My 17-pound pack, filled with water, lunch and rain gear, felt downright light as I plodded 9 miles uphill to the top of Mount LeConte.
After all, several years ago I was in failing health and my own weight was about double what it is now.
I could not have imagined then, while recovering from thyroid cancer and its complications, that I would be able to tackle this peak — my own personal Mount Everest of the Smokies.