But we were just really getting to know each other. The freshness of dating someone with abs and an extreme appetite for adventure made me feel inspired. So I stretched the truth into a smile.

“Totally. I walk like eleven miles every time I’m in New York.”

I swear I said that to this man who could casually run 50 miles at any point.

To be clear, I carried NOTHING. I did not even carry my own cell phone. Zach, on the other hand, looked like a pack mule, donning what I assume was a pretty heavy backpack filled with lunch, snacks, water, and other supplies, such as the headlamps we would eventually need.

We began on Rainbow Falls Trail, and it was STUNNING. Gorgeous tree cover and easy-to-walk trails. We weren’t even a mile in when we encountered a black bear.

Zach pulled out his cell phone and started recording a video.

“Is this safe? Should we run?” I asked in a frantic whisper.

“No, no, we are good,” he whispered back as the black bear locked eyes with us and started to sprint toward us.

I almost wet my pants.

But alas, we kept moving and were unscathed by the “baby” 300-pound black bear.

That first trip, more than a year ago now, was way more than challenging. It was the hardest, longest physical challenge I had ever willingly endured. Luckily for me, I was with a pro.

The hike that day took me almost nine hours. It included the black bear incident, getting to the top and feeling like a champ, only to realize the moment we turned around to leave that I thought my knees might blow off my body.

On the way down, I was dangerously quiet, even with Zach trying to keep the conversation going to distract me from the sheer pain and awareness I had of just how out of shape I was.

It started to rain just as the sun was setting, and Zach handed me a headlamp and a small Ziploc bag of blueberries.

His eyes were kind and curious. “You good?”

No. I am absolutely not good.

In my mind, I was contemplating an escape plan. Could I fake an injury? Is it possible I could call for a helicopter to just come lift me off of here?

“I’m good. My knees feel like they might blow off my body, but I’m good.”

After my snack and placing the headlamp firmly on my forehead, I started back down the trail. Knowing there were hours still ahead, I started to sing my first song, one I made up.

“I chose this. I love hard things. I CHOSE THIS.”

I heard Zach snicker behind me.

When silence gave way to the pain my body was in, I started humming.

“Is that Three Blind Mice?” Zach asked.

“Yep,” I said and kept humming.

I sang, not hummed, EVERY SONG I KNEW on my way off that damn mountain that night. And when I reached the parking lot, I lay on the ground as though I was about to make snow angels on the concrete.

Zach stood over me, his headlamp shining in my face.

“Hey, I’m so incredibly proud of you. You just did something really hard.”

“Do not be proud of me, Z. If at any point you would’ve told me there was a service we could hire to come rescue me in a helicopter and I had the money, I would’ve paid almost anything.”

He laughed, and I groaned.

Since that night, though, hiking has been a big part of my life. Sure, mostly because I fell in love with a guy who loves it, but also because I promised myself I would never feel that way again. Like I could barely make it.

So over the last year, I’ve trained. Which is why I felt excited to go back to the Smokies and try LeConte again for Zach’s birthday.

This time, I knew what I was getting myself into. Well, mostly.

We hiked Chimney Tops one day and Mount LeConte via Alum Cave Trail the next. Nineteen miles and roughly 6,000 feet of climbing in two days. I had apparently become a woman who voluntarily planned vacations around physical exhaustion. Personal growth is weird.

But this time, the mountains were showing off.

It was October, and the leaves were beginning to change. The drive to the trailheads alone was worth getting out of bed for. The roads disappeared beneath canopies of red, orange, and gold. The air was crisp, the streams were rushing, and I kept stopping to take pictures of things that no camera could possibly do justice.

I was in absolute awe. And perhaps even more astonished that all of this was just a few hours from home. How had I lived this long without knowing this version of Gatlinburg existed?

And how had I become someone who could climb these mountains without fantasizing about being airlifted off them?

A year ago, Zach and I were still getting to know each other. I was trying to impress him with my New York City walking credentials, and he was carrying enough supplies to keep us alive for a week.

This time, we had found our rhythm. There was comfortable silence, laughter, teamwork, and the quiet confidence that comes from knowing the person beside you. I no longer needed to convince him I could keep up, and he no longer needed to distract me from the fact that my knees were plotting my murder.

We even watched a couple get engaged near the summit. I took approximately four thousand pictures. It was the kind of day you wish you could bottle up and keep.

And then, about two miles from finishing our descent, we encountered two terrified parents.

They had become separated from their teenage son, who had special needs. They were exhausted, struggling with the terrain, and desperate to find him.

We realized we’d passed him farther up the mountain.

I looked at Zach. Of all the people these parents could have encountered on that mountain, they had somehow found a man who could run back up it faster than most people could walk down.

Before he left, we recorded a video of the boy’s mother reassuring her son that Zach was there to help and that his parents were waiting for him.

And off he went. Back UP the mountain. Voluntarily. Again.

I stayed with the parents. The mother had no cell service and had been desperately trying to reach her own mom to ask for prayer. So we prayed together. We talked about their family, their church, their lives. We talked about anything that might make the waiting a little less terrifying.

I assured her that Zach wasn’t just some mountain-running lunatic. He was also a therapist. Her son was in very good hands.

And he was.

Zach found him and brought him safely back to his parents.

I thought a lot about that moment afterward. A year earlier, I was the person who needed rescuing from that mountain. This time, I was capable of helping someone else.

And Zach and I, without much discussion, had simply known what to do. There is something pretty wonderful about discovering that kind of partnership with someone you love.

But there’s something else I keep thinking about.

For years, I thought I knew what Gatlinburg had to offer. Pancakes, tourist attractions, matching family T-shirts, and maybe a little putt-putt golf. And listen, I am not above any of those things. I love a good pancake.

But just beyond all of that is this extraordinary natural playground. Mountains that will humble you, views that will stop you in your tracks, and trails where you can spend hours with someone you love without a television, a restaurant reservation, or a single notification competing for your attention.

You can take your kids. You can take your spouse. You can take someone you’re just beginning to fall in love with. You can challenge yourself, laugh at yourself, and discover that you’re capable of a little more than you thought.

And you don’t have to climb fifteen miles to experience it. In fact, I might recommend starting with something considerably shorter. Trust me on this.

I think about how many years I overlooked this place because I thought I already knew what was there. How many adventures we miss simply because we never think to look for them.

So don’t be like me. Get off the main drag. Find a trail. Look up. Go see what all those trees and mountains have been hiding from you.

And if you happen to fall in love with someone who thinks running up a mountain is a perfectly reasonable way to spend a Saturday, buy yourself some good hiking shoes.

You’re going to need them.

Five Trails Worth Getting Off the Main Drag For

Chimney Tops Trail

For people who enjoy questioning their life choices

3.5 miles round trip | Strenuous

This trail has what feels like approximately 2,000 actual stairs. I didn’t count, but my thighs did. It’s steep, relentless, and rewards you with absolutely spectacular mountain views. The final rock summit is closed following the 2016 wildfires, so respect the closure and enjoy the incredible views from the designated overlook. This one is for experienced hikers or people who are very committed to earning their dinner.

Alum Cave Trail to Mount LeConte

My personal favorite

4.6 miles round trip to Alum Cave Bluffs | Approximately 10–11 miles to Mount LeConte | Moderate to strenuous, depending on your turnaround point

If you only choose one, this is my vote. Streams, bridges, towering rock formations, gorgeous tree cover, and views that make you forget how much climbing you’ve done. The beautiful thing about this trail is that you can make it your own. Turn around at Arch Rock for a 2.8-mile adventure, continue to Alum Cave Bluffs, or commit to the full summit if you’re prepared for a six-to-eight-hour (or longer) day. Pack snacks. Lots of snacks.

Andrews Bald

For the views without an all-day commitment

3.6 miles round trip | Moderate

This might be the one you’re looking for if you want an incredible mountain view without spending your entire day climbing. Starting near the Kuwohi parking area, you’ll hike through beautiful high-elevation forest before arriving at an open grassy bald with sweeping mountain views. It’s a wonderful spot to sit, take pictures, and remember that sometimes the best part of a hike is stopping. Just remember, you do have to climb back uphill to your car.

Rainbow Falls Trail

For waterfall lovers

5.6 miles round trip | Moderate to strenuous

This is the trail where my original hiking adventure began, although we kept going all the way to Mount LeConte. You don’t have to make that particular mistake. Instead, hike to the beautiful 80-foot Rainbow Falls, where sunlight sometimes catches the mist and creates an actual rainbow. It’s a gorgeous destination, but don’t let the word “waterfall” fool you into thinking it’s a quick stroll. Allow several hours and bring proper shoes.

Gatlinburg Trail

For families, beginners, and people who just want to enjoy being outside

3.8 miles round trip | Easy

Not every adventure needs to involve a summit, a headlamp, or a personal reckoning. This relatively flat trail follows the Little Pigeon River, with beautiful wooded scenery and historic homesite remnants along the way. Walk as much or as little as you want. Bring the kids, bring your dog, or bring someone you love and enjoy a conversation without competing with a television. Sometimes that’s adventure enough.

One last piece of advice from Hiking Barbie:

Check trail conditions before you go, start early, carry water, and wear actual hiking shoes. And please, for the love of your knees, don’t confuse eleven miles of shopping in Manhattan with eleven miles in the Smoky Mountains.