Currently spending some focused time getting “pack fit” — you know, the kind of fitness that allows one to haul extra weight for days on end through the wilderness, or in my more immediate case: up a mountain summit (this mountain summit actually, although I do have the “wilderness” aspect more than covered over New Year’s, too).
Life at the moment involves taking a full 25 litre ‘endurance’ pack and a few (*extra) 1.5 litre water bottles for a complimentary walkabout “wherever” — yesterday, up the dizzy heights of Rangituhi-Colonial Knob; next week: Te Kopahou Reserve.
Clearly none of this is particularly “technical”. No-no, if anything this is a spectacularly unrefined approach to pack fitness training, old-school and “Rocky”-like — ugly, and graceless, sans the blood, tears, and bruising.
There are other things in play, too — spin classes (I fucking love spinning), squats, and walks, and walks, and walks, not all of them necessarily ridiculously long or tedious…
And the end goal(?): to see and experience this thurr apex up-close, and to not suffer too seriously afterwards.
First things first though, eh.