The first time he tried it, Akos Konya blistered his feet, fell asleep from exhaustion and had periods of hallucination.
And he almost won.
Last year, in his first crack at the Kiehl’s Badwater Ultramarathon, a 135-mile foot race from the bottom of Death Valley to the Mt. Whitney trailhead 8,360 feet above sea level, the 32-year-old Hungarian resident of Oceanside finished second out of a field of 90 runners.
He says that crossing the finish line in Northern California was the best moment of his running career.
“I can’t even express it,” he said. “I’ll never forget it.”
Billed as the most difficult running race in the world, the Badwater beckons to the globe’s best distance runners.
“If you’re an (ultramarathon) runner, it’s the holy grail,” Race Director Chris Kostman said. “Badwater is the place.”
Konya got the bug more than two years ago during a vacation to Death Valley, but his preparation began as a teenager going orienteering with his cousin. A running sport that involves navigating with a map and compass, it quickly showed him where his strengths lay.
“I was probably a better runner than a map reader,” he said, laughing. “We’d always get lost.”
These days, Konya’s balky knees make longer distances (and slower paces) easier to negotiate, and ultramarathons — 50-milers, 24-hour races, relays — have become his specialty.
“The longer the better for me,” he said, and there are few solo races in the country longer than Badwater. The distance, however, isn’t what makes the Badwater so difficult.
“The elevation (a 13,000-foot rise over the 135-mile course) and the distance don’t matter,” he said. “It’s just the heat that can kill you.”
Literally.
The Death Valley sun cooks runners for the race’s first 42 miles, where temperatures rise into the 120s (last year’s high was 123), and the road’s surface can heat to almost 200.
Runners try anything to prepare their bodies for the conditions, including piling on layers of clothing before training runs during the hottest part of the day.
“I don’t think it’s really healthy,” Konya said of the artificial heating method. “The longest I ever ran was eight miles, and your body can’t breathe, so I don’t think it’s good, but it prepares you for the heat.”
Instead, Konya, a manager at Ruby’s Diner on the Oceanside Pier, heads to Anza-Borrego desert on his rare days off to grind out miles in the summer heat.
“When I’m not working, I’m running,” he said. “The most important thing is to build up your mileage without getting hurt.”
The heat also means that a runner’s crew is critical. Each competitor is trailed in a vehicle by a team of three to six crewmembers, whose responsibilities include monitoring their runner’s physical and mental condition.
“They have a really hard job too, taking care of me,” he said. “They can motivate me. They can tell me what’s going on around me. They can check my mental (state) to see if I’m totally there.”
Hydration, however, is where they prove their worth.
“If you’re thirsty during the race, it’s too late,” he said. “You’re not allowed to be thirsty or hungry at all, because you can’t catch up if you’re thirsty.”
Kostman confirms this, saying runners lose an average of a liter of liquid per mile in the hottest sections of the course.
Another key for Konya will be pacing.
In last year’s race, he started with the first of three waves of runners and after pulling ahead of his nearest competitor ran by himself for 100 miles to the finish line. This year, he will run with the third wave, which includes a number of past Badwater champions and renowned distance runners.
“Last year, not too many people were around me, which was good — I didn’t know what was going on behind me,” he said. “This year, everybody’s going to be there, so it’s going to be difficult.”
Things are different this year for Konya, who arrives in Death Valley not as a novice, but as a veteran, and a successful veteran at that. His goal, however, hasn’t changed.
“Just to be at the finish line, just to finish it in 60 hours, is the most beautiful feeling ever,” he said. “Ultra-running is not for a time, it’s just to finish.”
On July 24, Konya hopes to have déjà vu. He hopes to speed walk up the race’s final 13-mile ascent (“you just have to survive”) and cross the finish line for the second time in two years. That, he says, will be success.
“There’s definitely more pressure (after last year’s high finish), but I try not to think about it,” he said. “It doesn’t matter who I’m running with. This is my body and this is how I’ve prepared, and I can’t do better than I’m capable of.”

