How I Used My Daughter’s College Fund to Finance My Badwater 135 Attempt–And DNF’d at Mile 23
Regret, sunburn, and possibly the worst investment I’ve ever made.
by Gabriel Huseas
It started with a dream.
A dream to conquer Badwater—the world’s toughest footrace.
135 miles across Death Valley.
Mountains. Heat. Pain.
Legacy.
Also, a $1,600 entry fee, a mandatory crew, rental vans, gear, ice, sunscreen rated for lava, and roughly $7,000 in what the IRS would legally define as “non-essential expenses”.
Do you think I have that kind of cash just lying around?
No. But do you know who did?
My daughter.
The Borrowing Phase
Her college savings account was just sitting there.
Gaining interest.
Boring.
Meanwhile, I was entering my peak—grinding out grueling 40-mile weeks.
I saw the funds. I saw the application.
And I thought:
“She’s smart. She can get scholarships.
But me? I only have one shot at this.”
Training that Didn’t Happen
I printed a 24-week training plan.
Then I ignored it.
I heat trained by walking around in a hoodie during lunch breaks and once napped in my car with the windows up.
I watched every Badwater documentary I could get my hands on and convinced myself mental toughness could replace actual mileage.
Spoiler: It can’t.
RACE DAY
Death Valley, California
118 degrees Fahrenheit
Mile 0: Full of Adrenaline
Mile 1: Feeling good. Pumped. #LFG!
Mile 3: “This sun feels… personal.”
Mile 8: Forgot to stay on the white line. My shoes melted off. Good thing I always have at least 2 pairs on me at all times.
Mile 10: “Is this really all of the ice you guys brought?”
Mile 17: My crew said I looked “damp in a concerning way.”
“That’s crazy,” I said, “this is dry heat.”
Mile 17.2: I was concerned. I didn’t let them know. I picked up the pace.
Mile 23: I was horizontal, apologizing to a lizard for stepping near its rock.
It wasn’t long before I was in a drunken stupor. And I hadn’t even cracked the celebratory fireball I allocated painfully limited cooler space to.
I didn’t know what was happening. Being the data freak I am I went straight to my notes to investigate.
“How in the world did I end up like this?”
Mile 1: Pace: 7:21 min/mile (not my fastest but feeling great)
Mile 3: Pace: 9:40 min/mile (I thought the heat would be worse, honestly)
Mile 10: Pace: 18:50 min/mile (slowed a little, I’ll make it up on the downhills)
Mile 17: Pace: 30:15 min/mile (not gonna lie, I can’t remember the last time I ran this far.) My crew is acting like somethings wrong.
Mile 17.2: Okay, maybe somethings wrong.
Post-Race Breakdown (Financial and Emotional)
My DNF was clean.
No finish line.
No belt buckle.
Just a $7,000 gut punch and a silent ride back through the desert while my crew avoided eye contact.
No body said anything for the rest of the night. But, if you want to look on the bright side, we were first in line at the post race pizza party the following night.
My daughter asked how the race went.
I told her:
“It was a valuable learning experience.”
She asked:
“What did you learn?”
I said:
“College is overrated.”
Conclusion:
Would I do it again?
Of course not.
But also, that’s exactly what I said after my last 6 ultras.
…
Ask me again in a week or two.
