By Jared Stangl
This last weekend, Liz and I had the good fortune being able to spend a couple nights in western North Carolina with her grandma. Secretly, or maybe not so secretly, I was hoping to get there early enough go hop over to the Smoky Mountains and get in a trail run. The park has over 800 miles of trail, most of which are only accessible via other trails. I stopped by one of the visitor's center to ask for suggestions and picked out the Mingus Creek Trail. 6 miles out ascending 2800 feet, then back down. I was excited, very excited, and welcomed the challenge.
As I was changing in the car, it started thundering, then raining. Not hard, but not lightly either. Discouraged? A little, but I talked myself into loving the idea. Then I couldn't find my socks. I had two pair of running shoes, but no socks. I tore the car apart three times looking, but nothing. Now I was disappointed. It was a heartbreaking decision, but I called it off. My unsupported, solitary mountain ascent after the 7 hour drive wouldn't happen.
Leaving America's most visited national park not seeing anything more than a parking lot and a trail sign, I thought to swing by the visitor's center again looking for a miracle. There, in different spots of the parking lot, were two socks with a runner's silhouette on them, wet with rain and probably ran over by cars. I threw on my Tevas. Time to hit the trail!
In some respects, this was the hardest trail run I've done. Constant climbing. If my calculations are correct, it's an average 10% grade. Creek crossing that soaked my feet. Rocks that threatened to twist my ankle. Did I mention the constant climbing?
In other respects, this was the easiest trail run I've done. No time pressures. The rain to keep me cool. No expectations. Just me, my legs, and the mountain. 6 miles to the top, which I probably walked about half a mile of.
The Smokies are known for their wildlife and plantlife diversity. I wouldn't have known it though because on this trail there only seemed to be one broadleaf tree with with fist-sized white flowers on them all the way up. At times, they would canopy the trail like I was running through a flower tunnel and as I got closer to the top, the rain lightened and as I climbed into the clouds the fog thickened.
Once I got to the top feeling more refreshed and excited than tired, I saw a sign to a campsite a half mile down the ridge-line. This would add a mile, putting the total at 13 (which, for runners, is a nice round number), and at least 200 feet of climbing putting my ascent over 3000 feet. Now, 7 miles into it it, I had 6 miles of downhill that would be as fast as I would let it. I took off at a pace just short of dangerous. I re-entered the clouds that I had climbed above and the through the tunnel of flowering trees and into the thick misty fog. At mile 9 or so, I stopped and smelled the flowers I was running through, and the rush of fatigue, adrenaline, and sweet smells was overwhelming and I felt lightheaded for just a moment. Then took off again down the mountain.
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