PCT Training: Building the Body and Mind

Where training really begins

Training for the Pacific Crest Trail didn’t begin when I decided to hike it. In many ways, it started years ago, long before the idea of ​​walking from Mexico to Canada seemed real.

I’ve always lived in a kind of constant training mode. Not because I’m chasing fitness goals or race times, but because I like to know what my body is capable of. I like to try it. Underlining it. Let’s see how he responds. The PCT turns out to be the greatest expression of that curiosity yet.

Still, if I’m honest, the real turning point came on the Colorado Trail. That was the first time I tried hard enough, long enough, and consistently to answer a pretty important question: cHow can my body handle this kind of exertion, day after day, for weeks?

The CT did not limit itself to answering that question. It completely reshaped my way of thinking about training. It showed me that preparing for a hike isn’t about fitness. It’s about durability, recovery and consistency, and learning to listen before your body has to scream.

Stay Prepared Without Overdoing It

Since leaving the Colorado Trail, I’ve tried to maintain a steady pace instead of chasing extremes. Most weeks, this equates to walks of between seven and fourteen miles, usually every other day. Sometimes more. Sometimes less. Life has a way of intervening and I have learned that flexibility is just as important as discipline.

I don’t try to prove anything in training. I’m trying to stay in shape without exhausting myself before I reach the border. I already know that I can walk long days. What matters most now is showing up consistently and feeling good about doing so.

Stretching: The Core I Used to Ignore

If there’s one thing I’ve learned the hard way, it’s that stretching isn’t optional, especially if you plan to walk all day for five or six months straight.

Last year I had a knee injury that forced me to confront something I had been neglecting for a long time. Strength without mobility is a liability. Since then, stretching has become a cornerstone of my routine rather than an afterthought.

I focus a lot on full-body mobility, with special attention to the lower half: hamstrings, calves, hips, and IT bands. As someone who wears zero drop shoes, I’m especially aware of the added stress it puts on my Achilles tendon and calves. Flexibility is not just about comfort. It’s all about preventing injuries, and along the way, avoiding injuries is the whole game.

I think of stretching as the foundation of the house I’m trying to build. You can build up strength and mileage, but if the foundation isn’t solid, it doesn’t take much for things to crack.

Mobility is important, especially on uneven terrain.

Strength Training for Trail Endurance

In addition to hiking and stretching, I continue to do strength training. Nothing flashy. Nothing extreme. Squats, lunges, Romanian deadlifts, weighted calf raises. Enough to maintain strength and stability without tearing me apart.

I’m not trying to get in shape at the gym. I’m trying to be tough.

Carrying a backpack for twenty miles a day, five days straight, isn’t about max lifting or aesthetics. It’s about resilience and structural strength, about being able to keep moving when everything feels a little tired and a little sore.

I pay close attention to what my body tells me. Green flags are things like increased endurance, stronger climbs, and faster recovery. The warning signs are pain, instability, and profound fatigue—signs that it’s time to turn back. Ignoring those signals is how people end rallies early.

The importance of zero days, even before the tour

One thing I have learned and take seriously is the value of rest. I try to include one or two days of complete rest each week. No walks. No lifting. Just letting my body reset.

Overuse injuries are one of the most common reasons people leave the trail and don’t magically appear in the desert or Sierra. They are usually the result of ignoring recovery long before the first day.

Rest is not weakness. It’s part of the job.

Rest is also training.

Training the mind

As much as it is a physical effort, the mental aspect matters just as much, perhaps more.

There will be days along the way when everything will feel heavy. Days when motivation disappears. Days when quitting smoking seems logical. Training for that reality means learning to pause, breathe, and let a moment pass without letting it define the day.

I have found that gratitude, even for something small, can pull you back from the brink. A dawn. A quiet stretch of trail. A random act of kindness. Sometimes it comes down to putting one foot in front of the other and trusting that the feeling will change.

That’s part of why I write. This blog is not just a place to share the journey. It’s a record I can return to on tough days, a reminder of why I started when the reasons seem far away.

One step at a time, trusting the path and me to lead the way.

Getting ready

For me, PCT training is about building something sustainable. A body that can support the load. A mind that knows how to breathe in uncertainty. And a respect for recovery that keeps the entire system running.

I don’t need to be perfect. I just need to be prepared enough to get started.

Next time, I’ll talk about how I think about the team: what I’ve learned, what I bring to the table, and what I’m still debating.

Because training builds the engine.
The team simply decides how comfortable the ride will be.

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