The mental game: walking when you don’t feel like it

There is a romantic image people have of hiking the Pacific Crest Trail (PCT). They imagine a badass adventurer walking confidently through breathtaking landscapes, smiling at every sunrise, and feeling deeply connected to nature with every step.

Let me clarify something right away. Sometimes hiking the PCT feels less like a spiritual journey and more like a backpacking hostage situation, involving rocky ledges, snow-covered mountain passes, and miles and miles away from any kind of civilized society. No matter how much you’d like to be off-trail at any given time, amenities are too far away (unless you’re willing to climb an extra rugged mountain pass that will eventually take you off-trail).

Morning negotiations

There are days when the mountains are beautiful, the weather is perfect, and your legs feel strong. Then there are days when the alarm goes off at 5:00 am, the sleeping quilt is warm, and every cell in your body votes unanimously to stay exactly where it is.

Unfortunately, the trail doesn’t care how you feel. There are still kilometers to go. Welcome to the mind game. I call this «the morning negotiations.»

Every difficult day of hiking begins with a negotiation. Your rational brain says, «We should get going. We have seventeen miles today.» Your emotional brain responds: “Counteroffer: absolutely not.”

You stand there staring at the ceiling of your tent while your sleeping mat feels like the most luxurious object ever created by humanity. Five minutes become ten. Ten becomes twenty. Eventually, you realize that if you stay longer, you’ll have to explain to your trail family why you’re still at camp at noon. Then you begin the painful process of becoming a functional human being. In other words, you give in, giving way to the demands of your inner conscience, even if that surrender seems like a tragic loss.

Every zipper sounds offensive. Every gust of cold wind feels personal. And somehow your backpack gained fifteen pounds overnight even though you’ve been eating everything in sight.

The myth of motivation

One thing I’ve learned on the PCT is that motivation is wildly overrated. People at home imagine that hikers are constantly motivated. They are not.

The most successful hikers aren’t motivated every day. They are just stubborn. There is a big difference. Motivation says, «I feel inspired to walk twenty miles.» Stubbornness says, “I’ve already put on the shoes and now I’m too committed to quit.”

Guess which one appears most frequently?

The truth is that many days are driven entirely by impulse. You start walking because it’s easier than standing still. Then you continue walking because stopping would mean taking off your backpack.

By the end you’ve covered ten miles without feeling particularly excited about it. Congratulations. You have achieved it accidentally.

The complaint phase

The first few miles of a hard day are usually spent complaining. Not necessarily out loud. Sometimes it’s an internal monologue.

My feet hurt. My shoulders hurt. Why is this hill so steep? Who designed this trail? Why do rocks exist? Did we really need mountains?

The complaining continues until the brain finally gets bored with itself. It is difficult to maintain a peak of negativity for eight hours straight. Even your own mind starts rolling its eyes.

Over time, you get into a rhythm and realize that things aren’t as terrible as you originally thought. They are still terrible. A little less terrible.

The dangerous game of trail math

Nothing destroys morale faster than bad math. For example: You look at your watch and discover that you have walked three miles. Excellent! Then you remember you have seventeen more left. Not great. This is where your brain starts creating more and more ridiculous calculations.

«If I average three miles per hour for the next six hours and at the same time develop superpowers, I could finish by mid-afternoon.»

The problem is that focusing on the entire day becomes overwhelming. Twenty miles sounds impossible. The next water source looks manageable. The next snack sounds even better. The next descent seems quite achievable.

One of the biggest mental tricks on the trail is to reduce the challenge. Don’t walk twenty miles. Walk until lunch. Then walk to the water. Then walk to the campsite. Suddenly you have finished the day without realizing it.

It’s basically psychological fraud, but it works.

The power of snacks

Let’s take a moment to appreciate the true hero of hiking. No trekking poles. Not mountain runners. Not ultralight equipment.

Snacks!

A surprising number of trail crises can be solved with food. Do you feel discouraged? Eat something. Do you feel tired? Eat something. Questioning every life decision that brought you here? Definitely eat something.

I’ve had moments where I was convinced my entire walk was falling apart. Then I’d consume a Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup and suddenly decide that life was worth living again.

Mental strength is important. But sometimes mental toughness is just peanut butter covered in milk chocolate.

The second unexpected wind

One of the strangest things about hiking is how often your mood changes. A day that starts horribly can become one of your favorites.

You crawl out of the camp. You complain for hours. You wonder why you voluntarily chose this lifestyle. Then you reach a ridge. Or see an incredible sunset. Or meeting friends you haven’t seen in weeks. Or discover the magic of the trails.

Suddenly, everything changes. The suffering has not disappeared. You just remembered why you are here. The trail has a fun way of rewarding perseverance. Not every day. But often enough to keep you moving.

The real victory

When people think about the PCT, they often assume that the biggest challenge is physical.

The elevation. The weather. The long kilometers. Those things are hard, but the real challenge is getting up and doing it again tomorrow. And the next day. And the next day.

Especially when you don’t feel like it. Especially when you’re tired. Especially when the excitement wears off and it starts to feel like work. Because that’s when the mental game begins.

Every morning you make a decision. You put on your shoes. Carry your backpack on your shoulder. You take a step. Then another. And finally, those steps add up to something incredible. Not because you were motivated every day. Not because you loved every minute. Not because you felt strong all the time. But why did you move on anyway.

That’s the secret of hiking. The hikers who come to Canada are not necessarily the strongest. They are the ones who learned to walk when they didn’t feel like it. Which, if we’re honest, is a skill that’s surprisingly useful in the rest of life, too.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have an important appointment with a bag of peanut M&Ms and several miles of reluctant progress.

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