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Badwater 2001 Report Part 2(CA): Blade Norman

When we last left our heroes, they had arrived at Stovepipe Wells.  Will
  they make it to Mt. Whitney?  Read on....

Laura worked on Steven with a massage stick for 15 minutes, or so and I
think we left Stovepipe about ten after 7 pm.  The sun was waning now, but
it was still 116. Another change was to take shape now, because shortly out
of Stovepipe Wells begins a long climb to Towns Pass at 5,000 ft.  It would
be dark for quite some time when we got to the top of Town Pass.  As we
moved into the night we caught up to other groups, including Art Webb,
Shannon Farar-Greifer, the legend Marshall Ulrich (who was on the third of
four crossings) and Chris Moon.  Chris was sporting a new leg this year (I
believe) and he was looking good.
Steve took over for me somewhere going up to Town Pass and Laura wanted to
take over after we headed down the backside.  The top of Town pass was
another popular place to take a mental and physical break for the runners
but our team resisted the temptation and continued on after a brief stop.
Steven was starting to hit his first real "bad patch" and felt as if he
needed to puke.  Laura was able to pick up his spirits some though and a
Zenadrine capsule helped him shake off the drowsiness.  As I took over after
Laura/Steve J,  I could tell that we were beginning to loose focus.  Steven
was whining bad now, and saying that he couldn't run anymore and there was
still half way to go. (the tough half)  I got in his face and told him that
there was no way I was going to let him quit and to shut up and take the
pain.  I knew that when the next morning dawned, things would get better. We
needed to focus on Panamint Springs (the next checkpoint)  We walked through
the darkness painfully moving toward Panamint.  I told Steven to go ahead
and try to puke.  Dry heaves was all he could muster but it helped some and
gradually his stomach settled down.  Now the main problem was that the
desire to sleep was the main bear on his back.  A couple of times we had to
stop and Steven would lie down on the side of the road for a minute.  I
would help him back up and we continued on.
Finally, finally, finally we came to Panamint Spring. (Checkpoint #3) There
is a guesthouse there and Laura took Steven in and we decided to let him
have a 30-minute nap.  It was 4:45 am now and daybreak would be here soon.
Jim and Steve took care of ice and supply duties again and I jumped in a
shower that was available here and changed clothes.  I still had not gotten
sleepy yet and knew that the next section would be tough going, despite the
new day.  It's up a very steep mountain now to Father Crowley's Peak and
power walking on this section was the prudent choice.
We left Panamint about 5:20 am.  The nap and sunlight did indeed help and
Steven was talking positively now and we gained on a couple of other people
as we went up the mountain.  Paul Stone was the only one that passed us
going up this section and he was looking great.  Paul would finish in 37
hours, this year and after the race he told me that he had really worked
hard this season on power walking.  It was obvious that it paid off
considering his fine finish and the fact that he took a mind-numbing 15
hours off his time from last year.
Anyway, it was up to Crowley's point and time for another pacer switch. I
think it was back to Steve James this time.  The road levels off somewhat
after Crowley, and the next checkpoint comes at Darwin's Cutoff near 90
miles.  Jim took another turn somewhere along here and soon we had Darwin in
sight.  We made the Darwin check point shortly before 11:00 am, but Steven's
resolve was wearing thin again and at the check point Laura went to work
again with the massage stick.  Steve J. took over after we left Darwin but
it was getting really tough now.  Steven's feet were in bad shape and it was
obvious extreme measure would be required.
At one point as we looked back from the van (Jim, Laura and myself) we saw
the two S's stop.  They were about 400 meters back from the vehicle.  Steve
James came jogging up and told us that Steven couldn't make it and to turn
around and go back.  We did and got Steven inside the van with the side door
open.  His feet were toast and with great agony we got his left shoe and
sock off.  "Blade, you're going to have to work on my foot.It's fuckin
killing me!"  he pleaded.  I got out my bag with the necessary implements
and Laura laid him back and held him down.  There was a huge area of  "hot
spot" on the ball of his foot and the little toe and outside of his foot was
a blistered, bloody mess.  "We're going to have to drain this, moleskin it
and tape it up." I informed him.  "It's gonna hurt, so get ready to suck it
up."   I took a needle and pierced several places so that the blood and
"clear-juice" could drain out.  I could say he bitched and cried like a
pussy, but the truth is that this hurt badly and anyone would have screamed.
Laura did a good job of keeping him down while I worked.  After the draining
and squeezing and cleaning, it was time for the spray and moleskin.  I
covered the ball of his foot with the moleskin and taped up the big
toe/little toe which were mostly hamburger by now. Back on with a fresh sock
and Presto-Chango.good as new! (Well, not exactly) Now all that was required
was to cut the side of his shoe out, so as to provide more room for his
swollen forefoot.  We got the shoe back on and gingerly he and Laura began
walking.  We moved the van up a few hundred meters and stopped to see if
things were going to be better now.  This did indeed, relieve the
pain/pressure and soon Steven began a bastardized jogging shuffle.
Once you are past Darwin at 90 miles, you can see the Serria Mountains off
in the distance.  This is good and bad because it gives the runner hope that
the end is out there somewhere but you can see it for such a long time that
it begins to feel as if you'll never reach it.  I took a turn again pacing
and things were going somewhat better for Steven.  As we neared a pass into
Owens valley Jim commented on the low ice situation.  "We're going to have
to drive on ahead to Lone Pine and get some more" was his assessment.  We
got out a couple of bottle belts and filled up with the last of the ice.
"We're going to haul ass to Lone Pine now and then we'll be back" Jim
stated. "It will probably take about an hour."
"Ok Jim, make it as quick as you can though" I emphasized.  "Things are all
right for now, but I don't want our asses hanging out for any longer than
need be"  He acknowledged and the three of them drove off to get ice.  Even
though the foot situation was greatly improved, Steven and I decided to walk
exclusively now until the van returned.  Better to save energy and water at
this point.  We moved down a slight hill and into Owens Valley.  This is
somewhere past 100 miles and it was maybe two o'clock.
Right about an hour, our cavalry returned and they were a welcome sight.  I
think we took a short beak here, as the great desire to sleep was hitting
Steven again.  10 minutes is all that we would let Steven take, because if
you go down for too long at this point it can be counterproductive. His
other foot was needing attention by now and I cut up another sacrificial
shoe in an appropriate fashion.  Steve and Laura took their turns pacing
again.  We were now less than a marathon from Lone Pine and could see Keeler
in the distance.
Minute after agonizing minute. steady progress was made.  Art Webb, whom we
hadn't seen since leaving Panamint, caught up with us and this gave Steven a
mental lift.  Art said he was going to take a break at Keeler and jump in
the water tub there. He in fact, did and Steven continued past.  Lone Pine
was in sight now.  I kept telling everyone that we were going to make it and
we all knew it was true. There was no doubt now.  We still had to get into
Lone Pine and make it up Whitney but everyone could smell the barn.
As the second nightfall was coming on we were about 3 miles from the Hwy
190/136 junction.  This is just outside Lone Pine.  There is also a small
creek here with a bridge across it and there is actually a green area with
vegetation by this creek.  The van pulled up just past the bridge for our
next stop.  Laura was taking her turn with Steven and they stopped at the
back of the vehicle.  Laura got a tuna fish packet out of one of the coolers
and opened it to eat some.  Suddenly something was wrong. very, very wrong.
 In an instant mosquitoes were everywhere. (They had come from the creek)
This was the only water for miles in this god-forsaken wasteland and the
smell of the tuna had set these bloodsuckers on us with a vengeance.  And we
had no type of repellent onboard.who would have thought!  Steven and Laura
started slapping and running away from the creek and I yelled to Jim and
Steve "Let's get the hell up to the Chevron station and get some bug spray!"
 We jumped back in the van and Jim floored it to get to the gas station,
which was now just a couple of miles ahead.  While he drove, I got some
money out of the glove box and we pulled into the Chevron.  I barely waited
for the van to stop as I jumped out and ran inside.  Praise Jesus! They had
"Deep Woods Off" on the shelf straight ahead and I grabbed a can.  I tossed
the cashier the money (not even waiting for the change) and was quickly back
out in the parking lot where Jim was turning around.  We were back in a
couple of minutes and Laura and Steven were still running and swatting.  I
got out and hollered "Cover your eyes, guys!" and proceeded to spray the
pair up one side and down the other.  Steve, Jim and I also coated ourselves
and the onslaught subsided.
With this latest challenge dealt with, Lone Pine was closer than ever. It
was dark now and we put on our reflectors and got out the flashlights.
Steven expressed a desire for a hamburger from the restaurant in town so Jim
and Laura jumped back in the van and they took off to have the food ready
and waiting by the time we got into town.  We came into Lone Pine shortly
before 10 pm and Steven checked in at the #5 time station.  I went across
the street to the Portal Motel to check into the room that would be our
quarters, once we had come back down from the mountain.  Steven went into
the burger joint for his dinner.  Laura had also prepared Peanut butter and
Jelly sandwiches for Steve James and I and we scarfed them down in the
parking lot. We were all ready now for the assault on Mt. Whitney.
It's a road all the way up to the finish at the Whitney portals.  An
unrelenting 13-mile long uphill with two main switchbacks.  Steven wanted to
get this over with in the worst way and Jim figured we could be to the
finish in another 4 hours.  Steve James and Jim both, know this mountain
like the back of their hand so we proceeded uphill keeping our flashlights
off most of the time.  As we progressed further and further the temperature
dropped.  After two days in the desert the trees on the mountain loomed like
surreal giants and I could hear a fast moving river off the side of the
road.  We tried to distract ourselves from these final few arduous hours of
climb by playing mind games like "Where do you think such-n-such is now?"
and  "guess how many calories we've burned".
During the dinner stop in Lone Pine Art Webb and company had passed us back
and were just ahead on the final miles.  We were gaining back on Art though
and word came down from his crew that Art wanted Steven to pick it up so
that they could finish together again.  The emotions and endorphins began to
kick in as both Art and Steven knew that this would be their last time for
this monster of a run.  With less than a mile to go, the "Art brigade" came
into view.  It was a chilly 50 degrees now and everyone began running.  I
hoped in the Van and Jim sped us past to the finish line.  I got out with my
camera and began snapping pictures as Steven approached with Art waving an
American flag.  They crossed the finish in 40:19:58 and everyone joined in a
celebration as Art and Steven relished their victory over the Badwater
demons for the 5th and final time.  The pain and personal sacrifice was
over.  This is what Ultrarunning is truly all about.

   Blade Norman