[1684 Days to go] Why Rushing the Pacific Crest Trail Isn’t an Option for Me

Why 5 Years? Preparing for the Pacific Crest Trail (Slowly)

I bet most people reading this are thinking, "Riiiiight... 5 years to prepare for the Pacific Crest Trail? Sure thing." And honestly, I don’t blame you—it is a long way away. But there are a few key reasons why I need all of that time to prepare, some I’ve touched on before, and some I haven’t yet mentioned.

First off, if I tried to start the PCT in six months, I’d likely last a few days before being forced off the trail with swollen knees and quietly sobbing to myself. My current body? Flat feet, dodgy knees, and the tightest muscles you’ve ever seen. It wouldn’t take long before I had to tap out. When I mapped out everything I need to fix in order to be fit enough to take on this adventure, I realized this wasn’t going to be a quick process.

Let’s start with the feet. I’ve been relying on prescription orthotics and cushy shoes to get by day to day. They were prescribed to me over a decade ago to fix my plantar fasciitis, and they did the job back then, but since then, I’ve adapted to relying on them. However, after reading more and listening to experts, I’ve come to realize that to hike the PCT, I need to get out of those orthotics for good. But that means I need to start at square one—strengthening and increasing the mobility of my feet.

Right now, I’m in narrow, full-stack Asics Kayanos with a 10mm heel drop. The goal? Transition to something like the Altra Olympus, which still has some stack height but is easier to adjust to. Eventually, I’d like to end up in the Lone Peaks, but baby steps, right? First, the feet.

Next on the list: mobility and flexibility. My physio is convinced that my knee pain (patella-femoral pain, if we’re being fancy) is due to the world’s tightest hamstrings and the tight quads that keep my kneecaps from tracking correctly. So yeah, that’s on the to-do list. On top of that, I need to build leg and glute strength. Right now, I sit at a desk all day doing nerd stuff, so my body isn’t exactly “conditioned to live in motion.” And since I’m a bit on the skinny side, I need to strengthen my back and shoulders to help carry my mobile home around for five months.

But here’s the real kicker: I’m from Australia. That means I’ve got the added fun of dealing with VISAs, which I think are only good for six months. Plus, I can’t just pop home when things get tough. No calling up friends nearby for a quick break or crashing with someone for a week. The prep just to get to the starting point is huge—I need to get this right.

And then there’s work and family. I’ll need to take six to eight months off work, which I’m fortunate enough to be able to do, but if I’m going to take that much time off, I need to make it count. I want to finish the trail in one piece. And, of course, I’ll be leaving behind my beautiful partner and our two dogs, my fur children. There’s a lot of planning involved to make sure everything is in a good place while I’m off gallivanting through national parks on the other side of the world.

So yeah, if I’m going to attempt the PCT, I need to give myself every chance of completing it successfully. By the time I start, I’ll be 45, and let’s face it, there are a few more challenges at 45 than at 22. But honestly, the journey is often better than the destination, and I’m on a five-year journey to prepare for the PCT. That’s pretty exciting to me. I feel like I’m training for the Olympics or something.