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Olivia is working on a series of articles about Appalachian Trail Hikers’ stories, based on the research discussed in this article.
She is currently in graduate school studying the psychology of outdoor recreation.

Where I spent my childhood in Maine, the end point of the Appalachian Trail (AT) of the traditional route of South to North (or Northbound, NOBO), allowed me to learn the magic of the AT from elementary school age. Driving through small towns in Maine that are on the AT, you are greeted by thru-hikers who look a little ragged but have great stories to share. My AT story includes the chance to merge my love of both science-based research and storytelling.

Dr. Jeremy Baker

I attended a small college in New Hampshire that boasts of one of the best exercise-science programs in New England. There is a lab space that allows students to prepare for a job in clinical settings; I learned how to read electrocardiograms to predict heart attacks, along with other allied health skills. I wasn’t as keen as many of my peers were about the idea of working inside a lab or a hospital. In the spring of freshman year, I learned of a research project with Dr. Jeremy Baker that took the traditional clinical setting out of the equation. The main goal was to figure out what happens to the bodies of thru-hikers as they travel the AT. We first met our subjects in Hot Springs, NC and then retested them in Hanover, NH.

There were ups and downs of the project, from pilot testing our research design repeatedly in a basement lab to finally being in the mountains of NC collecting data. We had to answer questions in our methodology without much guidance from the scant, long-term distance hiking scientific literature. How can we recruit volunteers for our study when they may only be in town for a day before continuing North? What is a hiker’s favorite snack: Little Debbie cakes, corn fritters, or an orange? How do you create an atmosphere that will intrigue an AT hiker to participate in your study? The answer to that, we found, was snacks, wi-fi, and conversation about their journey. More than anything else, hikers thanked us for taking the time to hear their story. We got more than just data on body fat from these hikers; we gathered experiences. 

North Carolina Testing Area

When you’re on the AT, you’re often given a trail name. Hot Springs, NC is the first trail town and maybe the first chance the hikers had to introduce themselves to a non-hiker with their new identity. Every name comes with a story. Participants were named after foods they ingested on the trail in staggering quantities (i.e. “Slim,” short for Slim Jims), the colors of their gear (black and yellow gear becomes “Bumblebee”) or something to do with their appearance (“Legs,” Papa Bear, etc). This made for interesting record keeping. 

As researchers we performed an empirical study on the most diverse group of people I had ever met. Hikers come in all different body shapes, fitness levels, occupations, and ages. Our research group had the chance of meeting the self-named oldest north to south thru-hiker. His stories were as impressive as his beard that kept him warm in the Maine winter. On the other end of the spectrum was to be the self-declared youngest female to hike the AT NOBO, and unassisted. 

Jump Test

The hikers tested in NC were overjoyed when they saw us again in NH. I had never seen people who were so excited to participate in research. Many of the hikers completed our protocol and immediately asked if they had improved jump distance, decreased body fat, or changes in overall body weight from their pre-test. The hikers remembered our names, and many joked, “Your waiting for us in NH motivated me to finish the trail.” They often took photos with us and referred to the research as a part of their hiking story. All of this led me to feel like we were doing more than just collecting data. We were becoming a part of each participant’s AT journey.  

Step Test

The hikers who had been tested in NC knew they would again be measured for height, weight, aerobic capacity, muscular strength and endurance, etc. The fantastic part of the project was seeing changes in participant from pre- to post-test. Our research was done in the “real-world setting” and I learned more than just how to take blood pressure accurately and how to best measure aerobic capacity. I learned why people wanted to leave their jobs and put their “normal lives” on hold for hiking day in and day out.

The hikers I observed growing up in Maine seemed to be a random parade of strangers all walking in the same direction. They lived without the comforts of home or family. Collecting data and chatting over a breakfast of fried green tomatoes showed me that the hikers became bonded as a family. They shared food, clothing, and resources essential to survive a long walk. When one person was able to hear from their friends and family, the whole group was happy for them.

Thanks to our gracious participants who volunteered, we have documented a few changes in thru-hikers bodies. Our evidence (N=25) suggests that long-distance trekking improves muscular power (measured with a jump test) and aerobic capacity (estimated with the Forest Service Step Test). Participants also reduced body weight, percent body fat, and lost ankle flexibility. Diet analysis of the hikers show that most were low in vitamins and minerals found in fresh fruit and vegetables. More specific outcomes can be seen in upcoming journal publications.

The implications of this study span further than a band of hikers who spend months walking up and down mountains. Walking is the most often recommended cardiovascular exercise for health-related outcomes, but people may adapt to this form of exercise rather quickly and the benefits eventually level off. Adding elevation changes and a weighted pack appear to provide health benefits beyond a regular walking program. This is clinically important because our findings suggest there are ways to increase outcomes from a walking program, without resorting to the usual high impact exercises.

I would have never thought that I would have the opportunity to apply my education in the mountains and woods around my home in Maine. Nor would I have imagined that I would spend my spring break laughing at stories of how participants got their trail names, while taking blood pressures. I feel truly lucky. In the future, I hope to publish data on the pockets of people often forgotten about in scientific study. There are hundreds of people each year who start the AT with dreams of reaching the Pine Tree State. Each of those people have a pack on their back and a story just waiting to be written and just maybe they’ll be interested in my research.

This Research was supported by NH-INBRE through an Institutional Development Award (IDeA), P20GM103506, from the National Institute of General Medical Sciences of the NIH. Special thanks to NH-INBRE for allowing a presentation of our findings at their annual conference and the New England American College of Sports Medicine meeting. Thank you to my parents for letting me get lost in the woods at a young age, and to Dr. Baker for helping me find who I am as a researcher. 

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