by Rebecca Sutter

                My story is a little different in that 5 years ago on August 17th I was told I would not run again. I was in a hospital bed post L4-L5 laminectomy with residual foot drop and parasthesia of my entire left leg. I accepted that statement from my neurosurgeon, ecstatic to be out of the excruciating pain that I had been in for weeks. My focus had been on marathon paddling anyways, and he didn't say anything about sitting in a boat. 

Two years after my surgery I began canoe racing again. Three years after, I began cross training on my bike and swimming along with paddling. This year I raced in my first Kort Loppet (25K) placing third, tried my first Adventure Race and finished strong, and decided to try my first ultra trail run. I knew I could hike at a pretty quick pace and go for a long time. I also proved I could run through the woods during my adventure race.

 Training for this race was a new experience for me. As my obsessive self tends to do, I read, and asked questions and grilled every runner that I know about ultra marathon training trying to get any advantage I could to ease the pain of training. As it turns out, none of my friends had ever done anything beyond marathon distance. At least not in a race, or in a single shot. And the ones that had never responded to my queries. I guess they decided to let me learn on my own. I can't run on roads for any long distance as the pounding seems to shoot right up my leg into my spine. So all of my long runs were on the D&H Railroad grade that runs from Saranac Lake to Onchiota. It's nearly 10 miles one way and flat as a pancake. I supplemented with 2 long speed hikes at elevation during my peak weeks and running intervals on Baker Mt. in SL. Cross training on my road and mountain bikes was key to keeping fresh, uninjured legs. 

The race started off great, and I just fell into a rhythm. All of the runners that passed me advised that I was looking good and running a smart pace. I was quite happy knowing that the only pace I could go, was a good one. All went fine and my plans for speed hiking interspersed with running was going well until I got near Spruce Lake and almost went to the left at the lean to. Thankfully, the beer drinking campers pointed me in the right direction. Shortly thereafter, I stopped for my first water break and realized it was extremely difficult to fill a bladder in a stream. I spent about 5 minutes trying to get a damned liter of water scooped up into my bladder. (Note to self...bring filling container next year) The next 7 miles were uneventful except for the near fatal impaling on the footbridge with the giant nails sticking out. Good thing I do my push-ups regularly. I came to the halfway point with a guy named Rick that had kept my mind distracted with stories of the woods and running. He decided to eat an apple on the bridge and I continued on realizing that I hadn't seen another woman in a while. 

I think we were at the Mud Pond outlet. I caught up to a runner that was battling the heat, and we ran together for about 5 miles. As the heat got the better of him, I kept pace and pulled away. At mile 22.5 I stopped to get water on a footbridge and met a man with a British accent who kindly filled my bladder and then took a deep gulp off his bottle of untreated water. I stared in amazement. He explained that he was on Rx for Lyme's Disease and nothing could live in his body. Cool...We ran/speed- hiked together for a while and came upon a Ranger who informed us that I was the first female through. I felt a rush of excitement and prayed that I wouldn't bonk or have the nagging soreness in my right hip flexor get too bad to move. Amazingly, I had stayed well hydrated and my electrolytes were good and I had energy, still. It was sometime in here that I got off trail for 10 minutes or so and getting back on took another 10 minutes, so I lost 20 minutes. 

Eventually I pulled away from the "antibiotic man" and was running alone again. I kept looking for sneaker prints in the mud to make sure I was staying on trail. The deluge that came around mile 25 was relentless, and soon I was running in an inch of standing water through a grassland area. It was flat so I knew I had to be nearing the road. Every time I heard a rumble of thunder I thought about the aluminum stay in my Nathan HPL #759 and how great it would act as a lightning rod. By the time I got to the sign that told me I had 4.4 miles to go, my hip flexor was pretty stiff. It was refusing to let me swing my leg all the way back. I began speed hiking and wondering if any women had passed me while I was off trail. I resigned myself to remembering how far I had come and what my goal was for the race. 

I wanted to finish uninjured under 10 hours, and for all intents and purposes, I was almost there. Thus, I was overjoyed...until I hit the dirt road and shuffled the longest 1.5 miles of my life. Ugggg...I simply could not make my right leg run. When I saw the cabin and sign-in area, my hip pain disappeared and I began to jog. I came in over the dam elated that I had finished well and reached my goals. Then I was told I was the first female in, and almost fell over. I went to my car to retrieve my lucky stone and give it a few rubs in thanks. I thanked the powers that got me there in one piece and thought..." What will I change for next year?" Probably not a Dam thing. I was Happy Camper.