8 Things I Wish I Knew Before I Started Rucking (Former Competitive Runner)
Hi. My name is Abby, and I’m a former runner turned rucker. I ran competitively for 8 years. Cross country meets, track workouts, long runs in the snow — I was in deep. After burning out from running and taking a much-needed hiatus, I discovered rucking.
And as a former runner, I thought rucking would be a walk in the park.
Spoiler: it was not. At least, not all the time.
There are so many things I wish I knew before I started rucking — from gear choices to mindset shifts to how much your traps will scream at you afterward — so here are 8 things I wish someone had told me before I started this whole thing.
1. Start Slow and Listen to Your Body
When I was a seasoned runner, movement felt second nature. I didn’t think about it — I just went. So naturally, when I started rucking, I figured it’d be similar. It’s cardio, I’m moving my legs, how different could it be?
Turns out, very different.
I’d done weighted walks before — ankle weights, heavy backpacks across my college campus. But rucking with actual weight, in a backpack designed for it, is an entirely different experience. It’s harder. Your posture matters more. Your stride changes. The load shifts.
Thankfully, when I started, I was a fresh college grad, still used to lugging around heavy textbooks and my laptop across campus — usually at a very fast pace because I was chronically late to class. So carrying weight wasn’t totally foreign. But rucking intentionally for cardio was a new kind of challenge.
What I learned: the body needs time to adapt. It’s okay to start small. It’s okay to go slow. Your joints, muscles, and brain all need time to catch up to this new movement pattern. Don’t overdo it — there’s no prize for rushing your progress.
2. You Will Be Sore. Don’t Freak Out.
One thing that genuinely surprised me after my first ruck was just how sore I was. I mean, I expected some leg fatigue — maybe a bit in my calves or glutes. But I was sore everywhere. My hamstrings. My shoulders. My traps. My core. I didn’t even know I had some of the muscles that started aching.
And wow — day two soreness hit like a truck.
At the time, I panicked a little. “Did I do something wrong? Am I injured? Did I break myself from… walking??” But no — I just activated a lot of stabilizer muscles that hadn’t been used that way before. Thankfully, I had a foam roller nearby to help recover from the unprecedented soreness.
Now, I see soreness as a good thing — a physical reminder of how hard I’ve worked. But I do wish I had known just how sore I’d be, so I wouldn’t have freaked out when my traps felt like they were trying to detach from my body.
3. It’s Not Like Running — Stop Focusing on Speed
This was a major mindset shift for me. As a runner, I was trained to focus on pace, splits, time, improvement. If I wasn’t running faster, what was the point?
With rucking, that mentality doesn’t serve you.
The intention isn’t to PR. It’s not about how quickly you can cover ground. Instead, it’s about intentional movement. Pay attention to your breath. What muscles are firing? Where do you feel a burn? How’s your posture?
You’ll get more out of rucking when you focus on form over speed. It’s okay — even encouraged — to go slow. Nobody’s timing you. And honestly, your body will benefit way more from controlled, strong steps than a rushed pace with sloppy form. Something that helps me slow it down is actually walking with my senior dog! He’s 16 years old and knows no speed but slow. So throwing on a ruck when taking him on a walk is the perfect practice for taking it slow when rucking.
4. Invest in Proper Gear
One of the biggest things I wish I knew? How important your gear is.
I figured my old running shoes would work just fine. Wrong. So wrong. I wish I had invested in a more supportive, durable shoe — maybe even a pair of hiking shoes — especially before attempting rucking in the mountains (more on that later).
And the backpack? Crucial. Most rucking backpacks on the market are very tactical looking — not really my speed. I didn’t want to look like I was prepping for military deployment while walking through my suburban neighborhood.
Thankfully, I found the Ruc Pack from Ruc Fit, and it was everything I needed. Sleek. Athletic. Not tactical. But more than that — it’s functional. It holds standard round weight plates making it easily scalable, has a central front zipper for easy access, includes a built-in sternum strap and hip belt, and distributes weight evenly across my back.
The Ruc Pack has hands down been the best investment I’ve made for rucking — both aesthetically and structurally. And that brings me to the next point…
5. Wear the Hip Belt
I assumed that since I used to carry a heavy backpack around campus without one, I’d be fine rucking without using a hip belt.
I was not.
My shoulders and upper back were destroyed after my first few rucks. Turns out, the hip belt is not optional. It helps transfer some of that weight from your shoulders to your hips and core — areas much better equipped to handle it.
Now, I don't even think about skipping the hip belt. It’s an instant game-changer for comfort, stability, and reducing strain on your traps and spine. If I could go back in time, I would beg past me: “PLEASE. Use. The. Hip. Belt.”
6. Engage Your Core (And Check In Often)
One subtle but powerful thing I’ve learned: rucking requires constant engagement of your core.
It’s easy to let your posture collapse or slouch forward under the weight. Especially if you’re tired, it’s tempting to let your lower back take over. Don’t let that happen.
Actively engage your core — brace your abs, stand tall, and keep your shoulders relaxed. Every few minutes, I like to check in with my form: Am I standing straight? Is my core tight? Am I leaning forward?
It’s a small shift that makes a huge difference in preventing lower back pain and improving your overall stability.
7. Don’t Be Upset if You Can’t Ruck 1/3 of Your Body Weight Yet
This one really got me. I read online that you should ruck with 1/3 of your body weight. So naturally, I thought, “Great! That’s the standard. I should do that.”
But what I neglected to realize is: that’s a goal, not a starting point. I loaded my pack way too heavy, way too soon, and could barely make it past the end of my driveway.
Rucking is hard — and your body isn’t used to carrying weight like that. It takes time to build up strength, endurance, and the muscular control to handle heavier loads safely.
So if you're starting with 10, 15, or 20 pounds — that’s perfect. You’re still getting stronger. I’m still not rucking 1/3 of my body weight, and that’s 100% okay. I’ve improved in other ways — my form, my endurance, my consistency. Those wins matter just as much.
8. Maybe Train on Hills Before You Try to Ruck in the Mountains
Ah yes… my first time rucking in the mountains.
I live in Illinois. It is FLAT. Capital-F flat. I’d trained exclusively on sidewalks, suburban paths, and the occasional hill. Then I went to Colorado and tried to ruck up a mountain (while also experiencing a moderate case of altitude sickness I tricked myself into thinking I could power through)
Please. I beg you: don’t do what I did.
Rucking uphill, at altitude, is a full-body, cardiovascular beatdown. The incline alone changes the whole movement. My legs were screaming. My lungs were screaming. My pride? Also screaming.
So if you live somewhere flat and you're planning to ruck in the mountains, train with inclines ahead of time. Treadmills, garage ramps, staircases — whatever you can find. Prepare your legs. Prepare your lungs. Future you will be grateful.
Final Thoughts: Rucking Is Humbling — And That’s a Good Thing
Rucking has been one of the most humbling, rewarding fitness experiences I’ve had.
It slowed me down — in the best way. It helped me build functional strength, get outside, reconnect with movement, and fall in love with a new form of cardio that doesn’t feel like punishment.
If you're thinking about trying it, or just getting started: give yourself grace. You don’t have to ruck fast. You don’t have to go heavy. You don’t have to be perfect.
Just show up. Keep showing up. And remember — strength doesn’t always look like a PR. Sometimes, it looks like putting one foot in front of the other, again and again.
Whether you’re a burned-out runner, a curious beginner, or somewhere in between — welcome to the rucking crew. You’re stronger than you think.