I’m an advocate of trekking poles, but it didn’t come easy. The stigma of my most dreaded high school and college dryland cross-country ski training sessions, bounding up hills left a distaste for poles anytime I wasn’t on skis.
It didn’t help that in May 2022, I tried running with poles on a whim. I was completing one of my longest workouts in preparation for a 100-miler the following month with a brick workout: I rollerskied to a trailhead, ditched my rollerski equipment in the woods (my Superman equivalent of a phone booth), and donned my running shoes. During this transition, I came up with the harebrained idea to keep my rollerski poles for the run.
It was awful.
Although my poles were a tad short for classic rollerskiing, they were still several centimeters too long to use as effective trekking poles. (The proper trekking pole length should be such that your elbow is at a 90-degree angle when planting on flat ground.) It’s funny how the weight of these older poles never phased me while rollerskiing; now that I was running with them, they felt like lead weights.
Despite the familiarity of using poles through skiing, I still resisted. The nail in the no-trekking-poles coffin came when the only racer who did not use poles in the 2022 Barkley Marathon told me that everyone uses poles at Barkley, and Barkley was my sole focus for 2023. It took months before I hit a turning point where poles were no longer a hindrance. Admittedly, it would take many more sessions before I didn’t feel like an octopus. By Barkley, the poles became extensions of my arms and it never crossed my mind once to stow my poles.
Over nearly a week on the Superior Hiking Trail, I only collapsed my poles for a handful of the 310 miles so I could spoon my cold-soaked freeze-dried meal out of the bag while on the move. About halfway through, I had an epiphany: If I didn’t have these poles, it would be unlikely I would have made it that far lugging all my gear and food for the unsupported effort. Not only did I finish, but because I had used those poles, I was able to recover and don a race bib just 10 days after completing 310 miles on the SHT.
Stability, reducing muscle fatigue by engaging alternative muscles, and reducing the load. These benefits of using poles are accentuated when carrying a heavy pack. Not only does a heavy pack increase the load on our joints and muscles, but it also raises our center of gravity. Trekking poles reduce the load while stabilizing our footing on all sorts of terrain, enabling me to feel more confident during my descents, especially with my history of ankle sprains. During the winter months, trekking poles have saved me from countless slips on snow and ice.
With water crossings, not only do trekking poles increase stability, but they also allow me to test my footing. I can gauge water depth, type of surface (muck vs. slippery rocks), and angle of the footing when I can’t visually assess.
Despite the plethora of information on the Internet, I was surprised by the scant instruction on technique. I’m also surprised by the number of people who use poles in a race with little to no training, not heeding the advice to never do anything new on race day.
When single-sticking, one pole should plant as your opposite foot strikes the ground, similar to how our arms swing naturally while walking. However, when going up very steep hills, plant both poles every third time your foot hits the ground for extra power. In either technique, the pole angle should be slightly forward to propel you along the trail on uphills and flats.
If you’re new to using poles, you may discover you’re a bit sore after early sessions as you recruit your upper body. Unlike skiing, there’s no glide phase, so for efficiency, I use the poles to naturally propel me uphill while hiking or running rather than collapsing on my pole.
While descending, I use whatever feels comfortable and most efficient, sometimes using the poles to reduce my speed rather than relying on my quads (in which case the poles should be angled backward). Sometimes this means running without using my poles, but often I strategically place my poles to distribute my weight. So, on technical descents, this usually means single-sticking on corners. During jarring descents, I usually plant both poles simultaneously to reduce the stress on my body. During fast descents, I take my hands out of the loops so my arm isn’t wrenched and injured if my pole gets snagged, whereas some hikers may prefer to place their palms on the top of the poles. Some hikers also prefer adjustable poles to lengthen the poles for descents and shorten them for accents.
I initially balked at the dainty-looking trekking pole straps compared to my cross-country ski poles. Aside from Leki, most trekking pole brands use a simple looped strap. However, I discovered that I was able to use the simple pole loop without gloves for days without developing a blister, and the minimalist design also was effective, saved weight, and cooler for my hands in the summer.
Regardless of the pole straps’ sophistication, I try not to have a constant grip on my poles as I learned from skiing. Just as I teach first-time skiers to loop each hand up through the loop before taking hold of the pole shaft, I tighten the strap length to enable releasing the poles between plants to save energy.
Perhaps the best advice I received about trekking poles was to consider aluminum over carbon. Although carbon provided the lightest possible pole, I determined that carrying a broken pole wouldn’t help no matter how light it was. I’m anything but graceful, as countless scratches on me and my Black Diamond Distance Z poles will verify. But my aluminum poles have been bomb-proof. Every time a pole tip jams into a crevice, tangles with a gnarled root, or slides off a slick rock, I’m thankful that I had an aluminum shaft that could withstand 360 degrees of force at unpredictable times. My experience with my carbon ski poles demonstrated that they often snap under those types of forces.
In 2010, I scoffed at the use of trekking poles on the 3,000-foot ascent and descent over Hope Pass at the Leadville 100. Going forward, when I return to vie for the top of the podium, I will gladly use trekking poles, which I hope is the silver bullet to save my quads that disastrously shattered my goal to top the podium in 2011.
Even if you are a trekking-pole skeptic as I once was, I encourage you to consider them. And if you’re stubborn like me, it may take a while for them to grow on you. But whether you’re a backpacker, casual hiker, or trail runner, you’ll eventually find them as essential as your footwear. I guarantee you that trekking poles will save you from a digger while reducing the stress on your body so you can continue to enjoy the outdoors all four seasons for many years to come!
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