I would like to thank this race for giving me nausea. Truly – I mean it! On several previous races, it was Kent who struggled in the heat. By some random stroke of luck, I’d always felt great in hot weather. But not this time. This race gave me the opportunity to battle the heat…and win! This was The Badlands 50k – my first brush with heatstroke and our first North American ultra!
The Badlands 50k race promised to be unique right from the beginning. The when and the where of it were kind of miraculous. Knowing that we’d be going home to visit family for two weeks during the summer, we scanned the internet for a candidate race. Originally, we’d thought to do some kind of fun run in either my hometown or Kent’s. But that was before I stumbled on to ultrasignup.com!
The Badlands race stood out immediately. It was relatively close to my home (about a 7 hour drive one-way, for perspective). I’d been to North Dakota before, but never to this part of the state, and of course, Kent had never been. So it would be a chance for us to do one of our favorite things: tourism on foot! We’d get to run a race and explore a brand new place! I signed us up immediately.
But we were meant to be visiting family. How could we best juggle family time and our time? Kent and I discussed our options. Doing a race actually made sense. It meant we’d be tapering the week before while we visited my family, and recovering the week after while we visited Kent’s crew – rather than training like crazy throughout our visit. But our trip was only 13 days long, so it seemed unfair to take any time away from our families.
Still, we really wanted to go! We came up with the idea of asking if anyone wanted to come along. That way, we could make a fun, family road trip out of it – and not miss out on quality time! To our delight, my mom, dad and younger sister responded instantly and positively. The Badlands 50k: family edition was officially on!
The road to race day
Our flight landed in Winnipeg one week before race day. We spent the week before the race enjoying quality time with my family, many members of whom we had not seen in person in three years! It was a joyful blur of hugs, hikes, board games and beach time. Kent and I also spent our early mornings running on the mile roads outside my hometown, watching the wheat wave in the wind and deer bound away over the endless plains.
On Friday, August 10th, we all piled into my dad’s car. The possessions of 5 different people filled the trunk to bursting. We decided early on to rotate through the front seat – as the back seat left us pressed together and seated at angles that grew more and more uncomfortable as the hours wore on. A short but intense practice session ensued to help those of us who struggle with border guard interactions.
Although the drive was long, it was actually pretty fun. My sister started a game of I Spy, and we stopped at the geographical center of North America like real tourists.
Of course, by the time we were finally arriving in Dickinson, where we planned to spend the night, we were less a picture-perfect family portrait than a group of sweaty, hangry humans ready for some separate space. Problems with our hotel check-in and a fiery debate over where to eat didn’t help matters much.
Luckily, we’d arrived early. Kent and I said goodnight to the group, who planned to do some American shopping. We went to our room, and after laying out all of our gear, were ready for bed by 7:30 pm. Falling asleep almost immediately, this actually wound up being the longest sleep of our entire trip!
Three separate alarms began to blare at 3:20 am. We awoke miraculously refreshed after our long slumber. Rather than being reassured by this, however, I felt a little nervous. Usually I sleep so poorly before an event that it’s become kind of the norm for me!
We met my dad at 4 o’clock. The plan was for him to drive us to the race site, and return later in the day to pick us up. There was no cell signal where we were going, so we just set up some approximate times as guidelines. But the drive was…not what we expected. After half an hour on the freeway, we turned onto a dirt road that got progressively narrower and more rutted. It was difficult to see anything in the dark, which made the experience of navigating all the more challenging for everyone in the car.
However, we made it to the race site in plenty of time. We thanked my dad and said goodbye, worrying about how he would manage on the way back without a map. After he drove out of view, we finally let ourselves focus completely on the race ahead. There were lots of other runners milling around, and we chatted with them. Check-in was easy, and we got to know the friendly race director. We’d borrowed a little cooler to be our own personal aid station, and we set it up near the starting line.
The Badlands 50k
The starting line, in this case, was simply a line of orange spray paint in the grass in front of a cattle gate. I liked it; it made me laugh. The sky was beginning to brighten, and we had our first views of the buttes we would be running over and around. All of the runners assembled in the grass behind the starting line for a quick pre-race briefing and the most casual count-down ever. Then, at precisely 6 am, we were off!
Kent and I had been standing near the gate, so we were in the lead right from the start. Specifically, Kent was in first place – and would remain there for the entire first quarter of the race! This early part of the race was perhaps the most memorable for me. We were blazing trail, up and onto a bluff. As the switchbacks cut back and forth, we could see the train of other runners following us. We called to those we knew, whooping and hollering in the first light of the day.
The trail leveled off to mostly flat, and we were able to run pretty much full out. Kent seemed to be on fire and was pushing the pace hard. But I was feeling great too, so I remained close at his heels. We’d talked about running a little faster than usual in the beginning to see if we could make the most of it before the day got hot. The very first rays of the sun were already warm, but they were beautiful. They lit the buttes and mud cliffs in shades of orange and gold. It was simply a delight to run the race course in this magical light, and I felt joyful.
I had planned to make mental notes of the course on this first lap so that I’d be familiar with distances and landmarks later on when I was tired. But I found that I didn’t really need to. The race course was on a section of the Maah Daah Hey trail, and it was extremely well marked. Tall wooden posts with the characteristic turtle symbol were visible all along the single-track. Plus, during this first quarter of the race, I was extremely focused on running fast. As much as I wanted to, I didn’t stop for any photos. It seemed important to maintain a good flow – and plus, it was pretty neat to be leading a race for the first time!
This race had many unique features. There were open expanses where the wind rustled the grass, and little puffs of seeds drifted on the air. There were areas of bright white clay alongside cliffs with baked ripple patterns. Despite the race director’s warning that there would be no cover, there were two areas where a few trees had sprung up around dry creek beds; offering a little sparse, spotty shade. And there were a couple of cattle gates, which we had to open and close as we went.
We arrived at the first (of two) aid stations in no time. Five kilometers had passed in what felt like mere minutes! At the aid station, we had to check ourselves in on a clipboard – very old school. One volunteer lurked nearby, cheering and scanning the horizon for incoming runners with binoculars. I popped a few pretzels in my mouth, and Kent and I each downed a little cup of coke: one of our racing pleasures. I was instantly transported back to the Tengri Ultra in Kazakhstan, and all the fun we’d had running over the steppe from one snack to the next.
The next section was a little longer: 7 kilometers of remote grassland. There was nothing and no one here, just a huge blue sky and windswept grass under the bluffs. The silence was palpable. The dirt trail was always runnable, yet almost never flat. We were always climbing or descending little hills as the tan ribbon of trail stretched out before and after us.
Just before the turnaround at 12k, one of the marathon runners passed us. He was a fast lad racing with just two handheld water bottles. We shouted encouragement to him as he zoomed on ahead. And close behind him was another runner, one of the trio from my hometown! I chatted with him a bit, but he declined to pass. He said we were setting a great pace for him, which I took as a compliment, because we were running hard!
We were running so hard, in fact, that when I looked at my watch at the turnaround, our time was 1 hour and 15 minutes: almost exactly the same time as at the Badaro Saegyero 12k we’d raced two weekends prior! This actually took me by surprise. I knew we’d been running pretty much full out, but I hadn’t realized just how speedy we’d been. We ducked under the shade of this unmanned checkpoint and grabbed a few more pretzels before dashing away again.
On our way back in the opposite direction, the man who’d been the third member of our trio for several kilometers finally passed us. Kent felt like he could chase him, and started to pull away. He paused to hold a cattle gate open for me, but I called to him that he should run his own run. We were technically registered as a team, but as it was such a small race, I doubted it would matter to anyone if we split up. And he was in such fine form, I really didn’t want to hold him back from having the race of his life! So I smiled and waved him on, and he quickly dashed off in pursuit of our Canadian friend.
For my part, I was still feeling good, but realizing I’d just run the first quarter of this 50k at 10k pace made me feel a little cautious. I wanted to go fast, but not too fast. I knew I’d need something in reserve for the next lap. So I carried on at a pace that felt just outside of comfortable, which turned out was not too far behind the two leaders. I kept them in my sights as we ran over the undulating, open terrain.
Running back over this race course was especially fun, because I was constantly meeting people. Everyone was extremely friendly, offering high-fives and words of encouragement. I love that kind of atmosphere, and I was so impressed by my fellow racers out there. Even though we were all on our own unique adventures that day, running our own race plans and striving for our own goals; there was a real sense of community. We shared in the scenery and the challenge.
Kent seemed to be especially challenging himself, and truly racing! I saw him take the lead at the crest of a bluff. As I ran up to the same place, he was already dashing down the switchbacks towards the campground; leaving little puffs of dust, and our fellow runner, in his wake. I was so impressed and proud of my love! His long stride looked so natural on the grasslands: his length evoking images of gazelles on the savannah.
I let gravity carry me down to the starting line to meet him. At our makeshift little aid station, we exchanged just a few words as we hurried about our tasks of resupplying and guzzling chilled fluids. I’d made it here, to the halfway point in about 2 hours and 45 minutes, with Kent just a few minutes ahead. He ran off in hot pursuit of our fast friend as I checked in with the volunteers. Then I too, was off, determined not to fall too far behind – or get caught in the surge of shorter distance runners that were assembling to start their race!
We climbed as a trio, face-to-face-to-face on the switchbacks, and then on top they quickly ran ahead of me. Looking down, I could see the 10k, 16 mile and half-marathon runners ducking under the cattle gate to start their races. The guys got farther and farther ahead of me as they fought for first, and soon I was completely alone.
With the heat rising in shimmering waves over the grassland now, it wasn’t long before I began to fantasize about cold water. With every step, I became more and more desperate for it. My pack full of body temperature Tailwind became difficult to swallow, even though I knew I needed it now more than ever. My mind ran circles around the idea of water, even though I chided myself for my impatience. The first stop was only 5 kilometers from the start; I must just wait!
But, as it turned out, I didn’t have to! Some wonderful human with his wonderful doggo had set up a mini camp alongside the trail, and he offered me a bottle of water from an ice-filled cooler. I could not have been happier about this! With one hand, I poured its sweet coolness down my throat while with the other hand patted his dog. This was one of the highlights of my day!
The aid station followed shortly thereafter, and there too, I only wanted water. I knew I should be eating, so I grabbed another handful of pretzels, but didn’t like the feeling of them in my mouth. A youngster – just 16 years old! – ran up, then two more of the new racers. They turned around while I proceeded onwards, alone once again.
This time, this section of the trail felt long. It was a new experience for me, running so completely on my own. I could no longer see my husband ahead of me, and there was no-one behind, either. Just me under that vast sky, making my way over the plains. I felt the thrill of solitude and relished a chance to feel so completely free and wild.
For a minute. It was also slightly unnerving. Kent and I do all of our training together, so even when we’re far from civilization, we’re always together. And in races in Asia, we’re never so far way from our fellow competitors – or from some form of civilization. I wondered about how my love was doing ahead of me, and I knew I needed to be smart and careful. A rabbit bounded out of the grass across the trail, startling me. It paused, just off the single-track and we made eye-contact. It brought me back to the present, and I felt a warm wave of gratitude wash over me. I wanted to treasure every sight, every footstep, every moment.
But I was slowing down. The sun beat down on my head and I belatedly thought to open a package of ginger jellies. I ate a couple although they tasted all wrong to me, hoping to get some energy from them. It didn’t seem to work. I was kicking up little puffs of dust as my footsteps lagged and I became clumsy on my feet. Salt tabs would help, I decided. But I wouldn’t stop to rummage in the back of my bag until the shade I knew was coming up soon.
It was probably too little, too late. I took my second or third salt tab of the day in the partial shade of the biggest tree around for miles. As I swung my pack back on, I heard other runners before I saw them. They were the only two women running the 16 mile race, and I jogged alongside them for a little while. But I soon determined that they had more energy than me and let them run on ahead. My stomach was twisting itself into knots, entirely without my consent.
Shortly before the turnaround, I saw two of the three Brandonites running toward me. But there was no sign of Kent! I wanted, desperately, to ask them about my husband, but they were coming so fast towards me that they blazed right on by, offering high-fives and words that were lost to the wind. I kept on, slow and steady, towards the final turnaround.
And there it was! There he was! I could see my husband standing under the shade of the checkpoint’s tent. There were the two 16 milers too, and the lone male in the 50 miler. But I was focused only on Kent. Had something happened? Why was he still there?
I ran up to the tent and skidded onto the ground. A burst of speed to reach my love followed by a sudden stop left me slightly dizzy and very nauseous. I sat down at Kent’s feet and posed my questions from there. He was smiling and his face wasn’t the blanched white that had so worried me at Cordillera. There was no way he could catch the new lead pair, he explained, so he’d decided to take his time at this aid station. He hadn’t been feeling great either, and had decided to wait for me so we could run it in together. If I hadn’t been so dried out by the sun, I might have cried.
Finally looking around, I realized that this aid station was now staffed by one extremely helpful volunteer. It was Mat, the guy from my hometown that I’d befriended online before coming to the race. He’d pulled out of the race at the halfway point after his knee began to give him serious trouble. Now he was everywhere, filling my pack with fresh water and offering his personal snacks to the small party assembled in the only patch of shade for miles around. He kept going into his camper van, parked on the side of the dirt access road, and pulling out supplies he thought someone might be able to use. He was like a trail angel, particularly from my vantage point still parked on the dirt.
It was actually a little hard to leave that friendly little oasis, but leave we did: Kent and I running together again, taking turns in the lead. At first, Kent stayed in the front, encouraging me forward when my heaving stomach caused me to double over. I kept trying to nibble on things: pretzels, jellies, my beloved Chia Squeeze – but nothing was going down. It was a long 7 kilometers in the state I was in, but I kept putting one foot in front of the other. I had to spend so much energy on not vomiting that I crept along at a snail’s pace for a good stretch. It pained me to think that we’d gone slower rather than faster every quarter of the race.
But the race was not finished yet. At the last aid station, I collapsed in the shade once again. I gobbled down salt tabs and iced water. The taste and feeling of that water was so magical to me I knew I was in danger of overdoing it and actually making myself sick. We were briefly reunited with the 50 mile runner and two 16 milers, as well as a couple who’d started 5 hours late after mistakenly thinking the race was on Sunday instead.
There was just five more kilometers to go. My family would already be there, waiting for us. Of course, I could walk it in. But I didn’t want to – I wanted to run! My heart, lungs and legs all said yes – but my stomach heaved no, over and over again. Enter Coca-Cola, saving the day once again. At this checkpoint, there was ice-cold coke in the cooler. A cup of that went down easy, and the bubbles jostled the ill-feeling right out of my stomach and rushed energy through my veins.
I leaped to my feet and took off, Kent at my back. I had to take advantage of this sugar rush while it lasted! After a few kilometers of shuffling, I was finally running again and feeling good about it! I started doing a sort of calculus in my head. If the coke could just hold me over for 2.5 kilometers, that was halfway to the end. Around 2k from the finish, there was a steep drop-off where I knew we’d be able to see the finish. From there, I planned to use adrenaline to run the rest of the way.
And…that’s about how it worked! I led the rest of the way, slowing down to peek over the edge for a glimpse of the finish line. I didn’t see my family, but I sniffed our victory and ran a little harder. My eyes swept the horizon, taking in the sights one last time.
As we neared the end, we suddenly saw a lone figure running towards us. The 5o mile runner was behind us – so who could it be? It was Mat, the trail angel. He’d driven back to the start and re-entered the race with a fresh determination to finish. It was hotter than ever and there was a limp in his stride, and Kent and I were pretty much in awe. That guy has the heart of a champion: what an inspiration! To think he was starting again when we were just about to finish!
Soon, we were zooming down the final switchbacks, letting gravity speed us along. From above, I’d scanned the parking lot and been certain my dad’s car was missing. But now I saw a little trio standing near the cattle gate, and I knew it was them. I waved with my arms above my head, and they all waved back. I pointed them out to Kent. It was so incredibly cool to have my family there, witnessing our world! It was the first time ever we’d had a dedicated cheer squad – and it meant the world to both of us!
Just before the finish line, I slowed and called Kent to my side. We joined hands as we always do, and ducked under the cattle gate together. We ran across that thin orange line and into some sweet hugs. It was probably the best ending to a race ever.
We jogged a few feet over to the table to announce our completion to the organizers, as requested in the race rules. I sat in the shade briefly to down a cold bottle of water and assure my stomach that there was no reason to be so dramatic any more. All the while, I was chatting with my family and the other racers assembled under the scant shade of the tent.
Turns out, many people had dropped out of the race when the heat got too intense. This included many of the folks we’d chatted with at the start. In the 50k, 18 people registered, 15 people started and only 9 wound up finishing (I was delighted to later see Mat’s name among them!).
There was a bit of confusion as Kent went over to talk to the two guys who’d won the race, I went over to collect our little cooler, and my parents retreated to the air-conditioned car. Reuniting back under the shade of the tent, we learned that Kent was indeed in third place – his first podium finish! I was so stoked for him – and that was even after a tough second half! I hugged him tightly and jumped around, suddenly cured of my stomachache.
And me? I got my first first place finish. It was super neat, and the fact that the field was small did not stop me from feeling head-to-toe delighted.
This being a small event, there was no real ceremony. We got these unique coins instead of metals, and some small prizes. Kent got a mini cooling towel, and in the confusion, I got an additional trucker hat (Kent and I had each received one at the start for being ‘international’ participants!). We thanked the organizers and promised that we’d do another Eagle Endurance event in the future.
And then we left! It was a little strange not to linger around the finish line and greet everyone coming in like we usually do. It was really strange not to have time to process the race and stretch our hardworking muscles. But my folks were roasting in the 40 degree heat, and I didn’t want to keep them waiting any longer. Plus, we all had a very long drive home ahead of us…
So we bid a goodbye to The Badlands: a really unique little race in a really unique corner of the world. We left with a new personal record for the 50k distance and great memories.
Lessons Learned
Yes, this time there were definitely some lessons to be learned.
We ran The Badlands 50k in 7 hours and 21 minutes. That’s a 45 minute personal record over our 8:06 finish at the DMZ 50k! We overcame intense dry heat and a level of sun exposure that we’re not used to. We both performed to the best of our abilities – and placed well! And my family was there to share in our experience! That’s a whole lot to celebrate, and I’m incredibly grateful for a successful new adventure.
In ideal conditions, I know we could have raced faster. The trail was runnable from start to finish. And the way Kent was running in the beginning, he was on pace to run a 5 hour 50k! Even at the midpoint, he seemed poised to run under 6 hours- that’s amazing!
This time, it was my turn to falter. Kent just didn’t think he could keep pace with the fastest guys; he wasn’t really suffering in the heat this time. It seemed like he was doing remarkably well in the furnace of the Badlands! It was about time for me to learn what it is to suffer in the heat – and how to deal with it.
This race was a bit of a crash course for me in how to manage nausea. It definitely slowed me down and made it really difficult for me to fuel myself properly. It was a difficult cycle: increasing heat leading to increasing nausea leading to an inability to consume calories – on repeat!
For the first time, I felt that I couldn’t eat my favorite snacks. As that’s never happened to me before, I had no idea how to deal with it. My energy levels fell as my body rejected its nutrition.
The combination of feeling sick and my depleted energy stores made the last quarter of the race feel pretty tough. There were four things that really helped me pull through:
First of all, being patient with myself and my experience. When I was struggling, I reminded myself to look around and experience the beauty all around me. What animal had left those tracks? That cloud overhead looks like a buffalo! Staying in the present and feeling truly grateful for this new adventure took the edge off my stomach pain. I also reminded myself that my nausea was something I could learn from – because all experience is good experience in training!
Two and three were the aid station treats of bubbly soda and ice. I’ve had good experiences with drinking little cups of coke on several previous races, and it did not fail me in the Badlands! In fact, coke was the only thing I was able to stomach for the last half of the race! The only thing better was gulping ice cold water. But ice helped me in another, more essential way: for the first time, and out of desperation, I started stuffing ice into my bandana and sports bra. I could actually feel this lowering my body temperature and alleviating my symptoms of suffering.
Finally, the kindness of Kent. I actually wished that he’d continued contesting the lead. But he assured me that wasn’t in the cards – and that he hadn’t simply been waiting for me. It was a bit of a role reversal: this time, it was my turn to slowly struggle on while he called encouragement to me! As much as I felt frustrated by this turn of events at the time, I definitely think running along with my partner on the final stretch gave me strength. He always knows just how to make me laugh.
All in all, I’m so happy that we decided to wedge this race into our schedule and have my family join us for an ultra road trip! The Badlands are beautiful, and I’m so grateful for what we accomplished and learned on this adventure.
Do you want to run in the Badlands? Review this year’s race on ultrasignup.com – and stay tuned for details about next year’s race. Or, check out the organizer’s website for more Eagle Endurance races!
**An important note and thank-you: I took literally three photos of this race, thanks to actually racing the beginning and struggling through a stomachache in the end, so this post would not be possible without the kindness of my sister and husband. Thank you Emma and Kent! <3 **
Only a true Simmons would turn to coca cola in a time of need! Great post and how lovely to have the fam come support you!
My thoughts exactly! A childhood of training led me to this moment 😉 It was AWESOME to have the fam there, sharing in our world a little. And, as Kent says, the road trip was the real ultra – and we all won!