Even for the most casual runner, the math looks possible: Can Jarom Thurston complete about two miles every hour?

What makes this journey so much more difficult than elementary calculation and hobby exercise is what forces the 34-year-old Payson native to put himself through every inferno imaginable.

On the hottest days, he runs. And many times, with a tire hooked to him. On the most scorching days, he sits in a sauna. He has to.

Because Thurston has to run this steady, seemingly manageable pace starting July 14 in the harshest of conditions -- Death Valley, and the Badwater Ultramarathon.

He'll have 60 hours to finish 135 miles in the California desert, across 2 1/2 mountain ranges in America's most notorious natural oven.

"I know I can do the distance," Thurston said. "The biggest question is whether I can handle the heat. It's the type of place where everyone runs on the white lines of the roads. Otherwise, it'll melt your shoes that much faster."

Maybe this best sums up Thurston, who abhorred running until he became hooked about eight years ago: His license plate is QXIQMEU.

Other cars have followed his SUV, just to get a chance to ask what it means.

It's Portuguese Brazilian, short for the phrase that means, basically, "How cool is that?"

The smile stretches wide on Thurston's soul-patched face when he discusses his running prowess, and how just talking about it makes him want to take a jog -- so what that the rest of us are begging for air conditioning? He explains that, yes, most people who know him think his recreation is insane.

Yes, Death Valley is a big deal. Finishing would be special enough. But his goal in temperatures that routinely will surpass 125 degrees is to do it 12 hours ahead of deadline, 48 hours, as that would earn him the prestigious buckle that every ultra marathon runner craves.

To think, 83 people will pay $500 for that chance. Thurston is among the 38 rookies who will get the prime start time of 6 a.m. That's given to the newbies.

The more experienced racers will either go at 8 a.m. or 10 a.m to start the 2 1/2-day race.

"I just feel really fortunate to have a chance to be a part of it," Thurston said. "I trained with a woman in Brazil last year who was getting ready for Badwater. My experience with the race, being on her crew, I think was a big reason why I'm getting to participate. They don't just let anyone go out there."

Thurston has a 9-to-5 job (he's an analyst for Convergys) and a 24-hour passion.

Married to a Brazilian named Sandra, with 6-year-old daughter Taila, he's used all hours of the day to run.

Last Saturday, he did a 30-miler from about midnight to 6 a.m. He'll head to Lake Mead this weekend for a 50-mile "gauge race." It starts at 8 a.m., which will give his body a better idea of how prepared it is for Death.

He's done several other ultramarathons -- ultra meaning anything that extends a race beyond 26.2 miles.

"If it's your passion, you're going to find time to do it," Thurston said. "People tell me all the time, 'I'd do it, but I don't have time to run.' If you really wanted to, you can do anything you want. There are 24 hours in a day. You don't have to sleep eight hours every night."

Maybe you've seen Thurston around Utah Valley, doing unorthodox things to get ready for races that go beyond 100 miles. It's not practical to run that far all of the time, so he has ways to speed up the pain by enhancing the workload.

Around the mountain trails and roads near home, he can be seen with his tire trailing him.

He jogged around the Smith Fieldhouse track at BYU wearing a backpack full of weights, plus extra gravity beaters on his ankles, for 7 1/2 hours last December.

He fears it's his fault some treadmills have had to be changed out at his local gym.

Thurston mostly trains alone, but he'll go the distance to find company.

He's jogged backroads from Payson to Orem just to meet a friend for a jog. He did that just last month.

"It's 26 miles from (Payson) to Orem -- that's a marathon," the human Mapquest bluntly points out.

He's ran at the Utah Valley and Salt Lake marathons. It's not quite fair to say he's been "in" them, because he usually doesn't pay the entry fee. He's just there to offer support to a friend and also get some training in. He doesn't need the T-shirt or medal, and he'll bring his own water and food.

"Just talking about running makes me want to run," said Thurston, while showing off his meticulous computerized spreadsheet which logs his miles.

He ran 2,467 last year; about 1,100 in 2008. Basic math: About 200 miles every month.

Thurston gets the urge to run far honestly. His brother, Heath, runs triathlons and has been part of the most famous bike-swim-run (Ironman) in Hawaii.

Father, Gary, is a pharmacist who cherishes marathons and ran them for years. Now he bikes distances that would cost a pretty penny for drivers.

The Thurstons, like so many runners, get giddy just thinking about a runner's high -- when those endorphins start blasting and everything feels good and possible.

Gary notes that Jarom was a state-level swimmer at Payson High. Like the other Thurston children, he stuck to the water until marriage.

"I didn't realize how big of a deal it was until you grew up and try to do a marathon yourself," Thurston said. "What drives me to run 100 miles? I don't know. Just the challenge to see if I can do it, I guess."

Thurston is not built like a prototypical distance runner: 5-foot-10, 185 pounds. He's pushed it all to every extreme. He didn't finish Lake Mead last year, upset that he had enough drinking water but not enough to douse himself. Another race, he lost time while hallucinating. So exhausted from being up 40-plus hours, he wasted precious time "looking for treasure," Thurston recalls, shaking his head.

Going from the lowest elevation in North America (280 feet below sea level) to the finish line at Mt. Whitney Portal (8,360), Thurston knows there will be a lot of strain at Badwater. Father, brother and a brother in-law will be the crew that provides everything from encouraging words to ice and food.

Thurston's grown to like the agony, ever since he ran a marathon eight years ago and hated how he felt for days afterward. Go figure, he swore he'd never run such distances again.

He'll try to appreciate the Badwater journey, no matter how far and hot it seems.

"Every race is so different," Thurston said. "You just want to see if you're going to make it. Can I go that distance? Can I push myself to do it? Some of the best races I've had were the ones I'd be halfway through and thinking I'd have to quit."

INFO BOX

Jarom Thurston, 34, Payson

• What: Will run in the annual Badwater Ultramarathon on July 14-16. The race is in Death Valley, Calif., and the 83 competitors will get 60 hours to complete 135 miles. The race extends through 2 1/2 mountain ranges, starting below sea level and finishing at nearly 8,400 feet.

• Why: Well, because he can. Badwater is the Super Bowl of ultramarathons. Thurston participated as a helper last year for a Brazilian woman. His experience and success in various ultramarathons, plus his familiarity with the physical toll needed for Death Valley, is a big reason Thurston feels like he received a chance to pay the $500 entry fee. His biggest concern is not the distance, but the heat: Temperatures will probably surpass 125 degrees often.

• Charity: Most Badwater runners compete for a cause. Thurston's is Sturge-Weber Foundation. His niece was born with the Sturge-Weber Syndrome, which occurs when defected cells from a portwine stain go deeper in the tissue, eyes and brain cells and cause complications like seizures. He's trying to promote awareness of the rare affliction.

He also hopes that a good finish might land him some sponsors (his personal Web site is jaromsrunningpage.blogspot.com.)

You might be surprised to know: Rookies get the best treatment at the race, with the earliest start time. The race goes in three waves. Thurston will be among the 38 rookies that begin around 6 a.m. -- because they haven't done it before. There are 62 men and 21 women. The average age is 47.