Training for Badwater

Braised to perfection at 180 degrees, marinated in his own juices on a bed of wooden planks for 56 minutes, Greg Bomhoff emerged from the sauna piping hot and thoroughly cooked.

He glanced down at his body, seared pink with some darker shadings along his flanks. He smiled, nodded.

"I'd say I'm about medium-rare."

Four times a week for the past month, this 43-year-old real estate property management executive from Granite Bay has freely submitted his body to the swelter of the sauna at his local Gold's Gym, cranking up the heat to the highest setting and gradually increasing his cook time to nearly an hour per session. Sure, it's an unpleasant, oppressive, air-gasping 180 degrees in there. But, hey, it's a dry heat.

Reason lies behind this masochistic madness. Bomhoff is trying to acclimate his body for the extreme conditions he will face Monday when he competes in the Badwater Ultramarathon, a 135-mile race through Death Valley and up Mount Whitney in temperatures that can reach 130 degrees.

Hence the sweat-lodge rituals at Gold's Gym, the Bikram "hot" yoga classes in Folsom, the head-turning sight of him running the streets of Granite Bay in several layers of clothing on hot summer days, the curious practice of sealing the windows of his truck and blasting the heater as he drives along.

Bomhoff has logged months of heavy mileage: on trails, roads and the treadmill in his basement. What's vital now, both to his hopes of completing the race to raise money for the physical education program at Franklin School in Loomis and to his bodily health, is to become as unfazed by the heat as the indigenous chuckwalla iguana, which basks on Death Valley rocks all day without requiring water.

Bomhoff, not a reptile the last time we checked, will of course need all the water and electrolytes he can stomach over the 30 hours or so it will take to traverse a course featuring mile after mile of flat pavement that can get glutinous in the shimmering heat of day, followed by a climactic 13-mile, 5,000-foot climb to the finish line on Mount Whitney.

Sitting in the sauna, sweat forming streams and tributaries down his body as he answered emails on his BlackBerry, Bomhoff explained that he's trying for a physiological adaptation. "The extreme heat increases your blood plasma," he said. "The body pumps blood to skin, where it's cooled by sweat and air. So adding blood plasma is like adding coolant to your (car) radiator."

He's seen positive signs. For one, he's sweating sooner in the sauna – and staying in longer – than when he started in early June. For another, he can sense that his sweat is less salty, a sign that his body is adapted to preserving electrolytes.

Nothing if not prepared, Bomhoff has girded himself for battle. His race plan is militaristic in its precision. Little is left to chance.

His father and crew chief, Ron, has calculated down to the last drop of sweat how much sodium Bomhoff needs to consume – 16.5 milligrams per each ounce of water – to avoid hyponatremia (too low a sodium concentration in the blood), how much water – 50 ounces per hour during the heat of the day, 35 at night – to avoid dehydration, how many calories (270) of Hammer Perpetuem in lieu of solid food to replenish protein and complex carbohydrates.

His crew, which will include his wife, Sheri, and four other friends and relatives, has been briefed on how and when to cater to Bomhoff's on-course needs. Their rented SUV will resemble a mobile cooling station, stuffed to the ceiling with ice to be used to stuff down the back of Greg's shirt and under his hat nearly every mile.

Oh, about the apparel: Bomhoff, who normally just wears a tank top and shorts for ultra races, has purchased a très chic desert ensemble all in white (apropos, since he is a Badwater virgin) to deflect the sun.

He'll be sporting a hat with a shield to shade most of his face and neck, a long-sleeve shirt with a netted pouch in the back for the ice packing, a pair of baggy, nearly knee-length shorts and compression calf sleeves. He is bringing seven pairs of his shoes, the Brooks Adrenaline, because the asphalt has been known to melt soles. Three of the pairs are up to a size and a half larger than Bomhoff's normal size 12s. The feet swell in such heat.

The outfit is slightly amusing to Bomhoff. Other than his face, the only exposed skin will be about 5-inch sections around his knees where the shorts end and before the compression socks begin. But he still will be one of the minimally clad runners compared to the full-on Lawrence of Arabia look some Badwater competitors favor.

Even with all the preparation and education about heat illnesses – the Badwater runners' manual devotes six pages to it, and participants sign a voluminous medical waiver – Bomhoff acknowledges he'll never knows if what he's doing will work until he races.

But his confidence surged on Father's Day weekend, when he and his dad made a road trip to Badwater. Bomhoff wanted to drive the full course and run a portion to get a feel for it.

On that Saturday, he ran 35 miles, including the flattest, hottest stretch, from Furnace Creek (Mile 17.4 on the route) to Stovepipe Wells (Mile 41.9). On Sunday, he ran the final 13-mile ascent, then turned around and ran downhill back.

"I was pleased," he said. "But the temperature only got to 117, so it was kind of mild. I ran at race pace, no hurry. I just wanted to get a feel for what it's going to be like.

"My dad was stopping every mile and going over how much water I'm drinking, trying out his computer spreadsheet that calculates the sodium ratios. My dad's really getting into it. We had to figure out how quickly the ice melted. It turned out, it's mostly gone every mile. So we'll have to keep loading up the pouches."

Ron Bomhoff says he's still doing some minor tinkering with fluid levels, but he's pleased with how his son responded during the Badwater, uh, dry run.

"He looked just as strong as you'd see him running up the American River Canyon ," the elder Bomhoff said. "I know (Greg) had some apprehension about Badwater, just from its reputation. But he's running great."

In fact, during the drive back to Granite Bay, Bomhoff made an observation to his father that might surprise some. He said he thinks the Western States 100 Mile Endurance Run (from Squaw Valley to Auburn ) might be more enervating than Badwater.

"When I ran Western States in 2006, it was the second hottest year they've ever had," he said. "All the water you carried was for drinking. You could occasionally splash water on your face crossing a stream, but there was just no way to cool down.

"That race was just unbearably hot. Whereas, at Badwater, yes, it's much hotter and you're in direct sunlight the whole time, but you have your crew every mile and have ice all over your body. You're better able to cool your body than at Western States."

But Bomhoff has heard enough about Badwater to know that much of the race is a matter of mental toughness, of slogging away for hours with waves of heat shimmering off the road that seemingly stretches forever. He recently traded emails with Brian Recore , formerly of Yuba City, who ran his first Badwater last year and is back again.

"The course itself messes with your head," Recore said. "It's the monotony, looking out 20 miles in the distance and seeing where you still have to go. It can get to you."

Bomhoff said his desert excursion gave him a preview of that lonesome feeling, but also was able to appreciate the vast beauty of the terrain.

"It's big," he said. "Everything is big. There are no trees out there. You can see for miles and miles. In that regard, it's, like, wow. Beautiful."

Death Valley, of course, can be harsh and unforgiving. Any error in hydration or fueling can leave a man parched and prostrate on the desert floor, as in that famous final scene in Erich von Stroheim's silent movie classic, "Greed."

But Bomhoff is running for charity, not greed. He said helping his two sons' school is what propels him forward, and he doesn't think of failing. And, all along, he has projected an aura of quiet confidence about the endeavor, despite admitting to being a tad nervous as race day approaches.

"In the end, I know I'll come through. But I always second-guess and think I could've done more. I overanalyze things. That's probably why I like doing this – I get to overanalyze every piece of it."

That, and getting to slow cook in a sauna.