Far From Normal Along The AT

Guest Contributor: John Leskowat
​Read Time: 6 mins

As the headlights cut through the early morning darkness, I sped north towards the Virginia state line. I had a general idea where I was headed but I knew I really wouldn’t find out until I got there. All I knew was that I was in for an adventure along the famed 2190 mile long Appalachian National Scenic Trail.

I hadn’t stepped foot on the Appalachian Trail since I was a kid. We stopped on a road trip to get pictures at the North Carolina/Tennessee border. We took the chance to stretch our car cramped legs and hike some of the AT just to say we did. Memories loom large in my youthful days, so in my blissful mind we climbed cloud reaching mountains for miles upon miles. In reality, it was likely only half a mile. A core memory from my adolescence indeed.

But this particular morning, aside from knowing I would be back on the trail, I had no plan, route, or true sense of what I was getting into. In fact, I didn’t even know how long this adventure would be. Three hours? Fine. 12 hours? Bring it on. I had a pack full of snacks and a thirst for adventure.

The one thing I did know is that I had a chance to witness trail running history first hand. John Kelly was running the Appalachian Trail and attempting to complete it in the Fastest Known Time (FKT) of 40 days, 17 hours and 5 minutes by the "Candy Mama" herself Tara Dower in 2024. I was in route to join his support crew.

I’ve looked up to John Kelly for some time now. His legendary accomplishment on the most demanding trails is nearly unmatched. A three-time finisher of the insanely grueling, and now world famous, Barkley Marathons, he has set himself apart as someone who knows how to master the elements, push through pain, and achieve unparalleled feats of human endurance. And yet, there’s so much about him that is relatable. He’s a normal guy living in western North Carolina with a couple kids. He’s a nerd that analyzes his adventure plans down to the last detail. He’s about my same age working in a similar field.
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And now he’s out to break the record. And I get to be a small part of it with a front row seat.

It’s Trail Day #9 for John, and I’m joining the crew for the second of three running shifts on this day. Another runner and I met up at a sleepy intersection of sorts, where the AT crosses Davis Valley Road in, ironically named, Rural Retreat, VA. Road support was driving from crossing to crossing, setting up mobile aid at various points along the way each day. Once we got our gear situated, we snapped a few pictures and prepared to go at the first sight of John! Soon enough he and his 2 support runners popped out of the woods.

“I need to be in the shade,” were the first words out of his mouth. The clear blue sky and full sun had warmed the day, and somehow, we’d managed to set up aid in direct sunlight! A quick reactionary reconfiguration ensued. With the compounding effect of spending any extra time on aid stops, every attempt was made to ensure John didn’t have to step off trail any further than necessary.
Breakfast burrito. Shoe change. Quad massage. Sonic shake. Sunscreen. Quick teeth brushing … Everything happened quickly as his crew took care of everything he needed, like a well-oiled machine.

New runner introductions, a quick good-bye to his last runners and we’re off! Off with a purpose. 

John is moving well. But this is no splashy race. He’s being strategic for the long distance: easy jogging the runnable downhills; steadily hiking the uphills. He’s no stranger to the sustained grueling effort here. We’re not setting the pace, just providing support. We’re carrying everything he’ll need along the way so that all his effort can go into moving forward.

On multi-day efforts like this, the body starts to adapt to new levels of sustained effort. And by adapting, I mean hurting. It was never going to be a walk in the park. But this day was going to be up there in terms of effort needed to push through, keep moving, and cover the miles on one of the warmest days yet.

As the temperature climbed into the mid-80s we welcomed each stretch of tree canopy and the shade it brought. At one point, my fellow support runner started to feel the effects of the heat himself and began to fall back. I ran back to him and quickly transferred all the gear he was carrying to my pack before running to catch up with John. It was all me now.

“Don’t screw this up! You’re not going to be the reason John Kelly doesn’t make it today!” I told myself.  “No pressure,” I confidently replied to myself.

As the reality of what I needed to manage became clear, I was glad we weren’t moving any faster!
Hand off a water bottle. Mix some Tailwind. Make sure John eats. Identify upcoming water crossings. Run ahead and fill up filter bottles. Make sure we’re staying on course.
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Oh, and make sure I’m keeping up with my own hydration & nutrition!

Miles tick by. There’s not much to say as John pushes through the pain and stays laser focused on one thing and one thing only … moving forward. We keep our conversations brief as we share the trail. At one point, we begin to chat about the driving force for this effort. He is using his FKT attempt to highlight the stories of the communities along the AT that are still experiencing the effects of Hurricane Helene, and to fundraise for their continued recovery. “If it weren’t for that goal, I’d be done,” he says to me.

Eventually, I became aware of someone running up behind us. It was my fellow support runner! He took some time to cool down and let his body catch up. Now he’s back in the game and ready to go! Thank goodness! I hadn’t fully realized how much I was freaking out trying to make sure I didn’t screw up! The band is back together.

More sun. More power hiking up hills. A herd of cows on the trail. A break to stretch out John’s quads. A selfie at the 1/4-way point. Trail magic.

The miles flew by. And before I knew it, we were coming into the next road crossing and aid stop. My shift was over. Time for two new support runners to take over.

We hand over all the gear and pass off information on how he’s doing. We help as needed with another round of food, drink, shoes, sunscreen, etc. The well-oiled machine hums right along, extraordinary in its smooth execution.

As John disappears into the woods with his new support runners, my job is done. Surreal. Impactful.
Those miles gave me a glimpse into the real, human process underway; but at the same time also gave me a chance to witness an extraordinary feat of human endurance that transcends reality. If it weren’t for the pictures, I’d be tempted to think it was a dream.

But then ....

As I write this, news came through that John Kelly is off the trail near the New Hampshire/Maine border. He pushed through all sorts of injury and pain during his 34 days of running along the spine of the Appalachian Mountain range. But the threat of real permanent damage made the last 300+ miles impossible. Just like that, his attempt at the FKT was officially over.
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Which begs the question, if he didn’t finish the AT in record time, does it mean that there isn’t anything to celebrate? Does it mean that the 1800 miles he did cover in record time don’t count? Does it mean that the effort wasn’t a monumental demonstration of what humans can achieve?
And what about the hundreds of others like me that joined him in the effort or donated to the $65,000+ raised for communities ravaged by Hurricane Helene ? Does it mean that we weren’t part of something legendary?

The answer is a resounding and unequivocal “NO!”.

In the hours, days, and weeks following his announcement, John’s support crew rallied around him sharing stories of inspiration & adventure. No one felt anything less than pride and love for John and the rest of the crew. Whether or not there was a new record, we all got to bear witness to greatness. We all got to join together for the good of the community. And yes, we all got to be part of history.

I may not have known where I was headed on my way to Virginia. But the truth is, I didn’t even know what the adventure would be once I headed home. The end of this story was never dependent on John finishing the AT in record time. It was always about the community that rallied around him. And the community that he rallied together to stand in support of each other.

It’s not easy being in the presence of greatness. It’s not easy to describe such an extraordinary experience. But it occurs to me that perhaps the only normal element in this endeavor was John Kelly himself. At the same time, an extraordinary human pushing unknown limits of human movement, but also the most ordinary dad with a cheesy grin who likes to pet dogs.
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Congratulations, John (and crew)! Thanks for letting us all take part in this grand, human-powered adventure.

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Journal - Far From Normal Along The AT