I ran over 100 miles through Death Valley in record heat after recovering from chemo — here's what it was like

Four days before starting my journey, I arrived in Death Valley National Park with the primary purpose of trying to adapt to the heat.

I also wanted the opportunity to scout certain sections of the desert before actually embarking on the trip.

There was a 10-mile section in the latter part of my planned crossing that I knew could be flooded. Sure enough, I got trapped by these lakes encrusted with salt brine.

I was breaking through, sinking up to my knees in mudwater that felt like it was boiling. And all I could think was, "Oh my god, I'm so glad I came and scouted this because if I hit this at nighttime, I'd be a goner."

This is me about 25 miles into my journey. I'd just descended several thousand feet in elevation, having started about 7,000 feet above sea level in the mountains.

Up there, in the mountains, it's very easy to take the wrong path down. Luckily I made good choices and I didn't get lost.

After the mountains, I ended up on this Death Valley river wash, which is a dried-up riverbed.

It was really hot here — probably around the low hundreds — but I hadn't yet dropped down to the lowest altitude, where it got even hotter.

I've got my poles out because some of the terrain was starting to get rough.

The photo on the left was taken at my second of about a dozen resupply stations. It's relatively early into my journey. That's why I still look like I'm having fun.

Having resupply stations throughout allowed me to pack relatively light and move quickly. The photo on the right shows one of the Osprey backpacks I used during the trip.

I didn't eat a lot because my stomach was constantly off, but I drank a ton — probably between 50 to 70 liters total.

Water wasn't going to cut it in this extreme heat. I was mostly drinking electrolytes formula from Xact Nutrition, because that's what I needed to stay properly hydrated and keep my muscles going.

After I left each station, my buddies, who brought the cooler and equipment, would clean it all up so nothing was left behind.

Besides the heat, one of the biggest challenges with Death Valley is navigation.

I spend my life navigating. It's one of my strengths. I started this life of adventure at age 30 and since then I've navigated mountains, jungles, and deserts.

But navigating the Death Valley river washes, like the one shown here, are tricky — especially at night — because I need to pick the right braid, or stream.

If you have the wrong braid, and you don't notice because it's night time, you could end up back in the mountains or so far from your path that you'll run out of water and die of exposure.

You need to take the route with the best terrain to move as quickly as possible with the least amount of effort so that you can get to your next resupply.

There was just a sliver of a moon when I was there. At night, the skies were mesmerizing.

I used the Milky Way as a navigational tool, so I wasn't constantly having to turn my phone on and off.

The temperature was still in the mid-90s, but it was a relief from the daytime highs that neared 130 degrees. I definitely had more energy at night.

The guy you see here is one of my buddies. You can still see me, though — I'm the tiny light in the distance on the left.

This was around 74 miles in, and this photo basically describes the bulk of what my journey was like.

There were ankle-twisting rocks that felt like they were a billion degrees and I'm just trying to make my way through this very rocky, unforgiving terrain.

This photo was taken at about 80 miles in. I had finished crossing through and navigating around that massive salt brine-encrusted lake region, which I'd scouted in the days prior.

I reached my resupply with my buddy Kent and I was like, "Dude, I got to lay in the back of the truck for a minute. I cannot move."

I was so wasted and exhausted. You can see me in the truck looking at my maps on my phone trying to figure out my next section of the route.

This photo shows me towards the end, getting near the 48-hour mark.

I was walking across a combo of salt and dried clay. It was crunchy, uneven, and most steps I would break through the crust so that the dirt would spill over the tops of my shoes enough to rob me of all my energy.

I was destroyed at this point. It was about 122 degrees, and I remember seeing the guys at the next resupply station taking a photo of me. I was thinking, "Oh my god, I don't even know if I can actually make it to those guys."

What got me through it was I reminded myself that I chose to do this. That, in reality, complaining wasn't an option. Post-chemo, I'm grateful that I'm healthy and physically capable of doing what I love to do.

I have this joke to myself about Death Valley: If this terrain doesn't make you miserable enough, just walk another few kilometers because there's always another challenge.

I went from the dry cracked clay into these tiny little sand dunes that seemed endless.

I had to go up and down, up and down, up and over these little dunes to get around them.

The ground there wasn't much better than the cracked clay. It was soft powdery sand that I would sink up to my ankle in.

But I knew I was almost done and that kept me focused and get to the finish.

This is me at the finish at Badwater Basin after more than 105 miles.

I am intact, my feet are good, I'm alive. A little bit sunburned.

It was unbelievably difficult. But to be honest with you, I couldn't have asked for it to go better.

The dedication I spent on training for six months prior, gear selection, and scouting trips, paid off and made it a success.

This photo of my feet was taken after the trip was over at Badwater Basin. They're not in bad shape at all, and I didn't have any blisters. That tape on my leg was actually from one of the earlier scouting missions, pre-trip.

I did the entire trip without socks. I just like the feel in my shoes. I use Kahtoola Gators that go over my shoes to keep the sand, dirt, and grit out.