. This is swirling about in my head as I move straight up the pass into the billions of stars. Fortunately, Julie is walking with me because my heart is in my throat and I need her to lean on.
Near the bottom the winding road straightens and I see about fifteen crew vehicles strung out across the desert floor. The caravan of flashing red taillights energize me enough to handily finish this grade and trek across the salt basin and up the three-mile incline to the Panamint Springs Resort (mile-72).
Although the stark beauty in this area captivates and inspires, it remains a difficult climb. I have run this section in two hours but was totally drained. Today, I will walk at a two and a half-hour clip and after cresting have enough energy to keep on moving.
The next ten-miles of rolling hills are sprinkled with sagebrush, sparse yucca trees, dinosaur flashbacks and 110-degree heat. To feel at ease with the extreme fatigue that is assaulting me, I gear down into a one mile at a time mode.
At the one hundred-mile marker, we clip a water soaked white towel over my shoulders and I am cooler. I see the weather-beaten trailer park burg of Keeler on the edge of the dried out Owens Lake bed, eight miles in the distance. Burdened by the heavy towel, I am still able to run to its front doorstep, where I run out of gas. Sputter! Sputter!
While my wife power walks with me for the next nine miles, swirling winds filled with sand and extreme heat blow across the road and thrash us. Whoa! Not only is it difficult to breathe clean air, but this battering is taking its toll. As weariness sinks deeper into my body, it is now Badwater one half mile at a time.
Howie Stern, from Mammoth Lakes, CA arrives and relieves my wife. After shuffling into Lone Pine (mile-122) I ease my overheated body into the Dow Villa hotel pool. Minutes later after gorging on turkey slices and Starbucks doubleshots, I grudgingly begin the extremely steep final thirteen mile climb.
Just below the two long switchbacks we know that if we charge the last five miles a sub thirty-eight hour finish is possible. But, I am struggling with bone marrow penetrating fatigue, strained hamstrings, and a painful sciatica exacerbated by a chronic lumbar disc problem. Great!
At last, with only a few turns to go, this seemingly endless chore is almost over. My crew joins me and we cross the finish line holding hands, screaming and hollering. We have a mini celebration for the 37:48:35 finish. Yes! We did it. And it sure feels good.
Later after everyone is in bed and I soak in a whirlpool to begin the long recovery process, I realize that I owe this memorable finish to my crew for their relentless, unwavering and successful race management. Yeah team!
Thanks to Heidi and Cameron Steele, Carmen Kaplan, SCORE International, Barbie and Jim Riley for their support and the smiley face poster I taped to the back of the van, which gave me a buzz for two days.
Dear Chris,
I decided that you have to know about this. A few days after my return from my participation in the Badwater Ultramarathon, I received a large envelope in the mail. My wife, Laurel, opened it and started to cry. I could not believe that a class of children in Syracuse, NY, near where I live, completed a project on the California deserts. They sent me a 3 ring binder that has 29 letters to me from the students congratulating me on my race. They had followed the website and race closely. In so doing, they learned about computers, the deserts, and one very amazing athletic event. Attached are some examples of their work.
On September 24, 2007, Todd Baum and his wife visited the Dr. King School. They brought Badwater Ultramarathon hats for all the kids, plus race magazines and DVDs for the teachers. Here is the report by journalist Amber Smith from the local newspaper:
When he returned from the Badwater Ultramarathon, Baum received a packet in the mail of notes the students wrote, bound together in a notebook with pictures they printed from the Internet. It touched him.
Another student asked if he saw any animals along the way. Baum mentioned crows, a group that assembled in the shade, their beaks gaping open as if trying to stay cool. His wife, Laurel, part of his support group, told about the coyotes and roadrunners.
I explained that you, Mr. Kostman, were also very happy to see the work they did. I explained that the Mojave Desert and the Badwater Ultramarathon are very important to you, and that you are very happy to see them, the students, learning about the deserts and the race. I went on to say that the runners are not the only participants in the race, that each runner has a crew, and that they, the students, were also participants in the race since they learned so much and came to appreciate what a special place the desert can be. I told them you had sent them gifts. It was really an exciting time.
I have done the Badwater Race twice officially and once as a solo runner outside of the race. I have also started the race once, having to drop out due to a knee injury from a biking accident before the race. In addition I have volunteered, having been a course marshal and on a medical team. Consequently, I have seen the race from several perspectives.
Each race has been different, in part because of my advancing age (66 in 2007, five years after my first Badwater race in 2002), the effects of which I resist acknowledging. The solo race was by far the best in terms of energy level, freedom from pain and distress, relaxation and enjoyment. What I did miss, however, was the accompaniment of other runners. Perhaps the solo not being in a competitive environment was a big plus. The 2007 race was memorable too because of several distinct phases.
During the miles up to Stovepipe Wells, I felt good, strong, and pushed the pace a bit. However, my left hip kept hurting, and by Stovepipe Wells, every step hurt. Luckily, I had a chiropractor on my crew. He worked on my hip for about an hour until he got it fixed, and it never bothered me for the rest of the race!
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