Off the Sidelines

30 miles on the Appalachian Trail, a healing knee, and a team named for a kid I've watched grow up

Yesterday morning our alarms went off at 2 a.m., and a half hour later we headed down to the ballroom of the Crowne Plaza Resort in Asheville with our backpacks and two “comfort packs” stuffed into large plastic garbage bags.

Only six hours earlier, we had gathered in this same room for dinner, a briefing on the next day’s gameplan, and a mission moment to remind us all why we were here. A fellow hiker and dad of an 11-year-old boy with Cystic Fibrosis told the story of his son’s diagnosis, but more importantly his son’s life... his current involvement in theatre and his aspirations of making video games. We even got a video sendoff from the kid back in Ohio. Let me tell you, this kid definitely belongs in show business!

We had all been training for this weekend for months. I had simultaneously been doing PT ever since surgery to repair a meniscus tear in my left knee back in October. Once my physical therapist cleared me, I started running again, and by my count have logged over 105 miles of training hikes since January.

But this weekend, I was getting ready to do something I’d never done before. Hike approximately 30 miles on the Appalachian Trail in one day. One of the most rugged and technical trails in the mountains of North Carolina.

Just before dinner on Friday night, I stopped to chat with one of the coaches I’d hiked with a few times during training and had talked with about my recovery from knee surgery. He asked how I was feeling about the next day, then in a calm, reassuring voice simply said, “You’re ready.” Those two words kept me from being a complete ball of nerves that evening.

Things were actually looking up for this spring’s Xtreme Hike, organized by the North Carolina Chapter of the Cystic Fibrosis Foundation. When I packed earlier in the week, the weather forecast looked terrible: cold, rainy, and windy most of the day with a chance of thunderstorms. By the time we sat down for a buffet dinner with half a dozen kinds of pasta, the forecasters were only calling for a slight chance of drizzle. I kept everything packed as I had it, just in case. Two things had given me pause about signing up for this hike in the first place: the fundraising and the weather. The fundraising had ended up working out great, and now it looked like the weather was going to cooperate as well.

We dropped off our comfort packs with some of the dozens of organizers and volunteers supporting this hike. We took a big group picture in the parking lot and boarded passenger vans for the hour-and-15-minute ride to the trailhead.

My team, Reece’s Monkeys, was the fifth group of six to set out on the trail. The team is named after Reece, the now teenage son of our friends April and Brent. Reece has CF, and his mom April organized the team. Our son Zach and Reece have been close friends since they played soccer together as little kids. There was a little bit of waiting in the dark before it was time for one final picture behind the start banner. Then we set out single file into the woods, with only our headlamps to light the way.

The first 6 miles of the trail were relatively easy and pleasant. It was a brief climb to get up to the top of Max Patch, which I hear has spectacular views, but in the dark I couldn’t see anything but lights way off in the distance. The temperature was in the low 40s, and it was pretty windy. We descended back into the forest, hiking along a creek and crossing over it multiple times. There was still quite a bit of cloud cover, so we really didn’t get much of a sunrise other than the gradual lightening of the sky. Just before it started to get light, the birds in the trees suddenly erupted into song. There had to have been thousands of them up there, and it was unlike anything I’ve ever heard! Gradually the sky got lighter, we were able to turn off the headlamps, and before long we made it into Aid Station 1 at approximately 6.2 miles in.

The volunteers there were making cinnamon rolls on a griddle and had various other snacks and candy available. I had ended up as one of the last hikers to come into that aid station, and I really didn’t want to be at the tail end of the hike all day long. I waited about two minutes for a hot cinnamon roll to come off the griddle, ate it, grabbed my pack, and hit the trail again without sticking around too long.

Now the trail started to show off its real personality. We had a decent uphill climb out of Aid Station 1, and I actually passed a few people on the way up. Then for the first large downhill stretch, I decided it would be easier on my knees if I jogged it. That turned out to be a big mistake. While the jog itself was fine, when I got to the bottom and had to start heading up again, I had completely zapped all of my energy. It took everything in me to take each step up that hill, digging my poles into the ground and moving at an excruciating pace. I went from a 16-minute mile to a 28-minute mile just like that, and everyone I had passed earlier passed me, and then some.

While I’d hiked the first six miles with a group, this stretch I had been mostly by myself. I was starting to wonder if I was going to be alone for the entire hike, which didn’t seem like much fun. I just wasn’t pacing along with anyone else. They would pass me on the uphills, and I would catch up and pass them on the downhills, never quite syncing with anyone the way I had on the training hikes. At this point I was also seriously questioning whether or not I was going to be able to complete this hike.

After one particularly long stretch by myself, I looked behind me and Stacy, Brent’s sister and one of Reece’s aunts on the team, was coming up. We both lamented the long slog uphill we’d just done, and then ended up hiking the rest of the day together, keeping each other company. Taking the uphills slow, regaining a solid pace on the flats and downhills.

Aid Station 2 at about 14 miles in was a welcome break. In my comfort pack I had a fresh pair of socks and my other pair of trail runners... ones with a little more cushion than the ones I’d chosen for the first half. I’d been carrying a massage gun in my pack all day, and the extra weight finally paid off as I worked on my legs sitting barefoot in a camp chair. The volunteers there were making grilled cheese sandwiches. Plain white bread, slathered in mayonnaise, filled with what was certainly not real cheese, then cooked on a griddle. The cheese was literally dripping out into the aluminum foil wrapper as I ate it, and after that much time on the trail, it was absolutely delicious!

But we still had the second half of the hike. I laced up my second pair of trail runners, refilled my water bladder, and Stacy and I set off. There were a lot of debates afterward about how rough this stretch of the trail was, but I honestly don’t remember it being that bad. Sure, there were uphills, and sure, Stacy and I took them slower than we did on the rest, but it seemed manageable. It was during this stretch that the sun actually started to come out, and we could see a gorgeous blue sky up through the trees. As we got closer to the town of Hot Springs, we could hear live music from a festival being held down in the valley, getting louder as we approached the town.

Aid Station 3 was right where the trail hits the town of Hot Springs. As I approached it, some AT thru-hikers sitting on their packs greeted me. As the cheering and cowbells started up around the corner at Aid 3, they asked, “Is that cheering for you?” I embarrassedly admitted that it probably was, and they started clapping and cheering too!

At Aid 3 the volunteers had more grilled cheese, but also hot homemade chicken tortilla soup. It was absolutely amazing and hit the spot. But with 8 more miles to go, we didn’t hang around too long. At this point I was feeling better about finishing... the cutoff time for leaving Aid 3 was 3:30, and it was only 1 p.m.

We walked through downtown Hot Springs and then back onto the trail. It started off easy enough, almost like a greenway along the river. Then a left-hand turn... and straight up. Like we did 1,000 feet in less than 2 miles!

Each time we reached a turn in the trail, we thought for sure we’d be done gaining elevation. Nope. More uphill. There were a lot of f-bombs during that stretch! It was absolutely grueling, especially after already putting in 21 miles that day and being up for 12 hours.

We did a lot more climbing until the last mile or so. Then finally, on what seemed like an easy stretch after what we’d been through, we heard music playing in the distance, and the trail suddenly popped out onto a road. Across the bridge, hikers and volunteers were cheering and ringing cowbells.

And just like that, we were done. Sitting in camp chairs, feet in sandals instead of hiking boots, with a beer and a slice of pizza. No more miles. No more inclines.

Looking back at the day in the Fitness app on my iPhone, there were a bunch of “awards”... longest hiking workout, new exercise record, hiking elevation gain record, new move record (3,747 calories). In an instant I went from “I’m not sure I’m going to finish, and I’m never going to do this again” to “what can I do better next year?”

Two things for sure. Don’t try to run, and consume more food. When I think back at how little food I ate and how many calories I burned, it’s no wonder I struggled. Not that the hike would have been easy... they call it “Xtreme” for a reason. But definitely room for improvement.

It’s a grueling day, regardless. But the sense of accomplishment is exhilarating. And one thing is clear. The breathless inclines, sore feet, and tight muscles I felt for a day are nothing compared to what people with CF live with every day. The hours of airway clearance and nebulizer treatments. The pancreatic enzymes with every meal and snack. The lung infections that don’t always respond to antibiotics. The “tune-up” hospital stays that can stretch into weeks at a time. That’s their normal. This is why we hike... sure, because we wanted a challenge, but more importantly to help find a cure for a disease that turns so many lives upside down.

Sitting at the breakfast celebration this morning in the ballroom of the Crowne Plaza in Asheville, I thought about the breakfast I attended as a family member the year before, after my wife and son had finished their second hike. In my last post I wrote about how that inspired me to join this incredible community. And now, having stepped off the sidelines, it’s amazing to be a part of this special family, all united for a worthy, and achievable, cause.

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I want to extend a heartfelt thank you to my amazing supporters who made all of this possible with their generous donations to the Cystic Fibrosis Foundation.

My parents Bill & Suzy, my sisters Beth Assis and Emily Costa, my two best friends Andrew Schulz and Josh Strecker, friends I haven’t seen in years like Matt Christina, Steve Sutton, Matt Starnes, and Rob Floyd, my cousin Van Weston, family friends Carrie & Terry Kennedy, John & Lisa Kawyn, Aaron Leaver & Krissy Fox, leaders at my employer Veylan: Anthony Iacovone, Quique Nagle, and Lynn Browne, current and former colleagues Jeff Wheeler, Kus W, Dave Imrem, Ashley Saville, Jenn Jackson, Nolen Mabie, Tom Jackson, Tim Pollock, Carol Poteat, Tim O’Connell, Kerin Rue, Gale Bonnell, and Neal Sharpe. I was also genuinely moved by folks I didn’t necessarily expect to hear from, who saw my LinkedIn posts and graciously clicked to make a donation. My dad’s former colleague Chuck Millsaps, and business contacts like Susy Schwede, Lena Rodriguez, and Andy Shepard. And the handful of others who wished to remain anonymous.

You all donated to a great cause, but your donation also told me you were rooting for me as I took on this challenge, and I am forever grateful and deeply touched.

This spring’s hike had a smaller number of participants than years past, but we still managed to raise $233,416 (as of this morning) in the fight to cure Cystic Fibrosis. We’re still trying to reach our $370,000 goal. It’s not too late to help us close the gap.

• My page: https://fundraise.cff.org/springhike2026/jonathan

• Nicole’s page: https://fundraise.cff.org/springhike2026/Nicole

• Zach’s page: https://fundraise.cff.org/springhike2026/Zach