To get a first-hand account of what it is like out on the trail, Running Insight turned to frequent contributor and Running Event speaker Tom Griffen, who is taking on another portion of the Appalachian Trail this summer. Griffen, who once walked across the entire United States, provides his insight into what hikers and trail runners need to tackle the AT. 

I am an Appalachian Trail section thru-hiker. That means that I am walking the trail’s 2197.4 miles between Georgia and Maine in chunks, rather than knock it all out in one fell swoop. 

I’ve got a buddy who, for the past 25 years, has been section hiking the AT for a week or two at a time. This summer he plans to wrap up his lengthy endeavor with a summit of Mt. Katahdin, the trail’s northern terminus. When I asked him what he’ll do when he’s finished, he said, “Oh, I dunno. Probably just start it over.”

This trail is like that. It’s magnetic. The closer you get to it, the more it occupies your mind, your time and, ultimately, every ounce of your very being. And when you finally do get on it, no matter your physical or mental readiness for it, proper assimilation can take a few days, if not longer. 

And it’s in that crucial span of time when you’re most likely to call things into question. “Why the heck am I out here?” you’ll ask yourself as rain pummels your tent. Your gut will wrench as you yearn for your warm and cozy bed, your clean and dry clothes and the relaxed company of familiar loved ones. You’ll march the trail’s incessant ups and downs while obsessively asking yourself, aloud perhaps, “Why the heck would anyone willingly choose to undergo such utter discomfort?” 

But take heed — this is all normal. A crucial element of the trail experience is to be challenged at the core. To find yourself up against your personal edge as you ponder the depths of who you truly are. And you do this for good reason. Because in the midst this personal tumult, an owl will hoot in the distance. It’s cadence will offer a sonic meditation that will distract your thoughts and finally lull you back to the present. You’ll feel the sun on your face. Smell the sweetness of wet leaves. Hear the musical birdsong. You’ll become one with the trail. The ensuing peace that overwhelms you may even make you cry.

Fifth Time’s A Charm

As I type this I am in the throes of my fifth Appalachian Trail section hike. I took my first steps on Georgia’s Springer Mountain in 2022 and have been out here yearly since. As of today I am in northwestern New Jersey, 1308 miles north of where I started and with seven states in my rearview. It feels good to be beyond the half way point, even if common belief is that the hardest parts are yet to come. Technically this may be true, but so far every single mile of the AT has been an understated traverse. Its challenges often take me by surprise.

I began this current section where my last one left off — in Harper’s Ferry, WV, the unofficial beginning of the trail’s second half. I crossed the Potomac River and made quick work of Maryland, all the while wondering if the moniker of upcoming “Rocksylvania” will live up to its lore. Took me a few hours to get dirty, four days to get my head right and 11 days before I wasn’t constantly on the verge of injury. Now I regularly knock out 12 miles-before-noon and commonly bypass town stops – including showers and belly-filling meals – to stay on the trail. I find a particular joy in staying connected to the path. In being feral.

But I am who I am — which means that while I’m out here pushing hefty miles and reveling in the sudden Appalachian thunderstorms, I’m also taking time to meet fellow hikers along the way. Frankly, without these social interactions any adventure of this sort is mostly just a grind. There’s value in solitude, but everything is more fun, more rewarding, when it’s shared with someone else.

These human exchanges, besides being uplifting, generally find us hikers swapping anecdotes about gear, trail conditions and origins of our trail names. My name, for this stretch, anyhow, has been Amble. It’s the derivative of a Latin phrase I have tattooed front and center on my thigh — solvitur ambulando. Which translates to: “All is solved by walking.”

Trail Name: Donkey

After about three hours into a day that would prove to be unseasonably warm, I came across a hiker sitting on a downed tree. He introduced himself as Donkey, a traditional thru-hiker, and I noticed that the character on his hat reflected his name. Home for him was about as far north in New York as one can go. The closest city, he said, was Montreal.

“I’m not in any hurry,” Donkey said. “Some days I wanna walk far, other days I just want to sit here and stare at trees.” We paused our conversation as a pileated woodpecker drummed in the distance. The echoing was mirrored by another hammering from a different direction.

“How you like your shoes?” I asked. At my question, Donkey brushed a leaf off his leg. “They are Topo — I like them.” Donkey told me he learned about them while watching the YouTube channel, Darwin onthetrail. “Darwin says that Topo is the Altra killer — they last longer.” Donkey’s pair have been going strong for more than 700 miles. “The only thing I don’t like is their proprietary gaiters.”

Donkey brought up the burnt area we passed through the previous day. “I thought the smell was a campfire until I saw the charred wood all around,” he said. “It’s interesting that even when the fire is extinguished it can work through the roots and pop up somewhere else.” I spent the next dozen miles pondering this phenomenon. How fire, in this case, can resemble a seed. How it might grow, unseen, until it’s good and ready to bloom.

Trail Name: Mouseketeer

After a day of seemingly endless ridiculous ascents and descents, my legs were wobbly and my hydration stores were empty. I stopped at  Furnace Creek to filter water with my Sawyer Squeeze, after which I crossed paths with a solo southbound hiker, Mouseketeer, and her pack-wearing dog, Vento. “aka, Tick Magnet,” she said. “He loves disappearing into the brambles.”

Mouseketeer is a New York City native and currently lives in Italy. Vento, which means “wind” in Italian, aptly describes her canine companion’s running ability. “My husband says he runs like the wind.” Mouseketeer also likes to run — told me she put in six training miles per day in advance of this hike to ensure she was ready for the trail before she arrived.

Mouseketeer became inspired to do a long walk after reading the book “Wild” by Cheryl Strayed. While researching trail options she happened upon the AT. “I was in my fifties before I even realized it existed!” she said. “Now I want to tell everyone about it!”

I hadn’t previously met many sobo hikers and told her as much. She said she prefers walking south since most others are going north. “I get to meet the most people, which is great because I am a social person.” 

Mouseketeer’s fresh pair of Altra Olympuses had barely a hint of dirt on them. She’d just picked them up at Ready, Set, Run, a specialty run shop a few days north in Stroudsburg. “I’ve had these shoes about four days and I really like them,” she said. “Tricia, the owner there, really knows her stuff.” Mouseketeer lifted her foot to show me the sole of one. “Sheesh, they already have some wear and tear. These Pennsylvania rocks are getting to them.”

Trail Names: Ammo and Roadkill

After two marathon days over wet and precarious moraines and muddy single track. After a 48-hour stretch of dodging a trail riddled with neon orange eastern newts, fresh bear scat and a nonplussed porcupine, I landed in a town for a much-needed shower, laundry and some serious calorie replacement. I ate two full dinners before collapsing on a hotel mattress that enveloped me like a taco.

The next morning I hit a local cafe before rejoining he trail. Walked in and saw two thru-hikers I’d been leapfrogging for the past 10 days or so — Ammo and Roadkill.

Ammo is fresh out of the Navy and passing time walking until August when he’ll begin college, and civilian life, in Knoxville. Roadkill is from Germany and currently dealing with a sidelining hip injury that’s threatening to thwart his plans to do two of America’s biggest trails this year — the AT and the PCT (Pacific Crest Trail). Like me, they also arrived in town last night, albeit via shuttle, after Roadkill’s body stopped properly cooperating. This morning they were awaiting a return call from a local chiropractor they hoped could squeeze them into his schedule and do some healing magic.

Together we three drank espresso drinks and ate the contents of the cafe’s box of baked goods. Roadkill and I reminisced about the terrific climbs and weather anomalies on the Colorado Trail. “I had no idea that a blizzard could include thunder and lightning,” I said. 

Ammo shared a story about the early days of his AT adventure. Back in February in Georgia, the nightly temperatures were dipping below the rating of his sleeping bag. “I read something about sleeping with a Nalgene bottle filled with boiling water, so I gave it a shot,” he said. “But the bottle leaked, and in the middle of the night I woke up with frozen claws digging into my back.”

Roadkill swears by his ASICS Trabuco Max 4s — he’s on his second pair for this hike and got more than 800 miles from the first pair. “ASICS are way more popular in Europe,” he said. “I think I should write to them to tell them how much I love this model — maybe they’ll sponsor a hiker or something.”

Ammo sports the Altra Olympus 6 Hike Mid GTX. He likes them fine, but he’s not pleased with their durability. He’d managed to squeeze a lot of miles from them, but said they started showing obvious wear and tear after a few days on the trail. “You’ve been complaining about them for a long time, now,” Roadkill reminded. 

Before I left, I suggested they both consider adding an insole to whatever shoes they end up wearing. “Your foot wants shape under foot,” I said. “And no shoe can really do that by itself.”

Trail Names: Flower Power and Floppy

At the Mohican Lodge in New Jersey I sat with a handful of other hikers who also opted to take refuge from the rain. We sipped warm drinks, indulged in a home cooked meal and commiserated about our experiences thus far.

Floppy and Flower Power, a couple from Greenville, South Carolina, planned to complete their northbound thru hike section this year. “A big day for us is 15 miles,” they said. I asked if they knew of the Fleet Feet in their hometown. “Oh yeah!” Floppy said. “Sheila sold me my last few pairs of Altra Lone Peaks!” Flower Power chimed in. “But now we both wear Topos — they are more durable,” she said. Floppy wears the Topo Traverse and Flower Power wears the Terraventure 4. They are both astounded by the fit and feel.

Like Donkey, Floppy also doesn’t much care for the proprietary gaiter. “I like to wear Dirty Girl Gaiters — so I monkeyed with the back of the shoe and fixed it so I can keep using them,” he said. “I don’t want to give up my flashy orange flame fashion statement!”

Floppy and Flower Power said that they’ve been taking note of the music that’s been randomly popping into their heads during the hike. “There’s this riff by the Spice Girls that goes on endless loop in my head,” Flower Power said, cringing. I told them that on every long climb, the Beatles’, “I am the Walrus,” pops into my consciousness. 

With that, Floppy began singing the song’s chorus and was quickly accompanied by all the hikers in the room. “Goo-goo g’joob!” The trail is to blame for joyful moments like this.

The Importance of Gear 

Gear is crucial to any big adventure. I would argue that good gear matters, but plenty of folks out here on the trail have a different perspective. Some hikers rock sandals, others wear Crocs, while others still don Army jump boots and other types of footwear that I wouldn’t dare wear back home, let alone on some of the most technical trails in the U.S. I’ve even seen barefoot folks out here, but they are less common. 

The bottom line for hikers is the same as it is for runners — quality gear starts with a solid foundation of knowledge. A thing is only deemed “good” if we understand and believe that which it is meant to do. 

Every day I am out here I chat with folks about gear. This is cool. But such tech-talk is never as fulfilling as getting to know someone’s story. The personal connection with others will always be more important than which shoes or insoles or socks or anti-chafe products or whatever are most popular. 

So whenever I get into Amble-mode, I ready my mind for these intimate human exchanges. But make no mistake, I am also always ready to talk footwear and feet and injury prevention and anatomy and biomechanics, too. Because, and very much like you, it’s simply what I do.