You’re standing on a patch of white salt crust at Badwater Basin. It is 282 feet below sea level. The air doesn't just feel hot; it feels heavy, like a physical weight pressing against your chest. If you look at the horizon, the heat waves make the Panamint Mountains look like they’re melting into the sky. This is the start of the Death Valley super marathon, officially known as the Badwater 135, and honestly, it’s a miracle anyone finishes this thing at all.
Most people think of marathons as 26.2 miles of paved roads with cheering crowds and orange slices. This isn't that. It’s 135 miles. It’s non-stop.
The ground temperature can hit 200 degrees Fahrenheit. That is hot enough to literally melt the rubber off your running shoes. Many runners actually have to run on the white painted lines of the road because the black asphalt is basically a frying pan. If you trip and hit the ground with bare skin, you’re looking at second-degree burns instantly. It’s brutal.
What Actually Happens to Your Body in Death Valley
When you're running through the Death Valley super marathon, your body enters a state of high-level crisis management. It’s not just about sore muscles. It’s about thermal regulation. Dr. Greg Nance, who has studied extreme endurance, often points out that the primary hurdle isn't the distance—it's the "convection oven" effect.
As you move, the wind blows 120-degree air across your skin. Usually, sweat cools you down. In Death Valley, the sweat evaporates before it even has a chance to bead up. You feel dry, but you’re actually dehydrating at a terrifying rate.
Your heart rate spikes. Your blood thickens.
The sheer logistical nightmare of keeping a human alive in these conditions is why every runner is required to have a support crew. This isn't a solo jaunt. You need a van full of ice, water, and people who are willing to spray you down every few minutes for 48 hours straight. Without them? You're dead. Seriously.
The Route: From the Bottom of the World to the Top
The course is a topographical rollercoaster that would make a sane person turn around and go home.
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- It starts at Badwater Basin (lowest point in North America).
- It passes through Furnace Creek—a name that is very literal.
- It climbs over Townes Pass, which is a brutal 17-mile ascent.
- It finishes at Whitney Portal, the gateway to Mt. Whitney.
Total elevation gain? Over 14,600 feet of cumulative vertical ascent.
Think about that for a second. You spend the first 40 miles getting baked in a subterranean salt flat, then you have to climb several mountain ranges while your quads are screaming. By the time runners reach Lone Pine at mile 122, they are often hallucinating. It’s common to see runners talking to "people" who aren't there or stopping to pet "dogs" that are actually just sagebrush.
The Death Valley super marathon isn't just a physical test; it’s a psychiatric one. Marshall Ulrich, a legend who has finished the race over 20 times and even completed a "quad" (four back-to-back Badwaters), describes the mental state as a "stripping away of the ego." You don't have the energy to be anyone other than your most basic, primal self.
Why Do People Do This?
Honestly, it’s a fair question. There’s no prize money. You don't get a huge check or a Nike sponsorship just for crossing the line.
You get a belt buckle.
And the "Finisher" shirt.
But for the 100 or so elite athletes who get invited each year (you can't just sign up; you have to be vetted), it’s about the "pure" limit. In the 1970s, when Al Arnold first tried to run from Badwater to Mt. Whitney, people thought he was suicidal. It took him three tries to finally do it in 1977. Since then, the race has become a pilgrimage for the "ultrarunning" community.
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There's a specific kind of camaraderie that happens when you're vomiting behind a support van at 3:00 AM while your pacer tries to force-feed you a lukewarm burrito. It’s a shared suffering that creates bonds faster than any corporate retreat or weekend 5K ever could.
The Logistics of Staying Alive
If you’re thinking about the Death Valley super marathon, you need to understand the "Ice Routine." It is the most important part of the race.
Crews use "ice bandanas"—literally buffs filled with ice cubes wrapped around the neck to cool the carotid arteries. They use "misting bottles" to create an artificial microclimate. Some runners use silver reflective suits that make them look like baked potatoes, designed to bounce the sun's radiation away from their core.
Nutrition is another nightmare. Your stomach shuts down in the heat. Blood is diverted away from digestion to the skin for cooling and to the legs for movement. Most runners survive on liquid calories, baby food, or, surprisingly, McDonald’s cheeseburgers. There’s something about the salt and simple fats that the body craves when it’s under that much stress.
The Environmental Controversy
It’s worth noting that the National Park Service (NPS) hasn't always been thrilled with the race. Back in 2013, there was a temporary ban on daytime racing in the park due to safety concerns. People were worried about the liability of runners dropping dead on federal land.
Eventually, the race organizers (AdventureCORPS) worked it out. Now, the race often starts at night to mitigate the absolute peak of the midday sun, though runners still end up spending a massive amount of time in the heat. The park service keeps a close eye on the "impact" of the event, but the ultrarunning community is generally very "Leave No Trace."
Misconceptions About the Heat
A lot of people think you can "train" for this by sitting in a sauna.
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Sorta.
Sauna sessions help with plasma volume expansion, but they don't prepare you for the wind. The wind in Death Valley is like a hair dryer pointed at your eyeballs. It dries out your contact lenses, cracks your lips, and makes your throat feel like it’s been sanded down.
Also, it doesn't "cool down" at night. Not really. In July, the temperature at midnight can still be 105 degrees. The rocks in the canyon walls hold onto the heat and radiate it back at you long after the sun goes down. There is no escape.
Critical Gear for the Death Valley Super Marathon
You can't just show up in your favorite gym clothes. Most participants wear long-sleeved, white, UV-rated shirts. Covering up is actually better than being naked because it keeps the sun off the skin and allows for a layer of moisture (from the misting) to sit against the body.
- Footwear: Most runners wear shoes at least one size too big. Your feet will swell like balloons after 50 miles in the heat. Some even cut holes in the toe boxes to prevent "hot spots" and blisters from friction.
- Lighting: Since a huge chunk of the race happens in pitch blackness on narrow road shoulders, high-lumen headlamps and reflective vests are mandatory.
- Hydration: We're talking gallons. Not liters. Gallons.
The 48-Hour Cutoff
The clock never stops. If you stop to sleep for two hours, that’s two hours you lose on the 48-hour cutoff. Most people don't sleep. Maybe a 10-minute "dirt nap" on the side of the road, but that's it.
The finish line at Whitney Portal is 8,374 feet up. The air is thin. You've just run 135 miles. Your kidneys are likely struggling. Your feet are a mess of blisters. And yet, when runners see that final incline, they often find this weird, supernatural burst of energy.
Crossing that line isn't a "woo-hoo" moment for most. It’s a collapse. It’s a quiet realization that the human body is capable of significantly more than we give it credit for.
Actionable Next Steps for Aspiring Ultras
If you’ve read this and think, "I want to try that," you can't just jump into the Death Valley super marathon. You need a resume.
- Build a Base: You need at least three years of consistent ultrarunning. Most entrants have finished multiple 100-mile races before even applying.
- Volunteer: The best way to understand Badwater is to join a support crew. Experience the heat and the logistics without the physical toll of running first.
- Heat Acclimation: Start incorporating "active" heat training. This doesn't just mean a sauna; it means running in the heat of the day (safely) to teach your body to sweat efficiently.
- Check the Requirements: Visit the official Badwater 135 website to see the current qualification standards, which include finishing specific "qualifier" races.
- Master Your Nutrition: Find the foods that stay down when you're nauseous. If you can't eat while running, you can't do 135 miles. Period.
The Badwater 135 remains the gold standard of "suffer-fests." It’s not about winning; it’s about surviving a landscape that is actively trying to kill you. Whether you’re an athlete or just a fan of human endurance, it stands as a testament to the weird, stubborn grit of the human spirit.