Beer Runner race report: I survived the Death Valley Marathon
Proof I survived Death Valley
I’m not really sure why anyone would voluntarily travel to Death Valley, much less run 26.2 miles here.
This is the most godforsaken place I have ever found myself on the planet. And I biked through southwest Nebraska.
To be fair to the nation’s largest national park, our marathon was supposed to be in gorgeous Titus Canyon. Then the park that set a record for highest temperature ever recorded in the Western Hemisphere - 134 degrees - had a snow and ice storm that shut down our regularly scheduled course.
So today, about 165 of us ended up on a mostly flat out-and-back primitive dirt road surrounded by salt fields, barren rocky landscape, remote mountains, and approximately zero signs of life. My friend Kyle (who set a new marathon PR today) claims he saw a solitary crow. Creepy.
But weather conditions at the lowest point in the continental U.S. - 282 feet below sea level - couldn’t have been more perfect, maybe 60 degrees with a constant breeze. When we started it was downright chilly.
I felt good the whole way and finished about 10 minutes off my PR in 3 hours, 38 minutes and 30 seconds, which was surprisingly good enough for 23rd place overall. I’ll take it. Winning time was 3:01.
Unfortunately, there’s no beer at the finish line, but Kyle and I stocked up at a quirky beer and soda shop called Galco’s in Los Angeles. Now we’re relaxing in our bare bones motel room with Big Sky Brewing Moose Drool.
The highlight for me was watching a woman named Cheri cross a marathon finish line for the astonishing 239th time. I watched her after the finish, assuming I could pick up a thing or two from a woman who says her favorite race of all time was in the Andes Mountains.
Here’s what I learned: You know that saying about scoring a touchdown in football, “Act like you’ve been there before”? Same thing applies to marathons.
Just 234 more marathons and maybe I can reach that level.
