- August 12, 2026
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The 97th mile was supposed to be just one of a miserable 135.
It was cooler than several of the previous miles, with the night offering refuge from the day’s stifling heat, and it might’ve felt a bit longer as sleep deprivation clouded the mind.
But Brad Hamilton had already traversed a punishing, unforgiving 96 entirely on foot. Around 3 a.m. July 29, nearing the home stretch of the three-day ultramarathon, No. 97 became the last.
“I literally went from running, to a walk, to not being able to put weight on my foot in three minutes,” Hamilton said. “That’s how fast it declined.”
The tendon that connects the foot to the shin bone in his left leg wasn’t a problem, until it was. He felt the effects of tendonitis — sudden and severe.
It wasn’t the ending he imagined when he began the Badwater 135 at 9 p.m. July 27, standing 282 feet below sea level in Death Valley. The 55-year-old Sarasota resident had every intention of completing the grueling journey to Whitney Portal at 8,374 feet above sea level.
Injuries, though, are an all-too-real risk accepted by anyone who dares to attempt the world’s toughest foot race. They can be untimely, and devastating. As a daring athlete himself, Hamilton knew that well before he made his own attempt.
Ultramarathons push the human body to its limits. Sometimes, those limits push back. The battle is exactly why he loves these races.
To him, they’re beautifully brutal.
“It’s the barbaric nature of it,” Hamilton said. “When you’re out there, grinding out the miles, there’s no fluff. It’s as raw as it gets. I like taking my mind and body to that place where you’ve got to push through and survive.”
At the advice of his wife and fellow ultra runner, Megan Hamilton, he decided in January 2024 to pursue Badwater 135 — the ultramarathon to end all ultramarathons.
He needed to complete four 100-mile races just to apply, but he already ran the Keys 100 in May 2022. To follow, he tackled the Daytona 100 in December 2024, Long Haul 100 in January 2025 and Miami 100 in September 2025.
Still, only 100 runners are hand-picked annually. There was no guarantee he would make the field in Death Valley just because he finished all four.
When it was announced this past February he was chosen, there were people in his inner circle who thought him mad.
“Even some of our ultra friends were like, ‘Yeah, you’re crazy,’” Brad said.
“And they say it with a smile, knowing that they’re crazy, too," Megan added.
His training hit a major hiccup in late January. The arch in his right foot collapsed while he was doing a virtual run of Badwater and trying to cover 267 miles in 31 days.
For two months, he could only do upper-body work. So he leaned on his coach, two-time Badwater finisher Karl Keltner of Kansas City, to guide him when his feet failed him.
Discipline and creativity were essential to Brad’s process. To acclimate to Death Valley’s climate, for example, he had to make his evening commute just about as miserable as possible.
He would change into workout clothes before leaving his office in St. Petersburg, get into his car and roll up all the windows with the air conditioner turned off. That ensured his hour-long drive home to Sarasota would be at 120-130 degrees Fahrenheit.
When he got home, he would proceed with his workout for the night. Those workouts — once his foot healed — were rigorous in every sense of the word.
“The growth comes from your recovery,” Brad said. “A lot of your training is back-to-back runs, so you’re always running on tired legs, maybe five days a week. That might involve a 10-miler on Friday followed by 30 on Saturday and another 10 on Sunday.”
The challenges of Badwater 135 are numerous, and daunting.
Its path covers three mountain ranges with around 14,600 feet of cumulative ascent and roughly 6,100 feet of cumulative descent. The race is run on a 65 mile-per-hour highway where, in some cases, there’s very little shoulder.
Over the final 13 miles, there’s a consistent incline of 9-11%, constituting the world’s toughest half-marathon. Temperatures regularly exceed 120 degrees Fahrenheit.
“The heat is mind-boggling. We sit here in Florida, and it’s hot, but it isn’t like a hair dryer on you that you cannot escape,” said Megan, who acted as Brad's crew chief/pacer during Badwater. “You think, ‘Holy moly, how’s he going to run in it?’”
Sleep deprivation is perhaps the most challenging element of all. The race is nonstop, and must be completed within a 45-hour time limit. All gas — no brakes.
Brad believed he was ready come race time. Ever since completing an Ironman triathlon in 2010, he has believed he can train his body for whatever he wants to accomplish.
For 96 miles, and in a crucible like no other, his body took the punishment.
Then, it couldn't take any more.
“I took some ibuprofen, slept for 10 minutes, woke up and started trying to tape my foot,” Brad said. “We just could not find a way to mitigate the pain.”
There was a concern he might not be able to run again if he kept going. That outweighed his desire to finish what he started preparing for over two years ago.
He loves ultramarathons too much to put running behind him. He cherishes every tired step and every drop of sweat.
The beautiful brutality of it all might just bring him back to Badwater.
“It’s too soon to tell,” Brad said. “I probably will, just because I know how I am.”
