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Tahoe Rim Trail 2026  ·  Field Notes
Health & Fuel on a Long Trip

Weight Loss Is a City Concern

13 days · ~64,300 calories burned · 13 pounds lost

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I came home from thirteen days on the Tahoe Rim Trail thirteen pounds lighter. That sounds like the headline. It isn't. It's the least interesting fact about those thirteen days, and if you plan a long trip around that number, you're going to get yourself in trouble.

My watch recorded the energy each day took to move a loaded pack up and over the rim of Lake Tahoe.

Calories burned per day, Tahoe Rim Trail, July 7–19, 2026.
DateCalories burned
Jul 75,919
Jul 84,716
Jul 96,921
Jul 104,542
Jul 114,642
Jul 123,857
Jul 133,383
Jul 144,281
Jul 155,713
Jul 166,367
Jul 178,349
Jul 183,568
Jul 192,066
Total64,324
~4,950
calories burned per day, on average
8,349
peak day, one brutal climb north of Desolation
~1,600
calories I actually ate per day

That's an average of nearly 5,000 calories a day for thirteen days, with my body doing the work of running most of a marathon every single day, with a pack on.

Against that burn, I ate almost nothing. Early on I settled into a rhythm and never broke the pattern. Breakfast ran a 500-calorie meal, lunch ran about 500 more grazed across the whole afternoon out of a Sweetwood "Fatty" meat stick (180 calories and 13 grams of protein), a Clif bar, trail mix, and Solely mango fruit strips at 80 calories each, and dinner at camp was a freeze-dried meal of 500 to 800 calories. Call the total 1,600 calories a day, and I was being generous with myself.

Do the math and the thirteen pounds stop being an accomplishment and start being a warning. I was running a deficit of roughly 3,300 calories a day, which came to about 43,000 calories over the trip. At 3,500 calories to a pound, that predicts a little over twelve pounds of loss. The scale said thirteen. The body doesn't round in your favor.

The reframe A calorie is not the same currency in both places

In the city, a calorie is something you cut. It's the enemy of the number on the scale, the figure you negotiate down. Weight loss is a discipline problem, a willpower problem, a problem of doing less.

In the backcountry, a calorie is fuel for work you have already committed to doing. It's the warmth that gets you through a cold night at 8,500 feet. It's the difference between a good decision and a stupid one at 4 p.m. on an exposed ridge with weather building. It's whether your legs answer when the last climb of the day asks a question. Out there, under-eating isn't discipline. It's a liability you're carrying right alongside the pack.

In the city a calorie is something to cut. In the backcountry a calorie is warmth, altitude, and a good decision at 4 p.m. on an exposed ridge. Under-fueling out there is a liability rather than discipline.

I got away with a 3,300-calorie daily deficit for one reason, which is that I came in fit and the deficit was temporary. Thirteen days is short enough that a healthy body will spend its reserves and forgive you. Stretch that same deficit across a three-week or a two-month trip and the shortfall stops being weight loss and becomes breakdown, with muscle burned for fuel, a body that can't stay warm, and the slow fog of chronic under-fueling that thru-hikers know as "hiker hunger" for a reason. The mountains don't care that you were disciplined. They just take what you didn't bring.

The lesson Prepare for the burn, not the scale

The lesson I took home was to plan your food the way you plan your water and your miles, as a hard number the trip demands rather than a target you're trying to beat.

Recovery The other half of fuel is sleep

There's a second number I left out of that table, and I should have included it, which is hours slept. Food is only half of recovery. The other half happens with your eyes closed, and I got a lesson in that half on my biggest day of the whole trip.

I walked 22 miles that day, climbed into the tent wrecked, and got a full nine hours. At 2 a.m. I woke up with everything on fire, every muscle in my legs and my feet and my shoulders lit up at once, the body sending the bill for the miles I'd spent. I drank some water, told myself that fire was the repair happening, and went back to sleep. By morning the fire was out. I got up ready to climb mountains again, and I did.

That was physiology rather than toughness. Deep sleep is when the body actually rebuilds the muscle you spent, restocks the glycogen a big meal only refilled the tank for, and resets the systems that make good decisions. Skimp on sleep and no amount of trail mix saves the next day, because you'll be slower, colder, clumsier, and worse at judging risk, which is the part that gets people hurt. So on a long trip, protect sleep the way you protect water and calories. Carry a sleeping pad that actually insulates, take an earlier camp when you can afford one, and hold the discipline to lie down and stay down when your body is screaming for rest. The mountains give the day back to you overnight, but only if you let them.

I lost the weight because the trail demanded more than I chose to carry, and strong will had nothing to do with the result. A deficit you choose is a fine outcome, and a deficit that surprises you is a dangerous one. Plan the calories, carry the fuel, sleep hard, and let the deficit be something you decided on at the kitchen table rather than something the mountains decide for you at mile one hundred and fourteen.

Plan the fuel, not just the route

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