Misogi: Hiking 50 Miles in One Day
Two years ago I read the book Comfort Crises by Michael Easter. In that book he discussed rucking and the concept of Misogi. Misogi originates from Shinto, the indigenous spiritual tradition of Japan. At its heart, misogi is a practice of cleansing, purifying the body, mind, and spirit to restore one’s connection with the deeper self. Historically, it involved ritual bathing in natural bodies of water, particularly waterfalls, rivers, or the sea. The act was not merely hygienic, it was spiritual. Today, misogi often involves intense physical challenges like swimming in freezing waters, enduring long runs, or undertaking difficult fasts all with the goal of pushing yourself a little too far. A Misogi is something that is so hard that it changes you. It’s not about performance; it’s about presence. There are two rules to Misogi. Make it hard and don’t die. After reading Comfort Crises I bought a GoRuck Pack and started doing some rucking. I looked for rucking challenges and came across the Teddy Roosevelt 50 mile challenge. Teddy Roosevelt believed every military man in America should have the ability to hike 50 miles in less than 24 hours. I saved the tab of that article on my laptop. As of 2025 that tab has been on my laptop for two years now. Earlier this year I told my friend Max that we should attempt to do the 50 mile challenge with the hope that it would be a misogi. Max and I are best friends because I can text him “We should attempt to hike 50 miles in 24hrs” and he will say yes and we will put it on the calendar and we will do it. That sort of friendship is rare. We put it on the calendar for April 12th and agreed we would do it on the Ozark Trail in Missouri as that is half way between us because we live 12 hours apart. We both trained for it the best we could. I personally did multiple half marathons in preparation for it and lots of 5 and 6 mile hikes. 10 days before the 50 mile attempt I did a marathon alone by myself on the Tecumseh trail in Indiana with the last 3 hours of that hike being in the dark.
When the day for 50 miles finally came we woke up in our tents at 3:30am and gathered our gear, took a starting picture, and headed out walking on the road at 4am. Walking on the road in the dark with just the sound of our shoes hitting the pavement, 50 miles seemed like a long journey ahead. As the sun began to come up and we were about 7 miles in we began to discuss the topic of knowing you are on a journey but not quite being in it yet. Your reflection of the journey is not in-line with the present moment. That presence will come at mile 31. The concept of this is hard to explain but I get it and Max gets it and that's all that matters. Some things can only be learned in a misogi. The first 16 miles of the hike were rocky and rough and that was unexpected. At the time, we complained. In reflection, it made a better story. Difficulty is synonymous with a good story but at the time when it hurts it's hard to remind yourself of that.
At mile 20 we hit our pain maximum. There is a point when your mind has filled with all the pain it can and you will not experience a greater level of pain. If you keep walking, it's not going to hurt worse but it's going to keep hurting. Pain doesn’t multiply, it only continues. There were many points in this journey that made the relation to pain an interesting interaction. Between miles 30 and 40 there was no difference between uphill and downhill. It all hurt the same. If you can learn to deal with that basal level of pain there is nothing you can not do. Also, if you can learn if you just keep walking you can get anywhere. This isn’t about hiking, this is about life and persistence and the ability to keep going when it's hard.
At the point of 44 miles when it started to feel pointless I learned something. This wasn’t supposed to be productive, this wasn’t supposed to have a point, and that’s the sort of act that is incredibly meaningful. The suffering is the point, not the outcome. It's impossible to not be present when every ounce of your energy is focused on surviving the next step.
There’s a moment in every test of endurance where the body screams to stop, the mind begs for comfort, and every fiber of your being tries to negotiate an exit. That moment, raw, exposed, and real is where misogi begins.
In a misogi, there’s no medal at the end. No external reward. No cheering squad. That’s intentional. The absence of a prize forces you to face why you're doing it. It’s a beautiful thing to finish an extreme challenge, look at each other and say we did it, and get in the car and drive to your campsite and go to sleep. No cheering, just completion.
This wasn’t about achieving something. This is about emptying. There was a point between 49 miles and 50 miles that Max and I were saying “Empty”. We wanted to finish empty. We wanted to feel a place where there was nothing left.
There’s a psychological clarity that emerges when the body is pushed to its edge. During extreme exertion, the layers of identity, anxiety, and distraction peel away. What’s left is focus, presence, and an undeniable truth: who you are when things are hard.
The moment that still gives me the most chills when I look back on the 50 mile journey is the moment when we hit 50 miles and I said to Max “There is nothing that we can not do.” We set out a challenge that we weren’t sure if we would be able to finish and we found out when everything is hurting, whenever our bodies have given up, and when asked the question “Can you keep going?” The answer is yes.
Mental toughness is not gained watching motivational videos on your couch. It's made at mile 44 when your feet are blistered and your body is done, and the voice in your head says “stop,” and you calmly say “not yet.”