We cut through Las Vegas on a sleepy Sunday morning, although it was probably still technically Saturday night for the city. The last time I was here, several months after the Beijing Olympics, I ran into Michael Phelps at a nightclub in Caesar’s Palace just after 3 am in the morning.
Down and down the valley goes, temperatures creeping up slowly but surely. At 190 feet below sea level, Furnace Creek was 115, the perfect temperature for a run.
Yes, I have been notified by people close to me that I am “crazy” and “insanely stupid.” I ran for 20 mins and that was enough and fairly enjoyable. However, I can deduce by extrapolation that the Badwater Ultramarathon, which starts 17 miles from Furnace Creek and goes 135 miles to top of a mountain in the northern reaches of the park, would not be.
Totally cliche, but the heat really is a dry one. Despite how hot it was, my sweat rate didn’t overcome the incredibly fast rate of evaporation until about 7 min in. After about 10 minutes, I noticed that my feet were really hot. I wasn’t doing myself any favors running in old racing flats. The weirdest thing was that for the first few minutes my breath felt cool on my face when I exhaled.