The Uncertain Launch of an Impossible Goal

We can all relate to some version of this story -- I've just selected a new project and I'm positively brimming with excitement. It's a stretch goal, with the right timing, it's competitive and I'm over the moon about the course. I'm feeling eager to get this party rolling! However, as clearly as I see my target, the path to that target is completely smazy. I ultimately have no idea where to start. I feel certain that once I get my hands on some sense of direction, then I can build a little momentum and before you know it, I will be checking off boxes and stacking the bricks of my Tower of Triumph.

When I asked Herman about the big, shiny goal that he picked -- The Impossible Goal: The Human Powered Iditarod that begins on Feb 25th -- I heard about the systems he's developed, the training that he and Mike, his coach, built together, and two years of Winter racing experience. However, I was most curious about the very first step. Certainly Google//AI have not advanced to the point that they will generate a step-by-step guide to "run 1,000 miles across Alaska unsupported in February 2026?" (I did search the internet, and it doesn't exist... yet)

The Process

Herman reports that he started by scheduling the big goal, the Iditarod 1,000 for 2026 (five years out), then created an itinerary by working backwards. For the years and months inbetween he set: intermediate goals (ex. Arrowhead 135 in 2023, the Iditarod 350 in 2024, etc.) and short term goals (overnight run with gear, add insulation to racing sled, etc.) in each of the following categories:

- running/fitness/strength

- technical/gear

- winter/wilderness/survival skills

He then perpetually modified the itinerary using personal experience in a series of trial and error experiments, was intentionally *very* selective in advice seeking, and built space for the unexpected into the schedule.

Learning on Lessons Learned (the hard way) 

Start with what you already know. For Herman, growing up in Bozeman, Montana provided an innate knowledge of winter. Skiing, Mountaineering, and generally finding his way around a mountain town as a rambunctious child provided plenty of learning opportunities. Other applicable life experiences include: rock climbing (having achieved a 5.14 rating), being a scholastic athlete (wrestling and running), and spending time on the rave/party scene (sleep deprivation). His message is to honor your innate knowledge and a beginner's mind set. Herman remarked, "you're in a special place when you don't know what you are doing to come up with something innovative." Perhaps the first step is actually the first thing that comes to mind? Herman started with the running shoes he already owned and spent hours moving through the mountain and snow in his backyard. In this way he learned that running shoes work best for him rather than a boot, how to layer waterproof and breathable clothing in any number of conditions, and how to run the tube from your water bladder under your jacket to keep it from freezing. Although sometimes you get frostbite and the gaitors you built fail immediately, AND sometimes you have a kit that's 15 lbs lighter than your competitors -- which is ultimately a huge advantage. 

Block out the Noise

One thing Herman didn't do was start by extensively interviewing others and asking for advice. He selected a handful of people that had extensive resumes specific to this niche -- including Coach Mike Wolfe (former Professional Northface UltraRunner), Tim Hewitt (Iditarod 1,000 course record holder who completed the distance 13 times) and Andrew Skurka (Professional Backpacker who was first to complete the Great Western Loop and the Sea-to Sea Route) -- that was the list. Herman acknowledges that "there are plenty of people with experience, however, I simply don't care what most people think and don't want to talk about it." Don't take it personally. It's as simple as this: negative messaging, doubt and fear are contagious and it can be dangerous to accept even "good advice," if it doesn't work for you. Indecision and second guessing can get you off track. In this setting the right decision is the one that is best for you, and it doesn't matter how anyone feels about it. Turns out confidence is a survival skill, and boundaries like this are a matter of self-preservation.

Build Learning [Failure] into the Plan

When I asked Herman what it feels like to show up to your first Winter Ultra and see other competitor's sleds for the first time, Herman described it as "Equal parts overly confident and under prepared." The roster of his first race (Fat Pursuit) featured two Iditarod champions packing plenty of experience. Yet Herman reports, "Feeling like I'm going to clean their clocks and that I don't know what I'm doing [at the same time.]" He understandably describes it as "a weird feeling." Ultimately there was space in Herman's five year plan to 1.) try things his way, 2.) for him to be right, wrong, and even a combination of both, 3.) to change his mind and try again. He was open to the possibility that it would require multiple attempts to even complete the event, and also the possibility that he would set a course record and win over all on his first try. He states, "Perhaps it was hubris, but someone has to win, why not me? But also, why am I doing this? Is it to win?" Having an experience with not only spaciousness for, but actually the whole point being, to ask questions like "why am I even doing this?" and 'what is the purpose of suffering?" has provided unmatched opportunities to try and learn in big ways.

The First Step, First

The first step, Herman feels, is swinging the pendulum of experience to the far end of personal experience, away from your council and audience. Self-discovery first, by reflecting on the person you already are and the experiences you already hold. It is of the upmost importance to set boundaries to protect your personal development and build a base of knowledge that is all your own. On the other end of the experience is collaborating with the other's experiences, and access to the pool of humanity's knowledge, which no single person can gather. Herman states that "When I have enough experience, then I'll go back to the neutral position." At neutral you shift weight to the experience of "us" and also to your own version of things, self-knowledge. You can't take that second step however, until you've mastered the first step of self-adventure.