Let me tell you about one of the most ridiculous things we do as a family for “fun”: RUCKING.
If you’ve never heard of it, rucking is basically walking with weight on your back. You throw a few extra pounds in a backpack (aka a ruck), strap it on, and then.. you just walk. For miles. Uphill. In the sun. Usually in the dark. Sometimes with kids asking how much farther.
It sounds simple, and it is, but it’s also brutal in the best way.
Urban Rucking: A Special Kind of Torture
We’ve done a few urban rucks, and let me just say: never again (okay, maybe one more time.. but I’ll complain the whole way and still experience PTSD).
The pavement is merciless. There’s something soul-crushing about trudging 10+ miles through city sidewalks while your feet absorb every ounce of impact. Sometimes there’s no breeze, no trees, but always long stretches of concrete and curious strangers wondering why we look like we’re prepping for a zombie apocalypse.
Urban rucking is where dreams go to die. You don’t get the beauty of nature, just the dull ache of your arches and the occasional fast-food smell wafting by to mock your suffering.
Trail Rucking: Still Painful, But Pretty
Now trail rucking, that’s where the magic happens. Same suffering, different setting. Dirt is way easier on your joints, and there’s something therapeutic about walking through nature, watching the sun sneak through the trees, and pretending you’re on a National Geographic expedition. The bugs are annoying. The uphill climbs make you question your choices. The descents make your knees scream. But it’s beautiful, and somehow that makes it hurt less.
Plus, you feel like a beast when you finish. Like “I just carried xx (insert #) pounds for 12 miles and didn’t die” kind of beast.
That One Time We Rucked 22 Miles
Our longest ruck so far? Twenty-two. Fucking. Miles.
It started out ambitious, “Let’s challenge ourselves!”, and ended in full body soreness, collective delirium, a whole lotta groaning, a shitload of cuss words and a group decision that we were never doing that again. (Spoiler: we probably will.)
At a certain point, somewhere around mile 15, we all started questioning our life choices. Why the fuck are we doing this? Who the fuck signed us up (Kevin, like always)? Why didn’t we just go the movies or go hang somewhere like normal people?
But here’s the thing: by the next day, we were laughing about it, proud of what we did, and somehow already talking about doing it again (all while walking like we have immobile joints). It’s like we’re gluttons for self-punishment, and we’re oddly okay with that.
Why We Keep Coming Back for More
We ruck because it’s hard.
We ruck because it pushes us.
We ruck because it builds something in us that gyms, apps and perfect WOD routines just don’t.
There’s something powerful about moving forward, one heavy step at a time, especially when every part of you wants to quit. And doing it together? That’s the part that keeps us going. It’s weird. It’s painful. It’s oddly bonding. And it’s become one of our favorite forms of controlled chaos.
Thinking About Trying It?
Start small. Like a backpack with a few books and a short loop. Wear good shoes. Bring snacks. Laugh a lot. And maybe don’t start with 22 miles.. unless you also enjoy limping the next day and eating an entire pizza to yourself. And always come PREPARED, I can’t stress that enough.
Until the next mile- keep moving, keep sweating, and keep laughing at the madness. Because this is Mai Household Mayhem.. and of course we ruck for fun.
Mai Household Mayhem 