Lindsay 0:10

Welcome back to Just Ruck. I'm your host Lindsay, and today's episode is six months, 30 miles in one migraine in the making. I just got back from a four day, three night backpacking trip through the rocky hills of Pennsylvania, carrying 40 pounds of gear, soaked in rain, and questioning every life choice that led me to this point. If you've ever wondered what it's like to take your training off the neighborhood trail and into the back country, this episode is for you. Let's talk about what happens when your Y meets wet socks, raw hips, and a heart rate. That should have landed you in the hospital. So grab your pack. This one is a wild ride. Six plus months in the making. I'm on the road south, the pa and the churning in my stomach was either nerves or the revolt of my drive-through breakfast. A year ago, I couldn't even get up a short 877 foot climb up to the summit of Mount Joe, and now my brother has talked me into a four day, three night backpacking trip through the rugged hills of PA backpacking. As in carrying everything you need for four days to survive while traversing 4,000 foot of elevation gain 30 miles a trail. Gulp, I haven't done this since 1998, as in last century, as in 30 years ago. 30 years. That's enough time to make me a grand aunt in age, who in their right mindset decides to embark on such a lifestyle change at my age. Well, if you're a frequent listener to this podcast, you're gonna know the answer to that question. I want to age well. Age with ability And to do that means keeping active and doing things that are difficult. I pulled into the trailhead lot and immediately made my way to the pit toilet. Taking mental note that even this primitive setup will be considered a luxury in a few hours. My nerves are somewhere between actually passing and then ramping up. When I spot one of our three person hiking team. Oh my God, this is real. And a short time later, that last member of our party arrived. We changed out of our travel shoes, cinched up our laces and weighed in Mr. Lightweight of our group, 25 pounds, followed by 35 pounds, and then meet at a hunk of 40 pounds. Ugh. But with the rocketing I've been doing, it really didn't feel that heavy at the time, and I hoisted it up onto my back and buckled in trekking poles in hand. We snapped a starting trek photo at the Trailhead sign and made our way down at the base. We met up with a flat wide trail and made note of the steep descent. This is a lollipop trail, so the section we just went down, we're going to be doing at the end of the trail. It's a cruel joke and there's a steep climb all the way back up to our trust cars. We checked out one of 4 million waterfalls we found on this trail before finding the ledger and signing in. Being a lifelong hiker of the ad keys, I was expecting the traditional wood ledger, hinge door and log book. Not in pa. Instead, it's marked by a red painted PVC tube with rolled up papers and a pencil, not nearly as satisfying to fill out. There's something about that Adirondack Ledger book that is intensely satisfying and calming to me. The stick of the lollipop is an old railroad bed that stretched on seemingly forever, but it finally veered off down to what sounds like a large brook or river. Idiot me. I opted to do very little research on this trail. I was hiking, trusting the other two to keep me on trail, and they both had done that before, but we meandered along the herd path beside the Roaring Brook. We passed a few other packers going in the opposite direction. One woman was close to ending her 60 mile through a hike of the loyal stock Traverse. We complimented her on her success and kept on. Our first site was five miles in due to the travel we had to take and a 1:00 PM start, we had to keep it moving. That trail eventually turned back up the hill, which turned into quite a problem for me. I had started off the day with a migraine and it wasn't leaving. My heart rate spiked to over 180 beats per minute, and I was slowing the crew down. It was bad enough that I warned them if I woke up like this again tomorrow, I was gonna actually have to turn back. 'cause not even two hours in, I already felt like a failure to mock my condition. The trail pat us back out onto that darn railroad bed and continued on. Before we hit the loop split, we opted to go clockwise. Knowing that on day three we would be going up a very steep, rocky section in the rain. Did I mention the rain yet? Mother Nature was blessing us with dry weather right now. But starting tonight, the rain was supposed to creep in and stick with us the end entire trip until then, we marched on in partial sun, comfortable temps, and before I realized it, we were at camp. A nice wide sprawling site with a big fire pit lined with down logs and rocks. Tent sites were plentiful and we all picked our area to set up me with my semi freestanding tent, the other with a trekking pole. And finally, Mr. Ultralight with his bivian tarp combo. Still full from lunch. Dinner really wasn't something I was needing, but it also happened to be my heaviest meal and I wanted that weight out of my pack, so I prepped it anyways, downing it with some electrolytes and migraine meds. I excused myself early with the hope of getting a good night's sleep to make the throbbing in my head just go away. But no luck. I'm pretty susceptible to caffeine and migraine meds. They have loads of it, so 12 hours of me staring at my tent, it was. I waited until 6:00 AM and emerged making my way the 200 yards down the trail to go find my bear. Can blasted thing weighs a million pounds, but I mean, it's worth it knowing that the critters, including bear, can't get in coffee. Pb and j grits made for a great morning start. As for my head, it felt great. I mean, no sleep, but at least my brain didn't wanna murder me anymore. Warded off further. I downed another liter of electrolytes. My bladder would protest soon, but it doesn't look like we'll be leaving anytime either. Some of the other guys were just very slow at getting up. After another cup of coffee, I dragged my camp chair down to the brook, parked it in the sand and watched the ganzer zip up and down the banks. Beautiful morning and partial sun made for an enjoyable start, but I could see the clouds rolling in, and it reminded me of what was to come the morning. Meals all finally cooked and consumed. Tents broken down and everything repacked, and we are back on the trail today, a seven mile hike was ahead of us. Nothing that sounded exciting, but the majority of the day was a long, slow climb up. About 1500 foot with a drastic 900 foot drop right at the end into World's End State Park. Time to test out my heart. Was it going to try to explode again today or not? We started off and started to climb. Not bad. 1 52 was my max. Much more reasonable and manageable, and of course, the issue is only replaced by another. My hips, they were sore. It wasn't overly comfortable, but I tried not to let it get to me, and it wasn't until I got to our lunch spot that I had another pit toilet that I got time to inspect them. Ouch. Both hip points were my pack's. Hip belt met my underwear. Had worn them both raw, stupid seams. Not to get too personal, but the offending underwear quickly came off leaving me now hiking in men's long Johns, as I also decided that my hiking pants from the day before weren't getting the job done either. And after lunch, we now made our way down that steep descent into the world's end state park. I really worried about the steep climb down like this because my knees were gonna be fully tested post physical therapy and only six weeks of the great range athlete training behind them. And to my surprise, they did just fine. Well fine by my definition anyways, at no point did I have to stop and think down with the bad, up with the good. One of our party parted to do some fly fishing while two of us continued on to the nature center to see about getting a campsite in the park with thunderstorms due to come in. We really didn't wanna be hunting for a site so much as getting one in good condition, not having to worry about trees coming down or getting flooded out. We waited for a third party, but eventually put up a map on the window and put a note that said, go this way. We're on our way to camp. Upon arrival, we set up and started to rain, and we strung up a tarp between the two trees to hide under and cook under. And our third party, yeah, eventually found us and joined us for an evening dinner. That night I excused myself early again. Since this time it's been two nights without sleep and two days of hiking behind me settling in. I all I remember was a crack of thunder and then nothing. 14 hours straight. I passed out cold. Best sleep, ever. Rain, more rain. Did I mention rain? Well, we cooked breakfast in the rain, packed up in the rain, made our way back to the visitor center in the rain, not passing up access to a working toilet and fancy filtered water. We stopped in using the opportunity to refill our water containers and freshen up well, we had opted for the lollipop version of this trail. There are start stop points in various locations and just about that time, two guys happened to come into the parking lot that just finished their quest and we overheard them saying. I absolutely love this trail and would totally do it again. Well, except for that last mile, it was then that I got a concerned look, that was in the direction we were about to travel. Remember when I asked you if I wanted to go up or down that rocky area when my crew asked? Yeah, well, we're about to go up it.. My GPS claimed it was about a 600 foot elevation climb and less than a mile with a 72% grade soaked, and now carrying easily five to seven pounds more in weight. Thanks to Mother Nature's tears. My raw hips now bandage feet and bruised top of my left foot. We're not overly excited to go, but it's too late now.. We were at the halfway point, so we might as well go forth and we set off crossing the river, stopping for a quick review of the danger steep climb experience hikers with a proof footwear only sign. Yeah, it's not ominous at all. Carry on. Within 50 foot of the sign, the trail went up seemingly straight up like an Adirondack drainage climb. All right. I've done these before, but I didn't typically carry anything more than a water and a few snacks, but I mean 40 pounds plus of soaking wet gear that I had on my back in the climb. Yeah, slow. But I kept going. I kept pushing. I kept grasping at each root, each rock hold, and each foot placement along the way up. And of course. Some asshole puts a road and a overlook at the top of the hard work we just accomplished. But man, that view was worth it. When we took a break refueled with sugar, salt, fat, and protein, slammed a liter of water and electrolytes and continued on, which was still up, but not nearly as bad. We quietly made our way to a lunch spot near another Mountain Creek. This time we opted for an extended lunch and my feet were thankful. I unleashed them from their bindings to dry out and even broke out the stove to have a hot meal and pound another liter of electrolytes. The campsite we were at had many good rocks and I huddled under my umbrella, stretched out my legs, and nodded off for a 30 minute nap. Still in the rain, we packed up and made our way to the next campsite for the night. And then came the mud. There's a funny thing about being at the top of a mountain, the climb up and the bottom, rarely muddy, but the top horrible stinky muck where you blindly leap from floating log to a rock, hoping not to slip in. Not that it mattered at this point. My feet were so wet, but at least they weren't muddy wet yet. It was at this point that I realized I'm slowing down every time I dropped my pack and picked it back up again. It felt heavier, but on we went, and thankfully the second half was a long ridge of the mountain. No big climbs, just mud puddles and hopping. And then finally, in the deep forest, cleared out to a large pond and several massive campsites overlooking the water. The ground, however, wasn't the greatest for pitching tents, lumpy and saturated, forcing us to spread out and search for a spot to set up for the night. Mine was on the opposite side of a drainage inlet to the pond, next to a massive thicket of roto dendron. Still raining. I was thankful that my Amazon fine tent could be pitched, fly first, keeping the inside tent nice and dry. If you haven't had the pleasure of wrangling a saturated nylon fly onto tent poles, you're lucky. The process was born difficult than I anticipated, but in the end, everything that I needed to be dry was so, and I hobbled my way over to our cooking tarped area. The rain was finally starting to let up, giving us a nice view of the pond for our dinners last night. Last chats around an alcohol stove flame waiting for the water to boil soar blisters, and surprisingly not bug bit. We set our goodnights and headed off and our scattered tents. Morning came early as my 5:00 AM alarm went off reminding me that Monday is typically a workday no matter. We wanted to get an early start anyways since we still had to hike out and drive to our respective homes, cold breakfasts and a camp breakdown as we made our way off the mountain. My pack is feeling like a very familiar weight at this point, and my body is just annoyed at my push to keep going forward. The climb down was about half the distance we needed to go for the day and was a consistent grade of pounding on the knees, but it was worth it. That new warmth of sunshine breathe life into the forest floor, giving us a stunning show of wild flower carpeting and the narrow path before us. Once at the bottom, we walked the logging roads until we came to a bridge, which connected us to our lollipop stick. One big climb up to the railroad bed, and two, three miles of flat walk left knowing the end was growing near my body. Started to give up, no longer thinking it had to put in the effort. I found myself wishing I had brought more sugary snacks to keep feeding the quick fuel just to keep me going. The flat of the row of bread was torture. It stretched before you, seemingly, forever ever changing, ever giving you the satisfaction of seeing your finishing point. The outta nowhere, the red canister ta. We're we're here. We did it. We're finished. Uh, wait. Remember that steep climb down from the parking lot at the very beginning? Yeah, I forgot about it too. The two guys much fitter than me. Seemingly sprinted the top. As I slowly with more mental willpower, demanding each limb to step upward than I expected, I inched my way up. Upon reaching the parking area, the fanfare was lacking. I hoisted up my trucking poles in a silent, eh victory, plotted plotted my way to the car and then listened. That beautiful music of it unlocking beep beep. We said our goodbyes changed into our clothes that, you know, wouldn't stand up on their own stench. Let our feet breathe in some comfy shoes. Time for that long drive home with the luxury of heated seats, and I'm not ashamed to say it, but some drive through McDonald's. Double Quarter Pounder. Get in my mouth, All right, here's what I've learned. Rocking works. Every steep climb, every slippery descent, every long haul under a loaded pack. I did have the strength to do it because I've been rucking. I mean, not sprinting, not really weightlifting like a beast, though I did put some in. I just showed up, was consistent. Walk with great, build the muscle, the cardio at the same time. I mean, it trained my legs, my lungs, my grit. When it came time to hike the 30 miles through elevation and the rain and barely any sleep, my body actually showed up for me. And that's what that training does. That's why it matters. So here's your mission this week. Test your training. Plan a longer ruck than usual. Add some elevation, maybe add time, add weight, push it to the edge just a little bit. I don't want you to break yourself, but to prove what your body can do when you treat it like it matters. And when you do, I wanna hear about it. So tag me at just rucking it or jump into the comments on Substack and let me know what you did and how it felt. Because Rucking isn't just about training for trails, it's training for life. And life is rucking wonderful, especially when you realize how far you've come.