Crewing the Badwater 135
Left to Right: Stefan, Jeanelle, Danny, MJ & Anastasia
Badwater 135 Crewing Recap
Runner: Danny Manimbo
Crew:
Jeanelle Kutz: Crew Chief
Anastasia Rolek: Chief Pacer
MJ Manimbo: Crew/Pacer
Myself (Stefan Schuster): Crew/Pacer
The Badwater 135 probably has the most unique setup in all of ultrarunning. The most obvious differences between Badwater and most other ultras are that it takes place on concrete roads as opposed to trails and does not provide aid stations. These differences make for a unique environment because crews, who basically live in their cars for the duration of the event, spend the entirety of the event leapfrogging their runner to provide support every 1 – 3 miles. If you read this and think “every 1 – 3 miles is so short,” I would typically agree with you, but Badwater is not a typical race.
Although Badwater now starts in waves on a Monday evening (at 8:00, 9:00 and 10:00), Badwater Basin remains a scorching 110 degrees (or more). Considering our year crewing was a “cold” year is mind boggling because it was still that hot at 8pm, when our runner Danny Manimbo toed the line. Do keep in mind, Badwater schedules its event on the Monday when the first full moon of the month is, so in 2025 the event fell on Monday, July 7th. This is relatively early for Badwater and the end of the month is typically hotter.
For reference, our crew split into two “groups” before the race began. Jeanelle and I began the race as crew for Danny at the starting line while Anastasia & MJ waited for us at a hotel at Stovepipe Wells (Mile 42). The reason for this was so that two of the crew members could get some sleep on night #1, while Jeanelle and I stayed up all night tending to Danny’s needs. I specifically requested to begin the race with Danny because I wanted to make sure his nutritional needs (being that I am a Dietitian) were being met and GI issues were being avoided in the first 24 hours of the event. My hypothesis was that this was the most important part of the event to manage nutrition, since everyone wants to begin the race strong (and it is very hot at the start), and because the afternoon of day 2 (about 16 hours into the race) is when most athletes pass through the hottest part of the course, Panamint Springs. I knew I would sufficiently stay awake for that long and wanted to make sure I did my job best at those parts of the course. I believed that going into night 2, with our runner done with the hottest part of the course, and in a rhythm would mean less problems to solve. Less problems to solve means less necessity for me to be awake, meaning I figured I could get some sleep on night 2. Also, our crew thought it would be best if the primary pacer (Anastasia) gets some sleep before pacing for an expected 50+ miles. I was not the primary pacer because of running WSER a week prior; I did not want Danny relying on me, given that recovery in this sport can vary by person and by event. Anyways, now that you have some context for our crew plan, let’s get back to race details.
The first unique challenges of crewing begin when the race does and crews are faced with two questions:
1) How far up the road should we meet our runner for the first time?
2) How will our runner recognize our crew vehicle from all the others? And how will we differentiate our runner from all the other blinding headlamps shining at us?
For question number 1, I recommend meeting your runner about 2 miles down the road. Our crew (Jeanelle and I) met Danny at mile 3, which in the heat was too long to meet him. When we saw Danny, both his 500mL bottles were dry and so was the ice in his bandana. After this stop, we began meeting Danny every 2 miles for the remainder of the first night. Also, one very helpful resource for determining where we were going to meet Danny was the runner guide everyone gets at check-in. This guide has multiple pages that are specifically dedicated to telling crews where appropriate places to park alongside the road are. Just remember to set your odometer when you leave the starting line area as crew.
For the second question, we did two things. First, we held up an electronic sign that read “Danny” in big, bright, bold letters. This made it easy for Danny to differentiate us from other crews. For spotting our runner; well, that was a bit harder. Jeanelle and I definitely thought we saw Danny a few times, but it ended up not being him. We joked that Danny should yell “Ka-Kaw!” like a bird every time he was close to us. It’s just hard to see someone’s face (even if we had a flashlight) when their flashlight is blinding you.
One thing that was interesting from the beginning of the race was that when Jeanelle and I were trying to spot Danny, we were unsure if we should cheer on other runners. On initial thought, it’s obvious that you want to support athletes and offer encouraging words, but when we did that, runners would just look at us with blank stares. It happened so many times, we stopped saying anything and let runners flow by in the dark of night. We thought maybe they were just tired of speaking in such an intense environment and with so many crews out there saying something to them. I would personally attest that it can be tiring on out-and-back courses like the Leadville 100 to enthusiastically say “good job” or “nice work” to 700 other runners when you are in the middle of an event. I actually wish it was more acceptable to not say anything to other athletes in scenarios like that, but I can’t help but feel guilty when I don’t say anything.
When Jeanelle and I did see Danny, we would usually bring over an assortment of items for him. Keep in mind, at Badwater, you must park on the right side of the road (the side you drive on), but you can cross the road to meet your runner, meaning you need a way to carry many small items easily. We did so with the use of a portable container that had multiple compartments, kind of like a toiletry kit/bag. Usually, we put two new water bottles in there (one with Skratch/electrolytes and another with water), some fruit, a gel, small avocado rolls, some lube and anything else Danny requested. The portable kit was very helpful and I highly recommend other crews use that at Badwater. We would also usually take a fresh ice bandana or ice in a cup over to Danny to put into his hat, and/or a spray bottle to cool him off. If we didn’t have something Danny wanted, he would usually grab it from us at the next meeting point and not waste time stopping for it.
These activities are basically what the first night of crewing Badwater consisted of. Drive two miles, fill bottles, grab anything else Danny needed, and then try to spot him in the dark of night. From time to time, I would cook ramen on the side of the road with a little camping stove, which is permitted in the national park as long as it has an on/off switch (just no actual fires). I recommend crews consider bringing one of these to cook foods like ramen for themselves or for their runners. Danny only ate ramen once, but when the crew is confined to a vehicle for the duration of the race (30-48hrs for most participants), it’s nice to be able to make hot food at your own convenience, even if it’s 100 degrees outside. Your only alternative option for food on course is to buy food when you pass through places like Panamint Springs or Lone Pine.
One of the things crews should do to make night one easy is organize your crew vehicle ahead of time. We organized the back of our van by, on the left side, putting a cooler sideways (vertically) (to save space). We used this cooler for mostly crew items (we needed cold food + beverages too!). In the middle of the trunk, we also put a 3-tiered storage bin (a cheap one from Walmart we bought) to organize items for Danny. On the top compartment, we put water bottles. In the middle compartment, we stored a ton of Skratch (which Danny used for electrolytes). In the bottom compartment, we stored extra ice bandanas, electrolyte + caffeine pills and miscellaneous items. At Badwater, there is not much gear that needs to be changed since it’s always hot, compared to a mountainous ultra where it can be 80 degrees during the day and 20 degrees at night. Not much clothing was needed to be stored. Anyways, finally on the right side of the back of car, we had another cooler (a huge and awesome Yeti one) to store ice for Danny. We also stored this vertically to save space (Note: if you would like a better visual, check out the YouTube video I made from the race and you will see how we set up our trunk: https://youtu.be/8mvkoCrgR2A?si=ye_IWbc4Tw2JT-ix). We used the remainder of our trunk space for crew stuff; bags of clothes, snacks (hey we gotta eat too), gallon water bottles, extra sports drinks and of course, Red Bull. In the middle of the car, we allocated one of the three middle seats to one of those 10 gallon Gatorade water coolers. In it, we stored water + ice. Electrolytes were measured out separately.
If someone reading this is wondering how/where we got our supplies, Danny brought the three coolers from Denver as checked bags. Inside of them, he put his nutrition products. It felt odd to check coolers as bags in the airport, and I questioned the necessity at the time, but it was a good call on Danny’s planning. You absolutely need a trustworthy cooler for this race; preferably two + something to dispense cold water into your water bottles. From the looks of it, other crews had a similar setup. Things like the storage bin were cheap from Walmart. The race offered a donation area at the end, where we could put stuff like that instead of tossing it.
Alright, now that you have more context about the race, crewing and planning, back to the Badwater event. The first 42 miles of the course roll gently compared to the rest of the course, which seems to always be going up or down. The first 42 miles do have some rolling hills though, which can be deceivingly hard when running at night. Danny reported this mentally bothered him at times. Danny also ran 100-120 miles per week in training and his taper week was 80 miles. He said his legs felt heavy at the beginning of the race and in retrospect, that was likely why (so make sure to actually taper, you crazy Badwater kids). Still, Danny very consistently banged out 5mph splits for almost the entire first 50 miles, which was his goal. Cutoffs at Badwater do exist; though they get progressively easier as the race goes on. The first cutoff is at mile 50.8, at the 2,000 foot elevation marker, and participants must arrive there by 10:00am (regardless of wave start), which was 14 hours into the race for Danny.
I should note that at mile 17.4, Furnace Creek, Jeanelle and I stopped at the gas station (which is a race checkpoint all runners must check-in at) to buy additional ice. We also bought more when we got to Stovepipe Wells at mile 42, which was crucial because there is nowhere to buy ice after this point until mile 72, Panamint Springs. This section of the course, from mile 42 to 72 is the hottest, so make sure you are well prepared.
When Danny arrived at Stovepipe Wells, mile 42, it was still dark but hints of light on the horizon indicated that the sun was beginning to rise. Here, Danny was able to use a real bathroom and pick up Anastasia as a pacer. These two things were important because if you don’t use a real bathroom at Badwater (as runner or crew), you have to poop in a shit bag; literally a plastic bag you poop in. Needless to say, nobody wanted to use it, so we clenched our buttcheeks as long as was needed. Second though, Anastasia had paced this race once before and provided Danny a significant mental boost. Though he was moving well and passed through mile 50.8 in just over 10 hours, he was mentally fatigued. He said his legs felt heavy all night which forced him to expend a lot of mental energy pushing through the first night. I think he was also intimidated that the first major climb of the race was coming up. It did not help that we had driven the course ahead of the race (you have to) twice. The first time was going from the Las Vegas airport to Lone Pine (where race headquarters and check-in is). The second time is driving from Lone Pine to the starting line (which everyone has to do). Seeing almost the entirety of your 135 mile race laid out before you is overwhelming; I can tell you it was even as crew. Driving 120 miles of the course makes the distance look much harder than it usually is. Also, for reference, the first climb of the race is 17 miles + 3,000 feet up Town Pass, which Danny was about to do.
If you are training for Badwater, I highly recommend you incorporate runnable uphills and downhills into your training. None of the climbs at Badwater are very steep, but they are very, very long. The climb up Town Pass is a great example of this. And even if you live in a place like Boulder, Colorado where 3,000 foot climbs are at your doorstep (such as hiking up Green Mountain, Bear Peak or South Boulder Peak which are nearly 3k climbs you can do in under an hour), you need to practice running uphill. Hiking strength does not necessarily correlate with one’s ability to run easier graded climbs. If you do not practice this, climbs like the ones at Badwater, that extend for miles and miles will demoralize you in the heat of day when you are forced to hike instead of run. It will not feel good to be hiking miles you know you could’ve ran if you don’t practice this before the race.
By the time Danny reached mile 50.8, where there was a rest area (with a parking lot) we could crew him at, he was struggling badly. Danny said his Achilles was bothering him, that he was mentally very fatigued from his struggles during the first night, and was generally very worried his Achilles being able to go another 85 miles. In retrospect, I think he was thinking too far ahead. One thing I asked Danny before the race was what he wanted to get out of his Badwater experience. He said he wanted to compete, push himself and be forced to dig deep. While he was sitting in a chair, feeling sorry for himself at mile 50.8, I squatted down on my knees to look at him in the eyes as he sat in a chair and gave him a pep talk to remind him of why he was at this event. “Now. Now is the opportunity you have been waiting for man,” I told him. “You didn’t spend the last 6 months running 100+ miles per week and sitting in a 200+ degree sauna to feel sorry for yourself. Before this race, you told me you wanted to be competitive, to push yourself and dig deep. Just like you can’t be a patient man without your patience being tested or a leader without your leadership being tested, you can’t be a tough man without having to prove it. Now get out there and make the most of this opportunity.” Danny Goggins (Danny kind of looks like David Goggins so we called him this throughout the race lol) was awakened. He got up and limped out of the aid station with fresh tape on his Achilles (completed by massage therapist Jeanelle) and pacer Anastasia by his side... sometimes in an ultra you just need to be reminded to take that next step. Danny wanted to quit so badly there, but he didn’t. He kept on moving forward and slowly but surely, his pace picked up and his Achilles pain dissipated.
I do have to note, shortly after leaving mile 50.8, our crew began driving up the road and witnessed what looked like a homeless man biking up Town Pass in a Michael Jordan jersey, with a skull + bones pirate flag on the back of his bike. Who would optionally bike the Badwater course at the hottest time of year; I will never know. The only thing that can be said for sure is that he truly is the most interesting man in the world. If only we had Dos Equis phone number.
By the time Danny reached the top of Town Pass, he was feeling energized and ready to run downhill.. so he did. Very fast (sub-10 minute mile pace), which is fast at mile 60 in 115 degree heat. The descents at Badwater (much like the ascents) are slow and steady. The 10 miles from the top of Town Pass to Panamint Springs at mile 72 began quickly and energetically but became a slog. In retrospect, Danny burned too much energy riding his high as he descended into Panamint Springs Valley and began to pay the price on the valley floor, where temperatures rose to 120 degrees. It was nauseating, even just as a crew member who wasn’t running. Everyone says the heat at Badwater feels like you are baking in an oven, but words don’t do the heat of Panamint Springs justice. You need to go there and experience it. Panamint Springs makes you feel like you are a grape that is slowly turning into a raisin. It was nauseating and disgusting. I spent my time in the valley chatting with Jeanelle about how I wanted to hallucinate a Charizard because of the mixture of heat and lack of sleep I was experiencing just as a crew member that day. I think this section got the best of everyone. I will never forget it.
Danny felt the heat too, only he was struggling mentally again, because the road at the bottom of the valley is relatively flat, but does rise slightly uphill. Danny couldn’t tell if the road was flat or if, the fact that you can see 10 miles of road ahead of you, made it look like it was uphill. In reality, it is mostly downhill, but the road does begin to trend uphill as you near the Panamint Valley checkpoint.
By the time Danny was at mile 70 and had only two more miles to Panamint Springs, he notified the crew he wanted to sleep and get his toes re-taped because of some hot spots forming. Upon arrival, I found a “medical tent” which was really just a small red barn/hut without AC (or a medic). All that was in the little building were two small beds in an uncomfortably hot room, an actual bedroom in another room, and a small bathroom. Separating the bedrooms was a small common area. The whole building was maybe 200 square feet. For some reason, this little house reminded me of a Call of Duty map; like it was somewhere you went to die instead of be revived.
On the bright side, there is a restaurant at mile 72, Panamint Springs, that serves hot food. I had low expectations for the food quality there but was surprised by how good my buffalo chicken sandwich and fries were. I actually still reminisce about it sometimes. I was told the food on course was great, but didn’t believe it until that moment.
I was able to eat my sandwich while watching Danny nap (well, attempt to nap) on a small bed (which was more like a cot) in the very small back room of the hut we were in. After maybe 30 minutes, Danny announced he did not think he was going to be able to sleep and wanted to move on. The rest of the crew was at the restaurant eating, so I accompanied Danny to the bathroom to brush his teeth. The bathroom door was open since that’s all he planned to do, but in the middle of brushing his teeth, he gave me an odd look and very randomly decided to lay himself softly onto the ground. He looked up at me with wide eyes and said “What just happened? I passed out.” I looked back at him, very surprised and a little stressed, and told him everything was alright and that he had gently let himself to the ground. I assured him he did not pass out (I honestly thought that passing out meant he would have fallen down but apparently people can slowly let themselves to the ground without memory). When he continued to tell me he passed out, I shut the bathroom door for privacy. Danny sat on the floor and now leaned his head over the bathtub to spit out remaining toothpaste. It was not a pretty sight to see, and I did not know what to do. I helped him to his feet slowly and moved him back to the bedroom before running over to the restaurant to get assistance from the rest of the crew. The moment Danny and I shared in the bathroom was a very stressful. The combination of him passing out, me not knowing what to do, the uncomfortable heat inside of this little house, sleep deprivation and having to problem something I had never seen before, all combined to create a very stressful situation. For a moment, I wondered if finishing was a possibility. Danny had done so well (outside of one low moment at mile 50) and recovered so well, it felt like this low moment came out of nowhere.
When the rest of the crew arrived to help, Danny tried his best to sleep again but couldn’t. He decided he wanted to move on but needed to change shorts, socks and shoes before doing so. In the moment, I questioned if continuing in the heat of the afternoon was a smart idea, but Danny sounded confident in his decision and when your runner is believes in themself, you trust them. Ultrarunning is an extreme sport. You don’t go to Death Valley and expect sunshine and rainbows, so I trusted him and he was right.
While Anastasia accompanied Danny back onto the course, I worked with MJ and Jeanelle to restock our ice supplies and fill the car with gas. The second climb of the course begins immediately when runners leave Panamint Springs. It is called the Father Crowley climb (in reference to Father Crowley vista) and climbs 3,000 feet over the course of about 13 miles over Panamint Springs Pass. This climb is the steepest climb of the race and takes place at the hottest point of the day for many runners, so it should not be taken lightly. Many people know it as the spot on the course where the Airforce flies jets through the valley to practice military drills while the race goes on. Yes, the military does this on purpose while Badwater goes on. It is a cool tradition.
This spot on course is particularly important for crews to note because the road that goes up the climb twists and turns its way up the mountain pass. There are only a few spots to park, so the race designates crewing areas here, whereas on other parts of the course, you can park to meet your runner almost anywhere you want. Remember that runner manual I mentioned earlier? Crews must reference that to make sure they are parking in designated areas. Failure to do so comes with repercussions from the race, so it’s important for crew to be diligent about where you are parking here.
Midway through the Father Crowley climb, fatigue began to get the best of me and I passed out for a good half hour. It was disappointing because it was the first time all race I stopped tracking Danny’s nutrition. I monitored every milligram of Sodium, milliliter of fluid consumed and calorie up until Panamint Springs, which was still impressive in retrospect. During the race I thought it would be cool to track Danny’s nutrition for the entirety of the race, but I now realize the only way to do that is to have at least two people monitoring nutrition, since staying up for two whole days is very difficult for one person to do (especially when I ran WSER the week prior). After I missed a few stops of nutrition tracking, I lost motivation to continue tracking it, thinking the hardest part of the race was over anyway.
Danny and Anastasia moved well up the Father Crowley climb and hiked very strong. I was impressed by Anastasia showing zero signs of weakness her entire time pacing. When we met the two of them at Father Crowley vista, spirits seemed high. Danny wasn’t too talkative. I think he spent a good chunk of that afternoon somewhat nauseous from the heat, even though he was moving well. Still, he chugged along at a good hiking pace and was on track to finish.
Around this time, I began struggling as a crew member. I briefly napped while Danny was completing the Father Crowley climb but was starting to get antsy since I had been confined to the crew vehicle for almost a full 24 hours now. One of the reasons Badwater is so hard to crew is because you can’t just meet your runner at the next aid station and go for a run, stop by the local restaurant or go for a walk in your free time. You have to go to the next stop, park the car and wait maybe 20 minutes. Then you see your runner but that’s all the time you’ve got before you need to drive the car up the road again. I asked the crew to let me pace for a few miles and was given what felt like a complicated response. I think Anastasia wanted to keep pacing (because that was her chief duty, she was enjoying it and it gave her purpose), MJ, who was Danny’s nephew decided he wanted to try running his first 50k mid-Badwater with Danny (which he did and it was super cool), and I wanted to get some movement in my body because I hadn’t been able to for 30 hours (and I am not good at staying still for that long). It felt like everybody wanted a piece of the pacing action which was really cool but also complicated given Badwater’s intense environment. Our crew was essentially 4 strangers who were put in a van for 48 hours and this was the first time we all needed to work together to solve everyone’s needs. I think this pacing dilemma brought up a good point about Badwater crewing though which is that everyone always wants to feel like they are contributing, but when you have 4 crew members, there are times when it’s not necessary for everyone to step up simultaneously. Everyone wanted to pace because they wanted to help, which is awesome, but it doesn’t take 3 people to move a car 2 miles and fill bottles at every stop. In the future, I hope crew members know they don’t need to be productive 100% of the time.
Ultimately, I was able to pace 6 miles (which was about 2 hours of running/walking) at the pace Danny was moving. The miles I ran with Danny were enjoyable. I talked to Danny about virtues and why we do the things we do in this sport. Danny values toughness a lot and is a big follower of military folks like Goggins, Cam Hanes, Jocko Willink, etc. For reference, I like a lot of the messages these guys put out, but I don’t agree with the ideology of just running ultras to be tough or the 1% or to beat other people. I feel like the purpose of running ultras is to dig deep and learn about oneself, to see cool new places, and to meet new fascinating people. To me, this very masculine ideology about solely doing ultras to dig deep and prove toughness just doesn’t resonate, which is interesting because at one point in my ultrarunning career, I was very driven by these very things. I believed character was shown in times of toughness, and that is what mattered most. I still believe that to an extent, but I think there is much more to it. Ironically, when I finished my first Moab 240, I felt a very deep sense of empathy and understanding and connection to other human beings, which I found odd in a sport that requires a lot of solitude in training and racing. I realized that on the other side of pain and suffering is gratitude, happiness and empathy; what I would call more feminine traits. The softer side of ourselves. I find it interesting that on the other side of these masculine traits, there are what I would call feminine ones to balance them out. Moab 240 really brought that out in me. I chatted with Danny about these subjects for a bit of our time running together, with hopes that although the race was not going as smoothly as he had planned, that he could find value in the love and support he was receiving from his crew and family who would support him regardless of his competitive placement or where he thought he should be in the race, but wasn’t.
Pacing Danny at Badwater 135
When our time came to an end, I was grateful to move my body for a while and relieve some of the stress that came with living in a car for 24 hours. It was now MJ’s turn to pace. He really wanted a picture pacing his uncle in the desert while the sun was still shining and it was cool we were able to get some good shots of them running together. I’m sure many of those photos will serve as sentimental memories for him. Together, Danny and MJ passed the mile 90 mark about 24 hours into the race, which was a good sign. Little did we know how difficult the night would be.
Honestly, I lost track of time after pacing my section. I was so tired from running WSER a week prior and staying up all of night one, that I was finding it hard to stay awake even with sunlight still in the sky. At one point, Danny puked while MJ was pacing him and Jeanelle and Anastasia looked to me as the Dietitian for guidance. I was so sleepy/dehydrated/underfueled that I looked at them and said, “I might technically be a Dietitian, but right now I’m just a person.” My head was killing me from the heat, and I honestly could not think straight. In retrospect, I think I did not drink enough water while pacing Danny for the few miles I did. At one point before sunset, I recorded a video for the YouTube video I was making mid-race and mid-talking at the camera, I said “I don’t know what I’m saying.” I just couldn’t concentrate well any longer. I needed sleep.
One thing I think our crew did poorly was plan for sleep. At our pre-race meeting, Danny told us his plan to finish in the 30-38 hour range. He told us he didn’t plan to sleep during the race and we all nodded our heads. In retrospect, I should have said something. My two Moab 240 finishes should have taught me otherwise. I think I was too busy planning for Western States to adequately consider all of the details of his race when Western was on my mind. I regret not saying anything... At the beginning of night 2 and I told Anastasia and Jeanelle that moving the car and filling bottles (as night 1 taught us) doesn’t require 3 people to be awake. I said we should take turns sleeping in 3-4 hour shifts. Jeanelle said she didn’t want to sleep, and Anastasia didn’t say anything. There was no arguing, but my sleep deprived brain felt like it was a tense moment, so I let it go. I didn’t want to argue. I also didn’t want to be the only one to sleep, but I couldn’t help it. Instead, I probably dozed off for 4-5 hours on night 2 while the others tended to Danny’s needs. Sure, there were a few times when I woke up to help, but I was so fatigued, it was hard to stay awake for long. I did feel bad that I was the only one in the crew who got any real sleep on night 2, but to be fair, the others had their opportunity and declined it. At the end of the day, this was not something we should have figured out in the moment when emotions were fragile from sleep deprivation and the heat; we should have planned a sleep strategy for the crew before the race and stuck to it. You live and you learn. What can I say.
One of the times I woke up to help was when Danny was not feeling well, around 2am. He had come to the side of the road and laid down on a towel. He tried to sleep again, mostly to no avail. Per Danny, he said he passed out again. This worried the crew; mostly the girls. It bothered me too, but the way I saw it, Danny’s options were limited. He could continue trying to sleep on the ground to no avail, take a DNF or start walking to make some progress with the time that was passing anyway. I personally though that if he wasn’t going to sleep or spend his time at our homemade aid station eating more food, that he should continue walking. It wasn’t an ideal situation, but many times during an ultra, there never is an ideal situation. You have to make tough decisions. Danny seemed to agree with me. When I looked into his eyes, I saw an ultrarunner who knew he had to do something he didn’t want to do, which was keep moving forward. To the day of this writing, I think that was the right decision, but the girls looked at me quizzically. We helped Danny slowly get up from the ground and onto his feet again (slowly so the blood would not rush to his head and cause him to feel dizzy or pass out again) so he could continue moving forward, with MJ still pacing him. As they walked away, the girls voiced concern about Danny passing out and hitting his head on the concrete. While I thought it was a valid concern, I did not agree with the mindset. Any trail runner can fall and hit their head at any event or even training run. Sure, there was additional reason to be concerned with Danny; since he had gently let himself to the ground twice now. My opinion is that when you sign up for a race that has called itself The World’s Toughest Footrace for 30+ years, you know there is risk and you are willing to take it when you toe the starting line though. Maybe that sounds curt, but you can’t sign up for a race like Badwater and not consider that fact that you might actually die out there. You have to accept that there are significant risks like rhabdo, AKI’s (acute kidney injuries) or electrolyte imbalances that can happen as a runner before the event begins. Crew should be aware of these risks too and be told what the runner’s limits are for DNF’ing before the race ever begins. When you have parameters around quitting before the scenario ever occurs, it helps make that decision easier. Deciding to quit in a moment of stress is not what you want. But you also don’t want your crew to tell you to quit, because parameters around quitting were not clearly set pre-event. Also, there is a reason they say not to bring you parents or family to an ultra. It’s great when people care about you, and I have a lot of empathy for friends + family who do not want to see a loved one suffer. But that mindset is not always what you want during a race.. People who care about you don’t want to see you suffer and will ask you to stop or quit, when your tank isn’t empty yet. Just my opinion. I am sure others will disagree. One of the difficult nuances of this sport is that each individual has their own limit and at the end of the day, they are the ones responsible for voicing that limit and sticking to it... This paragraph was not easy to write. I hope the message was conveyed accurately and that anyone reading this understands how nuanced this subject is.
Nonetheless, Danny did keep moving. It was slow and arduous. Per Danny’s request, we were now meeting him every mile down the road, as opposed to every 2 miles we were doing the first night. In retrospect, I think there were a few reasons Danny struggled so much the second night. One of the reasons was because although he ate very well for the first 70 miles of the race to Panamint Springs, he began to get pallet fatigue and stopped eating as much. Wraps, Coconut Water, Skratch, and fruit among a few other items were not doing it for him anymore. I made Danny ramen at one point so he could try something new and hot, but he only ate a small bite of it. We didn’t have any other options for him... This might be a good time to note that (at least when this race occurred), Danny was a vegan. There’s nothing wrong with the diet choice; I note this though because it did limit the options we could purchase ahead of and during the race. As a runner, you need to think things like pallet fatigue ahead of time and have a backup plan in case it occurs. Because Danny was not eating much through the night, I told him to take a bottle of honey on the road. Honey (and maple syrup for that matter) are both natural, dense carbohydrate sources that are easy on the GI system. In other words, it doesn’t take much to get a lot of calories from those items. I told MJ, who was still pacing Danny, to make sure Danny took small sips (straight from the bottle) every 20 minutes or so.
The other reasons Danny struggled though are because once again, we didn’t have a great sleep plan in place for the race. Danny couldn’t sleep, which is often difficult during ultras. Despite being so tired, your brain is still wired in race mode. Just because you want to sleep and feel like you need to, doesn’t mean you will if you lay down. But then if you lay down and can’t sleep, it feels like you’re wasting time. It’s not a good scenario to be in, and Danny was stuck in that cycle. Honestly, there is not always much you can do for this except keep moving forward at an ugly pace and pound caffeine, which brings me to the last issue we had.
The last issue we had was lack of a caffeine plan. The one time Danny took multiple caffeine pills, I was asleep and he puked them up. He drank Monster Energy drinks but they were zero calorie; a bad choice of “energy” drink for an ultra. Since Badwater starts at 8pm, that means most athletes will run fully through a second night or partially through a second night. If you are running Badwater, you need to have a plan ready for sleep and caffeine intake and how/when you are going to do these things. As a side note, many zero calorie drinks (including Monster) contain sorbitol, erythritol, etc. These sweeteners don’t contain calories, but often times induce Gi distress aka diarrhea.
I don’t mention these issues to point fingers at our crews’ planning process. I mention them with hopes that anyone reading this will find value in me publicizing our mistakes. And yes, although it was Danny’s race and the runner should always be most responsible for the planning process, nobody in our crew (including myself) made sure we came into the event with plans for all of these details. Danny is a particularly good example to remind people that you can run 120 miles per week, lift heavy at the gym, look like David Goggins and be the most jacked guy at runner check-in, but if you don’t plan the small details (a sleeping plan, caffeine plan, variety of fueling sources (including texture + taste options)), you will suffer at your race.
Night 2 progressed slowly. I dozed off for what felt like a couple dozen times and could not stay awake for too long at once. Despite pounding a Red Bull at 2am, I fell asleep probably an hour later. At a certain point, caffeine does seem to stop working if you do not sleep for long enough.
Finally, at sunrise, my circadian rhythm woke me up for good. I probably slept for 4ish hours during the second night. Maybe even 5 hours total. Honestly, the whole night blurred together and I couldn’t remember an exact timeline of details even during the race. I had now essentially not slept or attempted to not sleep for 3 days within an 8 day window.
When the sun did come up, we were about 10 miles from Lone Pine, which sits at mile 122 of the Badwater course. Danny announced he wanted to take a nap there for a few hours, since he wasn’t able to sleep on course. Jeanelle and Anastasia needed to catch some z’s too. I don’t think either of them slept for more than an hour during night 2, if that. MJ continued pacing and showed no signs of weakness. It was impressive. Few people (if any) can say they ran their first 50k while pacing Badwater.
When we arrived in Lone Pine, where our hotel for pre-race check-in and post-race stood, Danny and the crew went to bed for a few hours. In the meantime, I cleaned the crew car, reorganized all the gear and food, re-stocked the coolers and prepared Danny’s handhelds with fresh water to go when he was ready. I even got an air freshener for the car since someone complained of foul odors since four people were living in it for 30+ hours. It’s funny I was the one to buy an air freshener since I don’t have a sense of smell.
This is also a good reminder of the importance of creating a sleep schedule for crew. Had I not slept on night 2, who would have had the energy to complete these tasks while Danny napped? Nobody got into a fight (which was impressive given our crew did not know each other before this event), but people were getting cranky and emotions felt fragile.
Danny slept for about 3 hours in our hotel at Lone Pine, before awakening to run again. While he did so, I also showered and changed into running clothes. I was scheduled to pace most of the remaining 13 miles from Lone Pine to Whitney Portal. Danny and MJ wanted to complete the last mile together. Family first.
When we finally got moving again around 11am, I began pacing Danny up the final climb: 4,000 feet up Whitney Portal Road. Pacing at Badwater is interesting because you have to run behind your runner; not in front. It makes “pacing” is an interesting word of choice for this race. Danny hiked the majority of the last half marathon while I stood behind him with a spray bottle to cool him off and offered words of encouragement along the way. To my own surprise, Danny did run small sections of flat ground and a few of the short downhills that occurred during the last section, when I pushed him to try running. I honestly did not think he would listen to me. I’m not sure if it had anything to do with me pacing him in particular or the nap he took. I tried my best to talk about life and ultrarunning philosophy with him. He seemed to be interested in our conversations, which I hoped would make the final miles feel good for him.
The final miles of Badwater were pretty cool. In Lone Pine, you make a left turn onto Whitney Portal Road (the third of only three turns you make during the entire race), and start slowly winding your way towards these huge 14,000 foot peaks on the horizon. As you get closer, the peaks get taller, the grade of the climb begins to get steeper and huge sequoia trees begin appearing along the road as well.
Danny did move well up the last climb and the crew was impressed. Despite the tension between us all on the second night, it seemed to ease after everyone caught up on sleep. The rest of the crew loved our pace (sub-20 minute miles going uphill at mile 125 in 90? degree heat). It wasn’t quite as hot at the higher elevations which provided some relief, but both Danny and I sported ice bandanas for the entirety of the climb.
At a few points, we met other runners Danny knew. One was a multi-time Badwater finisher, Danny Westergard. Another was Sally McRae, who Danny stopped for a photo with. Sally wasn’t running but was on course filming. I think she was filming a movie about Bob Becker, the 80-year old on course. Bob famously finished a few years prior as he crawled across the finish line. I told Danny he couldn’t lose to an 80-year old. He laughed and chugged along, passing Bob about midway up the climb.
As the climb progressed and got steeper, I asked Danny on a harder section what message he wanted to leave for his future self. He said “Don’t give in to your own temporary feelings. Remember your purpose and your why. It’s supposed to be hard. That’s where the greatest lessons are learned.”
Shortly after this, I handed my pacing duties to MJ, who took over the reigns of getting Danny to the finish line. Meanwhile, Anastasia, Jeanelle and myself parked at the finish line to run it in with Danny. When they caught up to us, about 100 yards from the finish, MJ and I held a Colorado flag in the background while Danny led the five of us across the finish line. I thought it was cool that race officials held up tape for Danny to cross, as he ran past the Whitney Portal entrance. When he finished, he broke into tears and hugged each of the crew members. He then sat down to contemplate what had just happened. I think he was in disbelief of how the entirety of the event had gone. On one hand, I think he was proud that he had finished one of the hardest races on Earth, while on the other, I think he was emotional about how different the race had gone than he expected. I don’t think finishing in 44 hours was on his radar before the race. I don’t think passing out in a bathroom in Panamint Springs or on the side of the road was either. After the race, we all joked about a 100 minute mile he “ran” at mile 100, but I think Danny took those things seriously afterwards and looked back with regret. After the race was over, he would make a comment to me in a Journey Running Podcast that we recorded that he felt like he could have performed better at Badwater. He said that he felt like he wasted an opportunity. Personally, I found that a bit upsetting. I know it’s not fun to not live up to your own expectations. But the reason crewing Badwater meant so much to me was the imperfections. Instead of seeing all the low moments of the race as failures, I drew a lot of strength and inspiration from Danny, who continued to fight and choose to move forward and not quit whenever something difficult happened to him. It was really inspiring. Without Danny’s low moments, I selfishly wouldn’t have been so inspired by his performance. I also think the rest of the crew drew strength from seeing Danny persevere in this manner too. One day, it sounds like both MJ and Anastasia will run Badwater. Jeanelle likely will not, as her focus isn’t ultrarunning. As for myself, I do not know. I prefer traditional trail running and think a big part of running Badwater is to see if you are tough enough to finish. But I’m not currently looking for an event to be “tough” at. I think my career speaks for itself and I do think I could complete Badwater, but I would rather run a trail race through the mountains as opposed to on a concrete road in nauseating heat. The mountains have my heart, and are more fun, in my opinion.
Back to the finish though. Standing there was Race Director Chris Kostman, who congratulated Danny. I thought it was great that Chris congratulates each and every runner after they cross the line. He is a famous personality in our sport and it speaks volumes when people like Chris make it a priority to meet and get to know each contestant. He spent time reviewing the significance of the Badwater 135 belt buckle to Danny and took photos with him too.
After finish line photos with Chris and the crew were taken, it was time to walk back to the car. Everyone wanted to shower and eat before the race’s pizza party that was taking place that evening. On the way to the car, we met Harvey Lewis who had finished in 26 hours only two weeks after running 384 miles at a backyard ultra. When Harvey saw us, we thanked him for generously responding to Jeanelle who had DM’d him to make a “good luck at Badwater” video for Danny. His response was “No problem, can I take a picture with you?” as he looked at Danny. Danny was stunned. Harvey Lewis was asking for a picture with him? Shouldn’t it be the other way around? Within 30 seconds of meeting this man, he immediately became the coolest pro ultrarunner I have ever met. Before leaving him, I had to ask him how he prepared and did so well at Badwater in such a short time after his backyard ultra. He responded by saying that “I had to convince myself that the backyard ultra never happened and that all I could do was focus on the mile that was in front of me.” He then asked for a picture with me, which I gladly took. Again, Harvey Lewis: coolest ultrarunner to ever exist. Although, I do not know how psychotic one must be to convince oneself they did not run 384 miles two weeks ago. Wild.
Danny crossing the finish line of Badwater 135 Ultramarathon
