One Hundred Steps at a Time: God Met Me on Mt. LeConte

“...and with your feet fitted with the readiness that comes from the gospel of peace.”

Sometimes the miracle isn’t reaching the summit. It’s who you become on the way there.

The Bucket List

I have a bucket list.

It’s called 49 Things I Want to Do Before I Turn 50.

Some of the things on it don’t cost a dime. But they cost me courage.

Because so many of the things on that list aren’t about money —they’re about believing I can do them.

One of the things near the top: Hike Mt. LeConte in the Smoky Mountains.

I had never done it. I had always been afraid to. But I added it anyway — as a dare to myself.

My gym hosts a group hike every November. And this year, I decided I was going — whether I felt ready or not.

The funny part? I didn’t know if I would feel ready by now.

This year has demanded a new kind of strength from me: Physical healing. Emotional rebuilding.Identity shifting. It has been… a lot.

But something in me said: Go. Show up. Try.

Getting Ready

So I got the hiking boots. I got the headlamp. I packed the snacks.

I showed up at the trailhead in the cold morning air —and we began.

My sweet friends that stay with me, he told me not to look down here, to the right is a straight drop off.

The Climb

I felt the altitude almost immediately.

I have exercise-induced asthma, so breathing uphill is already a thing. I brought my inhaler, but even with that, my lungs were struggling.

And when your breath goes, your mind starts talking:

"Am I too slow?"

"Is everyone ahead of me?

"Is my body even strong enough for this?

You know those thoughts.

I hit Alum Cave. And the real climbing began.

The altitude. The hips locking. The stopping every hundred feet just to breathe.

I wasn’t giving up. But my body felt like it might.

A couple of sweet gym friends (much younger than me) stayed with me. They didn’t rush me. They didn’t make me feel behind. They just stayed.

And eventually…we reached the final stretch.

That last mile?

Brutal.

It took two hours. Jagged rock after jagged rock. Every time I thought, “This has to be the last turn,” there was more.

But then —I heard the wind.

Our sweet gym fam Koa Strength & Fitness in Oak Ridge Tennesse

And then I saw gravel.

And then I saw the bridge.

And there were my gym owners —waiting for me.

Hands up. Tears in my eyes. “We did it.”

We ate. We rested. We celebrated. We took a pic.

And then reality hit:

I still had to go back down.

The Descent

I ended up going down mostly alone.

Four hours of quiet. No phone service. No music. Just me, my breath, my aching hips, and God.

There were parts of that descent where I was bargaining with my boots:

“Just get me down the mountain. One piece. That’s all I need from you.”

My two second toes went numb. My knees burned. My hip flexors were locked. My pigtail braids were soaked in sweat, literally dripping down my shirt.

But I kept going.

One careful step at a time. Plant the walking stick. Choose the next foothold. Trust that I could do it.

And somewhere in that silence, my mind opened.

I thought about my kids. My mom. My siblings. My husband. My clients. My life.

I asked God questions I’ve been avoiding. I asked Him about things that haven’t made sense. I asked Him where He was using all of this.

And I heard — not out loud — but deep in me:

“I’ve been here the whole time....just keep going.”

I didn't manage to capture the 'smoky mountain' clouds that literally poured in as the sun lowered behind the mountain.

The Moment

The sun was lowering and I still wasn’t done.

The gym owner ran back to check on me:

“I got you! Just .7 miles! You’re almost there!”

Okay. I can do .7.

Pain either way —I might as well move through it.

Then:

“A quarter mile! They’re in the parking lot waiting for you!”

Okay. I can do a quarter.

And then —the final bridge appeared.

I looked at my boots. Covered in dirt, sweat, effort, faith.

And I cried.

Not because I was tired. Not because it was hard.

But because:

I did not quit. And God did not leave me.

Even when I didn’t know the best way through. Even when I didn’t trust the path. Even when I was scared.

He was the one guiding my feet.

And instantly —I thought of Ephesians 6:

“...and with your feet fitted with the readiness that comes from the gospel of peace.”

I had an Ephesians 6 day. And God met me on the mountain.

The views coming down took my breath, the altitude took my breath on the way up lol.

What I Learned

Strength isn’t always loud.

Sometimes strength is:

• Taking one hundred steps at a time

• Resting without quitting

• Trusting you will finish, even if it takes you longer than others

Sometimes strength is quiet, steady, sacred. Sometimes strength is just showing up.

And sometimes the miracle isn’t reaching the top —it’s who you become on the way there.

If You’re In a Climb Right Now

If you’re somewhere in your own climb right now, listen…

It’s okay to go slow. It’s okay to stop and breathe. It’s okay to take it in small pieces.

You don’t have to conquer the whole mountain today.

Just take the next handful of steps you can see. And then the next ones. That’s enough.

God doesn’t meet us at the finish line. He meets us in the hard part.

– Danya

If you’re in a season of rebuilding and would love support, steady structure, and someone to walk with you — I’d be honored to help.

Send me a message that says “CLIMB” and I’ll reach out personally. 🤍

About the Author — Danya Powers

Mom of 8. Wife. Coach. I’ve been in the fitness and wellness world since 2004, but the real work I do is helping women rebuild their relationship with their bodies, their strength, and their identity.

I’m not a magazine cover coach — I’m a woman who has lived some life. I’ve walked through healing, weight changes, depression, a hysterectomy, and learning how to trust my body again.

I work with women who are in the middle of it — the ones who are trying, starting again, taking it one breath and one decision at a time.

If that’s you, I’m glad you’re here.

We’re just doing this together — one honest step at a time.