Training for Badwater

Outside Mike Phillips' home in east Clovis, it's 105 degrees.

Inside Phillips' garage, it's 120 -- maybe hotter.

Just the way he likes it.

"It's not even warm in here yet," Phillips jokes. "I need to put a jacket on."

Up in Squaw Valley, Marcia Rasmussen greets visitors wearing a black fleece jacket.

Yes, a black fleece jacket on a 100-degree day. If that's not enough, Rasmussen also cranks up the heater in her truck -- with the windows rolled up -- whenever she drives to Fresno.

"I like to get it up to 120 degrees or so," she says.

Phillips and Rasmussen insist there's a method to their sweaty madness.

Saturday morning, Phillips and Rasmussen will join a dozen other long-distance runners in Death Valley National Park for the Badwater Solo Ultra, a brutal test of strength, endurance and willpower in some of the harshest and most extreme conditions on earth. And both think they need to prepare by getting used to heat -- lots of heat.

The 146-mile course goes from Badwater, the lowest point in the Western Hemisphere at 282 feet below sea level, to the 14,497-foot summit of Mt. Whitney, the highest point in the contiguous United States. Some runners may opt to finish at Whitney Portal, which knocks off some 11 miles and 6,000 feet of climbing.

Temperatures in Death Valley this weekend could soar as high as 130 degrees, which makes 105 seem like a cool breeze.

"Just like altitude, you can acclimatize to heat," says Phillips, a veteran ultramarathon runner making his first attempt at Badwater. "You start four or five weeks out and go as hot as you can take it."

Judging by his training regimen, Phillips can take it pretty hot.

To train for the harsh conditions he'll encounter, the 44-year-old X-ray technician at Community Medical Center-Clovis cordoned off a portion of his garage with plastic sheeting. Inside, he placed a treadmill and surrounded it with three heaters.

Each day when he gets home from work in the midafternoon, Phillips turns on the heaters and then runs a 6-mile loop outside. When he returns, he spends 90 minutes running inside his pre-heated treadmill sauna.

A thermometer inside the room shows 120 degrees. The needle doesn't go any higher.

Sweat stains cover the concrete floor near the treadmill.

"When I'm done," Phillips says, "it's like a lake in here."

Rasmussen's training methods are no less extreme. She runs 3 to 30 miles during the hottest part of the day.

Last year, the 46-year-old made it to Whitney Portal in 53 hours and 36 minutes, suffering through knee pain and blisters that covered both feet. This year, she hopes to make it all the way to the summit.

Unlike Phillips, who has several ultramarathons to his credit, including the Western States 100, Rasmussen does not regard herself as especially athletic. In fact, she did not take up running seriously until making a 2000 New Year's resolution.

"It was the same year I turned 40, and that is a big thing for women," says Rasmussen, who dropped 50 pounds that first year. "All the stars aligned for me, and I got inspired."

The main medical risk associated with vigorous exercise at extreme temperatures is heatstroke, said Dr. Matt Hendrickson, an emergency room physician at Saint Agnes Medical Center.

Heatstroke occurs when the body loses its ability to regulate internal temperature, mainly through sweating, due to excessive heat. Untreated, it can lead to seizures, brain damage, organ failure and even death.

"No matter how well you train, running at temperatures above 105 [degrees] is a high-risk pursuit," Hendrickson said.

All Badwater Solo Ultra runners have crews that escort them in vehicles along the course, providing much needed support and company.

To hydrate and cool herself while running, Rasmussen carries a 20-ounce water bottle in one hand and a plastic spray bottle in the other. Both bottles get replaced every mile.

Badwater runners typically wear white long-sleeved shirts made from a nylon designed to evaporate sweat quickly and a white hat with flaps wide enough to shade the entire head and shoulders. Gobs of sunscreen are needed as well, even though it makes sweating more difficult by blocking pores.

Even though she nearly quit last year, Rasmussen is looking forward to her second time.

"After a year, you sort of forget how much it hurt," she says. "Some women compare it to childbirth. You suffer through it, and you go through it again."

The Badwater Solo Ultra should not be confused with the Badwater Ultramarathon, which is held on the same course in late July.

Unlike the Badwater Ultramarathon, the Badwater Solo Ultra, in its second year, is not an organized race. Instead, it's a solo, self-supported crossing designed for local and nonelite runners. There are no fees, race numbers or prize money.

"I wasn't necessarily born athletic," Rasmussen says. "I'm not talented. So it's kind of exciting to see what you can do when you put your mind to it. Ordinary people can do extraordinary things when they have the courage to dream big."

Phillips, whose 12-year-old son, Ryan, will help pace his dad during the cool evenings, has a similar perspective.

"I'm a pretty boring guy, actually," he says. "A boring guy who likes doing adventurous things."