Welcome back to Just Ruck It. I’m your host, Lindsay—and today, we’re celebrating something big.

One year ago, I stood on the side of Mount Jo, gasping for breath and questioning everything. That hike was a gut check. I struggled—physically, mentally, emotionally. But it also cracked something open.

I knew I needed change. I knew I couldn’t do it alone.
 So I picked up a pack—and I picked up a coach.
 James Appleton of the Seek To Do More program helped me build the foundation.

Since then, rucking has been the one thing I’ve stayed consistent with—even through knee issues, physical therapy, and more personal loss than I ever could have imagined. Mentors, friends, guiding lights in my life—gone.

The weight I’ve carried this year hasn’t just been in my ruck. It’s been on my heart and in my head.
 But here’s the truth: rucking gave me a way to carry it.
 To feel it. To heal it.
 To build a stronger body and a quieter mind.

This episode isn’t just about what I’ve done—it’s about what rucking does.
It’s about finding a way through the hard stuff, one weighted step at a time.
And it’s why I started this podcast in the first place—
To help someone else feel what I’ve come to believe:
That rucking might just be the most powerful thing you can do for your mind and your muscles.

Let’s look back at a year under weight—and forward to whatever comes next.

When I say I started simple—I mean it.
 My first ruck?
 A CamelBak with two 5lb dumbbells shoved in.
 I did just over 4 kilometers.
 My pace? 13 minutes per kilometer.
 But that wasn’t the point. The point was… I started.

Fast forward one year—
 I returned to that same route.
 Only this time, I added a lap.
 I carried 25 lbs.
 I covered 6 kilometers.
 And I shaved my pace to 11 minutes, 30 seconds per km.

The pack? Now it’s a full backpacking setup—
 Stuffed with my actual camping gear.
 It’s not tactical. It’s not flashy.
 But it’s mine. It’s comfortable. It’s earned.
 It’s the pack I choose now for everything.

I can’t say my body weight has shifted much…
But I’ve traded fat for muscle,
excuses for habits,
and my spot on the sofa for a mindset built on grit.

I’m not here to sell perfection.
 I’m here to show what happens when you just… don’t quit.
 No matter how slow, how messy, or how much life tries to pull you down.

Choosing to get out, put on a pack, and move…
 It’s brought me to places I never imagined.

At first, it was just about showing up.
 But that decision opened the door to some incredible local trails, unforgettable challenges, and a level of strength—inside and out—I didn’t know I had.

One of the biggest milestones?
 Completing the Rucking Rochester Trifecta:
A 32-mile section-hiked journey connecting the Genesee Valley Greenway, the Lehigh Valley Trail, and the Auburn Trail.

I started that challenge gasping for breath in the first 5 miles with just 10 lbs on my back.
 I finished it cruising through 8 miles with 35 lbs like it was no big deal.
 The difference a year makes? Unreal.

And I didn’t stop there.

I tackled the Fulton Chain Trifecta in the Adirondacks—three mountains I remembered scrambling up easily as a kid. But this time around, it wasn’t so easy.
Rucking up those trails in the early days was humbling—but I earned that patch.

Then winter came.
 And in New York, that’s no joke.
 But instead of pausing, I pivoted.
 Snowshoeing, winter hiking—new challenges, more gear, and creative solutions to keep my water from freezing and my spirits from sinking.

Spring hit, and I pushed harder.
 I entered the Running of the Green—my first ever ruck race.
30 pounds.
5 miles.
A 15-minute mile pace the whole way.
That was my fastest, hardest push yet—and I felt unstoppable.

Next, I craved strength.
 So I jumped into the Great Range Athlete program—six weeks of intense training that prepped me for my first overnight backpacking trip.

4 days.
 3 nights.
 30 miles.
 40 lbs.

Rain, migraines, rock scrambles, blisters…
 and I loved every second of it.
Type A fun all the way.

Two weeks later, I closed out my first year by climbing two Adirondack high peaks—Cascade and Porter—solo.
But honestly? That wasn’t even the best part.

The moment I’ll never forget?
 My redemption hike.

I went back to Mount Jo.
 Not alone this time—but with my crew from Seek To Do More and Great Range Athlete.
 The very people who saw me grow, struggle, and rise.

Of course—because it’s me—it rained the whole way up.
 But this time, I carried my pack the whole way.
 We didn’t take the long, gentle trail.
 We took the steep, fast side—the one that would’ve broken me a year ago.

At the top, soaked and smiling, we raised a summit toast.
 Bourbon with a maple syrup back.
 There were hugs, laughter, and yes—some rain-hidden tears.

Because I made it.
 A full year.
 A new me.
 With new friends, new strength, and new dreams.

What I’ve Learned After a Year of Rucking

Over the past year, I’ve rucked through rain, snow, sun, and plenty of self-doubt. But I’ve also learned more about myself—and this practice—than I ever expected. Here’s what a year under weight taught me:

1. Just Start.

It doesn't matter how you start—only that you do.
My first ruck wasn’t fancy. I used a basic CamelBak hydration pack with two 5-pound dumbbells jammed inside. It was awkward, it didn’t fit right, and the weight shifted constantly. But it got me out the door. That’s what mattered.
I think a lot of people wait for the “perfect gear” or “the right time.” But I’ve learned that momentum comes from doing, not planning. Your first step doesn’t have to be flawless. It just has to be forward.

2. Consistency Is More Important Than Weight.

I’ve carried 10 lbs and I’ve carried 40. But none of that mattered if I wasn’t consistent.
 There were days when I didn’t feel strong enough to add weight, so I just walked. That still counted.
 It took about six weeks of repeatedly showing up—whether it was 10 minutes or 3 miles—before I felt ready to invest in upgraded gear. That slow build helped me build the habit, not just the muscle.
The magic isn’t in the number on your back. It’s in the act of choosing to ruck even when motivation’s missing.

3. Pack Style Is Deeply Personal.

Let’s be honest—packs can make or break your ruck.
 I’ve tested multiple styles over the year, and I’ve learned that what works for someone else may not work for me.
 My go-to is a Gregory backpacking pack. It has the support, structure, and padding to carry weight comfortably over long distances. It’s built for bulk and terrain, and it’s what I reach for 90% of the time.
 But I also use my GoRuck pack—especially for shorter, high-intensity efforts or race day. It keeps the weight high and tight, which is great for performance, though definitely not as cozy.
 That same pack pulls double duty as my work bag, turning my daily commute into a stealthy rucking session.
 Bottom line? Try different packs and find what your body prefers. Comfort matters.

4. Footwear Is a Moving Target.

One of the most frustrating—and evolving—parts of rucking has been footwear.
 I’ve tried trail runners, road shoes, hiking boots, zero drop, you name it.
 For gravel or pavement, I lean toward sneakers or trail runners. But the minute roots, rocks, or elevation get involved? I’m reaching for boots with ankle support.
 The biggest game changer, though?
 Ditching my orthotics.
 At first, I thought they were a must. But as I gained strength in my legs, feet, and core, I realized the orthotics were doing too much of the work. Taking them out allowed my body to adapt, to stabilize, and to strengthen naturally.
And of course—socks matter more than I ever expected. Darn Tough, you have my heart. Blister prevention, comfort, and durability all in one.

5. Trekking Poles Are Underrated.

I didn’t understand the hype—until I started using them.
 In the beginning, I needed both poles. They helped me climb, descend, and even power through on flat terrain.
 They gave me confidence and reduced the pressure on my knees when I was still building strength.
 Lately, I’ve started using just one pole, especially on technical mountain hikes where I need a free hand to scramble or grab tree roots.
 But I always bring them. Even if I don’t use both, they’ve become essential tools in my pack—not crutches, but companions.

6. Knee Pain Wasn’t About My Knees.

This one was huge.
 When I started, I was in PT and struggling with every descent. My knees felt unstable, sore, and unpredictable and sounded like velcro.
 But over time, through consistent rucking and strength training, that pain diminished. Not because I “fixed” my knees—but because I strengthened everything around them.
Turns out, the issue wasn’t isolated.
Weak calves, underactive quads, hamstrings that weren’t pulling their weight, and stiff ankles were all part of the puzzle.
As I slowly addressed those areas, my knees followed suit.
Now I’m tackling my next target—hip flexors—and continuing to build my body from the ground up.
Pain, I’ve learned, is often a messenger. It’s not always the source, but a signal to look deeper.

7. I Needed Rucking, More Than I Knew.

I started rucking for physical reasons. But I kept rucking for mental ones.
 Before this journey, I was stuck in a cycle of doom scrolling, stress snacking, and feeling overwhelmed.
 I didn’t realize how much I needed something to carry me—until I started carrying weight.
Rucking became my therapy. My movement. My ritual.
The fresh air, the sweat, the focus—all of it helped me process the things I couldn’t sit still with.
It gave me space to think clearly. To let go. To plan from a place of logic instead of exhaustion.
It replaced my quick-fix habits with long-term strength—not just in my body, but in my mindset.

What Will Year Two Bring?

So what’s next?

Year one taught me how to start.
 Year two? It’s going to teach me how to keep going—especially on the days I don’t want to.
Because those are the days that matter most.

I’m not chasing perfection.
 I’m chasing consistency.
The kind that shows up in snow, rain, stress, birthdays, and burnout.
The kind that builds resilience even when motivation's gone missing.

This next year will bring more than just miles—it’ll bring change.
 I’m turning 50.
 Which… whew. Let’s just sit with that for a second.
 But instead of dreading it, I’m leaning into it.
 I had a goal: 50 miles by 50. And it’s time to make it happen.
Cranberry Lake 50, you’re on my radar.

But before that?
 There’s the Letchworth 20-mile Mammoth March.
Rugged terrain, steep climbs—and the mental game to match.
This will be my next true test.

And I’m not stopping there.

I want more patches.
 More summits.
 More days I didn’t think I could finish—but did anyway.

This year, I’ll keep chasing:

• The LP9er
• The Saranac 6
• Maybe the Firetower Challenge
• And eventually… the ADK 46er title.

Every challenge will demand more.
 More grit. More training. More belief in myself.
 And every single one will be earned under weight.

So if you’re wondering where to go after your first year of rucking—
 Here’s your answer:
 Keep going.
Make the commitment bigger than your excuses.
Build a body that holds your dreams—and a mind that carries them forward.

Year two… I’m ready for you.

For Anyone Ready to Start

If you’re thinking about starting your own ruck journey—do it.
 You don’t need a certain fitness level. You don’t need fancy gear.
 You just need a pack, a little weight, and a willingness to show up.

Your starting line doesn’t need to be epic.
 Mine was a basic backpack with two dumbbells.
 It was awkward. It was unpolished.
 But it was mine—and it got me moving.

Here’s what I’d tell anyone just getting started:

• Keep it simple.
  Don’t stress about the weight or distance. A 10-minute walk with 5 pounds still counts.
  Build the habit before you build the mileage.
• Show up consistently.
  Once a week, twice a week—whatever you can do.
  Progress doesn’t come from intensity, it comes from showing up when it’s boring, uncomfortable, or inconvenient.
• Use what you have.
  Your old school backpack. Your work bag. Books, bricks, bottles—if it fits, it works.
  You don’t need permission or perfect gear to get strong.
• Celebrate small wins.
  Every lap. Every step. Every day you didn’t quit.
  Write it down, talk about it, own it. Your future self will thank you.
• And know your why.
  Rucking has a way of stripping things down.
  It gives your mind space to think and your body something real to carry.
  Start with whatever’s weighing on you—and let the miles help you move through it.

You don’t have to be ready.
 You just have to begin.
 And if you need someone in your corner—I’m right here, cheering you on.

🎯 This Week’s Challenge: Your Ruckiversary Starts Today

This week, I’ve got a two-fold challenge for you—because no matter where you are in your journey, there’s always a next step worth taking.

👟 For the First-Timers: Start Your Year One

This is your moment. Your “day one.”
 Your challenge is simple:
 Commit to one ruck a week for the next 4 weeks.
That’s it. No pressure on weight, distance, or speed.
Pick a pack, put in a little weight, and move.

Track your progress—distance, time, or just how you feel.
 Because this isn’t about crushing records.
 It’s about proving to yourself that you can keep showing up.
Start small. Stay consistent.
By this time next year? You won’t believe how far you’ve come.

🏔 For the Returning Ruckers: Plan Your Big Push

Already been rucking for a while? Good.
 Now it’s time to dream bigger.

Your challenge:
 Choose your next big goal—and start training for it.
Whether that’s a race, a 50-miler, a patch challenge, or your first mountain climb—commit to it.

Then break it down.
 What’s your timeline?
 What gear do you need to test?
 What workouts or terrain will help you prepare?
 Put it on your calendar. Make it real.

This isn’t just about doing more—it’s about doing it with purpose.

🎙 Closing & Call to Action

If this episode lit a fire in you—or even just made you think, “maybe I could try this”—then share it.
Send it to a friend. Post it to your story.
You never know who might need that extra push to pick up their own pack and start moving forward.

And if you haven’t already, hit subscribe so you don’t miss what’s coming next.
 There’s a whole new year of grit, growth, and rucking ahead—and I’m bringing you with me.

You can follow the journey over on Instagram @JustRuckingIt or join the crew on Substack at JustRuckIt.Substack.com.
 Let’s keep showing up—together.

And as always…
 Life is rucking wonderful – because it starts with just 1 step and it can change everything.