Over the course of my time as a dirtbag, I’ve come up with a sort of personal code. For years, it’s lived rent free in my head. but I’ve never taken the time to sit down, contemplate it, write it out, and make it something tangible.

It’s not all-encompassing, but I think it is pretty comprehensive.

I’m guilty of not always knowing how to follow my own rules, so don’t take these as absolutes, by any means. I just think having a set of guidelines allows me to stay focused; I believe they’ve helped me along my journey in being a good human - which is what I think all of us (or at least most of us) truly want.  

So here it is:

Take what you like, leave what you don’t, add what you need.

 

1.     Don’t Die.

This is self-explanatory; you can’t continue to race, explore, or adventure…or you know…live…if you die.

Avoid dying at all costs.

2.     Always Look Cool.

And no, I don’t mean embrace fast-fashion or wear the hottest new streetwear for your summit bid. Don’t chase style; the newest tech and flashiest running shoes are tools in your pursuit, and they should be used as such. However. Our mentality is literally hardwired to our physical performance. If you look fast, you feel fast. If you feel fast, you are fast. But beyond this, I’ve learned that if you look cool and collected (as in, like a cucumber) – you play a harmless trick on your mind and extreme arduous effort feels easier.

Plus, those mirrored extra wide sunnies and neon 2” split shorts really tie the room together, man.

3.     Safety Third.

The mountain will kill you and won’t even feel bad about it. Same goes for the desert. Or the forest. Or the ocean. Or I-295. Pretty much anywhere you’re exposed to any level of wilderness, this holds true. Pay your dues and spend the time and effort to learn how to help yourself out of danger. Expect to self-rescue because hope is not a plan. This isn’t a call to building an underground bunker stuffed with canned peaches in case of nuclear holocaust or a zombie outbreak, but investing in some basic survival and first aid training could save your life out on the trail (see Commandment 1).

Basic map reading skills (to know where you are and where you should be going), knowing how to find water, carrying a few extra calories, and learning how to lance and wrap blisters, control bleeding, and how to avoid hyper/hypothermia is a good start.

4.     Less is More.

You don’t need much to get out the door, onto the trail, and into the dirt. A pair of shoes and the clothes on your back will work in a pinch. You can even forgo the shoes if you’re careful about it. And if you’re far enough into the backcountry (and are bold enough)…you can ditch the clothes too.

There are certainly some things that will make your adventures easier, faster, or more fun, but you’ll find that the more you know the less you need. This takes time, effort, and experience, but eventually, you can shed more and more of your “stuff” and carry only essential “gear” – the stuff that really adds value to your pursuits.

Travel Light – Travel Fast – Travel Far

5.     Endure. It All.

Now including rollover minutes! Everything is transferrable; everything you do in an outdoor adventure is a microcosm unto itself, really. It’s a whole life of experience, compressed into the distance and duration of a trail. I know I’m not the only one who’s ever said this, but it’s worth repeating.

Don’t stop the adventure simply because you’re having a bad experience. I like to use the Emergency Room rule as a litmus test: Life, Limb, or Eyesight – otherwise, keep going.

And remember to pack out the truths you uncover through the hardships out there on the trail. Bring them with you – they will serve you in ways you least expect.

6.     Practice Gratitude.

Training, racing, and adventure is profoundly and fundamentally a selfish pursuit. You may find benefits from it – it may even bring out the very best in you, allowing you to show up better for others later. But at the end of the day, the pursuit itself is selfish. You spend countless long hours putting in the work prepping and training and racing and chasing after lofty summits. That time away is your time, and it’s beautiful. But because it’s your time, it cannot be used in service of someone or something else. And more often than not, there is someone who is actively helping you succeed (Ahem…Always say thank you to the aid station volunteers!).

Practice being grateful, loving, and kind to those who support you on your journey…even your competition. Their grace and love and support allow you to be selfish. They deserve to be respected and honored for their commitment.

7.     Participate in your Tribe.

It’s easy to forget just how much work goes into keeping the vast wilderness open for recreation. It’s often done behind the scenes in garages and basements full of big plastic totes (and all the excel spreadsheets) leading up to big race logistics movements. Or in the dedication of a full weekend crewing an aid station. Or on weekends with power tools and a bagged lunch to keep the trail clear and that bridge standing. Or in local community meetings, vying for, protecting, and securing the public access to the trails we hold so dear in our pursuits (otherwise, they’d all become parking lots and shopping centers).

Find a way to give back and contribute to these works and the people who do them. Volunteer your time, sweat, attention, and service. It’s the only way we can keep these places wild and free.

(But also, pay your trailhead fees. They’re important and are usually no more than a bougie cup of coffee).

8.     Care for the Earth Mother.

Despite what our modern ethos and egos may tell us, we are not disconnected from nature. We are not somehow separate from or higher than it. Our organization of “civilized” culture and complex machinations of society are just an extension of the evolution of the natural world. It’s evident in other species as much as our own. We are one with and an integral part of our wild environment.

This world is our home, do your best to take care of it. It’s the only one we’ve got. 

9.     Surender.

To the pain. To the beauty. To the awe. To the process. To the community. To the weather (yes, even the damn rain). You can’t fight these things.

The only way is through.

10.  Seriouslessness.

The pursuits of a dirtbag are often functionally futile. You spend a lot of time, calories, water, and some money to run a trail and across a finish line, or climb to the pointy part of a really tall rock, or to float down a river, or to just walk to a flat spot and practice being homeless.

These pursuits require attention, care, skill, and mastery, especially if you want to achieve “greatness” (whatever that looks like). But your survival, the survival of your family, the survival of the species, or the survival of the planet isn’t dependent on them. Time will continue to be a flat circle even if we never once set foot on another trail again.

You are a “Conquistador of the Useless” (Lionel Terray, 1963). 

Don’t take yourself so seriously.

 

*****

Want to hear the best trail joke I’ve heard to date? I’m gonna tell you anyway –

PCT Hiker: “What’s the difference between a through hiker and a homeless person?
JMT Hiker: “I don’t know, what?”
PCT Hiker: “Gore-TEX”

*****

 

Did I forget any? We aren’t limited to only 10 rules, you know…

Let me know what your personal code (or your favorite trail joke) is in the comments below.

 

-Dirtbag.