Coming Home Over nine mountains, 30 miles and 10,000 feet vertical gain, By Bethany Adams

The trail wound upwards and I whimpered. On a track of golden sand my trailrunner slid against loose pebbles and I stumbled back, frustrated at the precious energy I had lost from a poor foot placement.

Time seemed to be moving too quickly and my feet too slowly. Was I going to be able to beat the record?

On my eighth peak of the day, Bear Den, I was ascending 1300 feet in less than a mile, but all I could think about was Catamount, the final peak that was even steeper. Why had I saved the steepest mountains for the end?

Under a canopy of lush hardwoods, the forest was darker than I’d expected it to be at 5pm and fear crept in. The math was not adding up. The uphill was not ending. My IQ was lowering and I knew that this spiral sometimes ended in a DNF.

“Just keep hiking,” I put my head down and looked at my dusty trailrunners. “All you have to do is hike.” 

When I moved back to Lake Placid, New York in the fall of 2024, I found a passion for the mountains again. Recovering from an era of burnout, I was reminded of the innocent love and joy I once had for simply being in the mountains. Not trying to break a record, not trying to get a photo for a sponsor and not trying to uphold an image of strength and power… I wanted to be in them again, just to be in them.

And right out my back door was Cobble Hill, one of the Lake Placid 9ers. Small yet punchy, with steep rock slabs and views of the High Peaks, it became my quick go to. After multiple reps up and around Cobble, I knew the most fitting homecoming would be to go for the 9er FKT record. When all added up, the route consists of nine peaks for an approximate total of thirty miles with 10,000 feet of elevation gain, plus an hour and half of drive time between the peaks.

https://fastestknowntime.com/route/lake-placid-9er-challenge-ny

The training began on the snow and ice pack of March and continued to the melt of April. Sections were linked together, splits jotted down and gear tested. VJ Ultra 3’s arrived and were quickly put to use. Then the waiting began in the drearyness of May. Weeks went by with no sun, only clouds and rain and my legs grew restless waiting for the ideal conditions.

By the end of May, there were a few hot and sunny days. Impatiently, I packed my gear and told my husband, who was going to act as my driver and pit crew, that I wanted to go for it.

“Are you sure?” He asked, knowing that my systems aren’t built to go fast in the heat.

“Um-hum,” I nodded, inwardly comparing myself to other athletes who go out and push themselves in harsher elements.

It’s in these moments, I purposely overlook a diagnosis that I’ve had since the age of 10. Ulcerative Colitis, a chronic inflammation of the lower intestines that causes pain and physical complications. Somedays I feel completely normal. No pain, no fears. But, ultra distances are a trigger. Heat is a trigger. And I know I must proceed with caution. Even if I don’t admit that to others.

So, I went forward with my first attempt. The air was humid and by the time I reached the summit of Catamount, I was completely saturated in a film of salty perspiration. On Bear Den, the hardwood leaves weren’t fully unfurled and the sun beat down on my face and shoulders. With the climbing temperatures, my motivation waned. But, I was staying on pace and continued to Cobble. Back in the truck after the third peak, the temperature gauge read 86 and I felt the first abdominal pangs signaling to take it easy. I chalked it up as a training day.

My pent up energy had produced a false start, but with it came a clear mind: If I wanted the fastest time possible, I had to wait. On my split sheet, I jotted down my time with an asterisk: Temperatures in the 50s-60s, no rain.

Thankfully, June came with more sunshine and moderate weather. The trails dried out, and mid month, the perfect day presented itself: A mix of sun and clouds with a high around 58 degrees. Because I had started with Catamount on my first attempt, I decided to reverse my order and start in Keene with Big Crow. 

Adrian parked the truck and I began stretching. The air was chilly and I didn’t want to peel off my fleece top, but I knew my body would warm quickly on the steep incline of my first mountain. Gear was organized in crates with extra shoes and socks laid out on the backseat. On the tailgate, I placed a squeezie and organic fig bar. Leaning across the front seat, I kissed my husband and little terrier, “goodbye,” started my watch at 10 am and ran towards Big Crow.

The trails were dry and my Ultra 3’s flowed seamlessly, picking their way between rocks and roots and firmly grabbing on the rock slabs. Up the short .7 miles in twelve minutes, I took a photo before jogging down.

“Well, that’s the way to do it,” one man stood to the side of the trail and his group cheered me on.

“Thank you!” I yelled over my shoulder, always appreciating support on the trail.

Back to the parking lot with twenty minutes elapsed, I blew a kiss to Adrian, grabbed a water bottle with electrolyte mix, pocketed a fig bar and headed towards Hurricane. For a mile, the trail was gentle and I forced myself to consume some calories, even though I was running on pure adrenaline and not hungry at all.

The incline up Hurricane began after passing through a stunning forest of white birch trees that glimmered in the morning light. My pace slowed and I focused on centering my breath.

“Good morning,” I smiled at a pair of women, boosted at the sight of sisterhood in the mountains.

“Are you Bethany?” One asked and I stopped at the sound of my own name,  “Oh, I follow you! You’re such an inspiration.”

“Ah, thanks!” I rested on my trekking poles. “What’s your name?”

“Shayna, and this is my sister Joelle.”

“Nice to meet you, I always love seeing sisters on trail together,” I said, thinking of my own two sisters who I’d both introduced to mountains.

I told Shayna and Joelle that I was going for the 9er FKT and they wished me well. There is something powerful about revealing your intention at the right time to give you the right momentum.

Darting up the rocky chutes of Hurricane, I crossed over the open ridgeline and tapped the steel firetower. Lots of curious eyes followed my movements, wondering why I wasn’t stopping to enjoy the summit.

But as I ran down the mountain, I was met only with enthusiastics, “You go girl!”

The truck was parked right next to the trailhead and the two minute car ride went by in a flash. My little dog squirmed in the back, excited to see me and I gave him a hug before switching my water bottle and hopping out at the Baxter trailhead. Switchbacks on the 1.5 mile ascent and descent of Baxter gave my legs time to warm up and cool down before the fifteen minute car ride to Pitchoff.

Ten miles and three mountains in, I sat in the back of the truck and switched my shoes and socks. In the confined space, my calves tightened and I reached for a bottle of electrolytes. The clock ran, just passing the 2.5 hour mark, and at 12:40pm, I jumped out and headed up Pitchoff. Within half a mile, stunning views of Cascade Mountain and Cascade Lakes opened to my right. A steep mountain with a rocky trail, I slowed my pace and meditated on the journey, completely submitting myself to the here and now.

With Pitchoff complete, Adrian dropped me off at the Mount Van Hoevenburg complex and I began my fifth mountain. Slated to take me about an hour, he drove into Lake Placid to pick up more salty food and another gallon of water. The newly developed sustainable trail of Mount Van Hoevenberg felt amazing, never entering a super steep grade. It was all very runnable.

Back in the car, resupplied with food and drink, I felt very fresh. The next two peaks, Mount Jo and Cobble, paired together nicely because of their short distances (Even though Mount Jo’s steepness packed a good burn to the quads).

On Cobble, I glanced up through the tree canopy often, reflecting on the mountain that helped me come through the other side of my burnout. In the years of the pandemic there had been so much loss and change in my life. It felt like I only ventured to the mountains to survive and keep my head above the rising grief.

But, today, I could feel pure contentment and joy again. Back in the truck, I sang along to the radio. Everything was flowing: The weather, the trail conditions, my digestive system. And because the day had been rolling along so seamlessly, the bonk on Bear Den was all the more surprising.

Suddenly, I felt alone. Weak. Anxious. Similar to all those feelings I’d experienced so much during the pandemic. My mind spiraled in the dark forest, wondering when the uphill would end and worrying about my legs on the final steeper peak which would be even more isolated and lonelier than Bear Den.

The trail wound upwards and finally I saw a swatch of light break through the trees, indicating the summit was near. On the other side of the forest, the fierce triangular peak of Whiteface Mountain stood bathed in late afternoon sunshine and I felt a strong presence that I was not alone.

The parking lot for Catamount was empty, like I suspected it would be at six o’clock in the evening. Eight hours in, I’d covered twenty-six miles with eight thousand feet of vertical gain and had two hours to complete four miles with 1500 feet elevation gain to break the Fastest Known Time.

“All you have to do is hike,” I repeated to myself and headed into the moss lined trail.

Catamount is a stunning peak that stands alone. As I made my way through the rocky chutes and patches of blueberry plants, I thought of Shayna and her sister, I thought of the lonely era of the pandemic, and lastly, I thought about the year I began climbing mountains.

From the summit, layers upon blue layers of mountains stretched before me and I realized I’d never been alone. I’d only stopped coming to the mountains because somewhere in the haze, I’d found them to be a lonely place.

And even though I stood alone on this mountain top, support was all around me and I knew that I’d made my way back home.

On 6/13, Bethany Adams set the supported FKT for the Lake Placid 9er at 9 hours, 36 minutes and 24 seconds.

https://fastestknowntime.com/fkt/bethany-adams-lake-placid-9er-challenge-ny-2025-06-13