There’s nothing glamorous about dragging a broken sled through waist-deep snow at 9,000 feet.

Your heart’s pounding. Your legs are screaming. And that pack on your back feels heavier with every step.

But moments like that are the reason I train the way I do.

You can talk about being ready for anything—but when the ride goes sideways and you're ten miles from the truck?

That’s when it shows.

Not in your riding clips. Not in your Instagram posts.

In the grind.

That’s why I don’t skip sled pulls, stair sprints, heavy carries, or days in the gym.

Because out here, your strength is your safety net.

And your endurance could mean the difference between making it back or being the guy someone else has to haul out.

People see the content, the sponsors, the gear drops.

What they don’t see is the sweat equity behind it.

I don’t train for aesthetics. I train for utility.

For leadership. For longevity. For the rider next to me who needs to know I can handle whatever the mountain throws at us.

If you want to ride hard, ride far, and ride long—you better put in the work before the snow flies.

You don’t get to skip the sled pulls.