A Pivot?
About seven miles in, the rain started as a drizzle, giving me just enough time to consider cutting my route short. Now, it was coming down in sheets, transforming the packed dirt trail into a slippery mess. My pace had already slowed to 3.3 mph—not terrible with a 20-pound vest strapped to my back, but certainly not what I'd started with. The sensible choice would be to turn back.
I checked my watch: I was just over two hours in. "I think I'll keep going," I convinced myself, adjusting my Zerk 25 pack and pushing through the downpour.
This wasn't supposed to be a ruck at all. My original plan was a 15K training trail run, but my body had other ideas. My HRV had been unusually low for days, and my Garmin insisted I had a "strained training status." Rather than ignore the warnings, I decided to adapt.
The solution? I would load up my pack with a 20-pound vest, add water, and turn the run into a weighted hike. The distance would be the same, but the system would be stressed differently.
Gearing Up for the Unexpected
My setup was simple but effective for the 45-degree weather: Rainier pants that were now proving their worth, a base layer under a wind-blocking vest, a buff around my neck, a merino hat, and cheap stretch-knit gloves. Inside my Zerk 25, I'd packed a 20-pound vest, a liter of water on one side, and a 20-ounce flask of Scratch hydration in the pocket.
No food, though. I hadn't planned to be out longer than three hours, and honestly, nine miles seemed realistic at the time.
The Middle Miles Grind
The first 5K segment went surprisingly well – 54 minutes and change, averaging about 3.4 mph. Not bad, considering the added weight. "Just hoping I might be able to get up to 3.6," I recorded at one checkpoint, "and at times I am. But I'm in the more hilly section of today's hike, so I'll take 3.4."
It was about an hour in when I started feeling the back of my right heel on the outside edge. That familiar sensation of skin rubbing against shoe, threatening to develop into a full-blown blister. The same spot that gave me trouble during last year's ultra.
"Mental reminder," I noted, "put some anti-blister or anti-chafing cream on my feet before a hike."
The second 5K was markedly slower – 57 minutes and change. I could feel my legs growing heavier, less willing to lift as high with each step. The blister spot hadn't worsened, which either meant it had stabilized or had already broken. I chose not to investigate mid-hike.
The Mental Game
By mile seven, the rain had started, presenting a decision point. Cut it short for an 8-mile day, or push through for the full distance? Despite deteriorating conditions, I stuck with the original plan.
The last couple miles required a mental shift. I switched from an audiobook to music, and the difference was immediate. "Starting off with 'Living on a Prayer' – it was almost like the perfect tempo to match cadence," I noted. The right soundtrack transformed a grueling section into something manageable.
What wasn't as easily managed was the developing pain in my back – "almost like ribs dislocated," though I knew that wasn't actually the case. Just another knot to work through later.
The Final Push
The last climb had my heart rate jumping into zone 4, but I maintained that 3.3 mph pace. The trail was familiar territory – knowing every path in the park helped me piece together almost exactly 15K as planned.
"1,400 feet on the day of ascent," I recorded at the summit. "Not bad when you don't have any hills." The irony wasn't lost on me.
A final systems check revealed the expected issues: that potential blister on my right heel, stiffness in my left lateral posterior ankle (either from the shoes or the inclines), and that persistent knot in my back. But nothing catastrophic – just the usual tax paid for a good training day.
The Aftermath
As I finished the third 5K segment (56 minutes – slightly faster than the second but not as quick as the first), Garmin delivered its verdict: still strained. I had to laugh. "It is what it is."
Looking at the final stats, I couldn't help but feel satisfied despite the machine's judgment. The hike totaled 9.32 miles with 1,400 feet of elevation gain in just under three hours. My heart rate stayed mostly controlled – only 12% above zone two, though I did hit 174 bpm toward the end climbing those final grades.
The training effect registered at 4.1 with a recovery recommendation of 35 hours. "I don't know how much I want to believe all this stuff," I admitted, "but we'll go with it for a while."
What I did believe in was the hunger that had developed over those 9+ miles. "All right," I concluded, shutting off the recording. "Let's go get something to eat."
Lessons from the Trail
This hike reinforced some key principles I already knew but sometimes forget:
Listen to your body's signals (like low HRV), but don't let them sideline you completely – adapt instead
The right gear combination makes all the difference in changing weather
Music can reset your mental state when fatigue sets in
Always, always remember the anti-chafing cream
Next time, I'll be better prepared for blister prevention, and might reconsider my ankle support. But overall, trading a run for a weighted hike proved to be exactly what my body needed – regardless of what my Garmin thought about it.
Final Stats
Here's the breakdown for those keeping score:
Distance: 9.32 miles
Time: 2:48:16
Average Pace: 3.3 mph
Heart Rate: Avg 133 bpm, Max 174 bpm
Elevation Gain: 1,400 feet
Heart Rate Zones:
Zone 2: 88% (≈148 minutes)
Zone 3: 20% (≈34 minutes)
Zone 4: 6% (≈10 minutes)
Training Effect: 4.1
Acute Load: 530
Recovery Time: 35 hours
Max Speed: 4.8 mph
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