Elevation Training for Hiking: How to Get Trail-Ready Without Living in the Mountains

Elevation training for hiking involves two things: your aerobic engine and your acclimation plan. Learn how to train climbs without mountains, avoid common altitude mistakes, and show up ready.

This is Demand 3 in our series:

If you missed the previous demand, jump back to balance and reaction time on uneven terrain so you don’t skip an important part of the formula.

Now we go higher.

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I almost passed out somewhere between Long Gulch and Kenosha Pass on the Colorado Trail.

Not in a dramatic way like you’re probably thinking. It was far more boring than that; I was hot, tired, and dehydrated. I hadn’t eaten much that day either — my appetite had wandered off-trail days ago — but I knew I needed to try, even if it was going to make me sick.

I stepped off trail, opened my Ursack, and stared at each ration of beef jerky and granola like it was secretly against me. I grabbed a few handfuls of trail mix and carried on, knowing deep down it wouldn’t be enough to keep me fueled through the next big stretch.

I checked FarOut comments as I walked to see where the next water resupply point would be. I had been on trail for about eight days, and my brain and body were starting to truly understand the disconnect that happens when mental and physical fatigue team up. Ugly patterns started to rise: my right foot was protesting each step, my mood was in the dumps, and my critical thinking capacity was beginning to fade like Tinkerbell.

Then I stumbled upon Smurf, a trail angel and camp host located nearby at Kenosha Campground. The comments on FarOut detailed an actual real-life oasis embedded into his campsite (#1), with cold Diet Coke, snacks, hammocks, and potable water. Suddenly I was on a different mission, with a new objective layered into my larger goal of making miles: find Smurf.

Minutes after I arrived, I sat down and got to work: electrolytes, food, water, sunscreen, chapstick, quick gear check. I also wrapped my foot carefully and elevated it on a wooden stump so any inflammation or swelling could start to recede. No trace of Smurf, but the signs he’d posted around the campsite communicated the lay of the land and ground rules — this was a space for thru-hikers, created and maintained by a thru-hiker (Smurf rules, and I hope you get a chance to meet him when you go).

I stayed there about an hour and a half and still made 17 miles that day.

That long stop was paramount to the success of my day, and it taught me the lesson most “fitness for hiking” plans avoid:

Elevation training for hiking is not as simple as adding stair steppers or day hikes with solid elevation gain. It’s two problems stacked on top of each other.

1. Your aerobic engine + climbing mechanics (what you can train)

2. Acclimation (what you can plan for, but not “workout” your way through)

The failure mode: you redline, then blame the mountain

On paper, elevation training looks like “more cardio.”

On trail, it’s more like this:

• Your pace slows, even though you’re trying.

• Your breathing gets weird.

• Your appetite drops, then you fall behind on calories, then everything gets worse.

• Your mood goes feral.

• You forget the basics (electrolytes, sunscreen, steady fueling) because your brain is spending extra energy just existing.

On that Kenosha day, I topped out around 11,797 ft. What hit me was not “altitude” by itself. It was the combo: heat exposure, dehydration, under-fueling, and mental fatigue, all amplified by elevation.

If you only remember one thing, remember this: altitude punishes sloppy systems. If your routines are fragile at home, they will not magically improve at 11,000 feet.

Acclimation is a plan, not a workout

Acclimation means your body adjusts to lower oxygen availability at higher elevation over time. It is not something you can reliably brute-force in training.

You can improve your aerobic capacity. You can get stronger. You can hike steep inclines with a pack until your glutes file a formal complaint.

But if you go from low elevation to sleeping high and moving hard immediately, you can still get wrecked. That’s why acclimation planning matters, especially once you’re sleeping high and stacking long days.

If you want a cleaner breakdown of altitude illness, red flags, and when to stop ascending, I wrote it out here:

The myths that get people hurt

Myth 1: If I’m fit, I’m immune

Nope. Aerobic fitness is helpful, but it does not grant altitude immunity. You can have a big engine and still get altitude illness, headaches, nausea, dizziness, or sleep disruption.

Myth 2: Stairs = elevation training

Stairs can be a useful strength and muscular endurance tool. They are not a substitute for acclimation, and they do not replicate the oxygen reality of high elevation. If you want stairs, use them for what they are: mechanical work under load.

Bonus myth, since it’s everywhere:

• Training masks are not magic; at best, they are respiratory muscle training and not a viable replacement for actual acclimation.

The actual elevation training rules

This is where a lot of hikers waste energy. They either:

• obsess over gear and ignore their aerobic base, or

• obsess over workouts and ignore acclimation planning, or

• do both, then “just send it,” and act shocked when the mountain collects.

Don’t be that hiker.

What to do if you don’t live in the mountains

Your job is to build an engine and train the movement pattern, then show up early enough to acclimate like an adult.

1) Train your aerobic capacity like it actually matters

Elevation makes every inefficiency more expensive. You want a bigger aerobic engine so you can hike at a lower percentage of your max output.

That usually looks like:

• consistent Zone 2 work (boring, effective)

• some higher-intensity work if your timeline is tight

• hiking-specific time on feet with incline when you can get it

If you’re trying to train for a thru-hike, do not skip this. It’s the base.

2) Incline hiking with a pack is your best low-elevation substitute

If you don’t live near mountains, your best “close enough” option is a treadmill incline hike with a pack.

The goal is repeated exposure to:

• long-duration climbing mechanics

• steady breathing under load

• foot turnover on a grade

• pacing discipline

Pack weight progression: use a percentage of your expected trail pack weight.
Start light enough that you can maintain smooth movement and finish sessions without your form turning into interpretive dance. Build toward your target load gradually as your timeline allows.

3) Stairs are useful, but limited

Stairs help leg endurance and mental tolerance. They also tend to invite people to go too hard, too fast, and then call it “training.”

Use them, but know what they are: a tool, not a mountain.

4) The real cheat code: arrive early

Your job in the first week at elevation is not to prove you are tough. It’s to get adapted while staying uninjured and functional.

I live a measly 48’ above sea level, so I was understandably anxious about the Colorado Trail’s elevation. Segments of the CT are regularly above 10,000 feet, topping out over 13,000. I built my plan around arriving early, spending time in Denver, moving around without my pack, eating like it was my job, and staying hydrated.

I should also note that I avoided smoking and drinking alcohol completely; I do this anyway, but I’ll mention it because Colorado is full of endless opportunities to do both, and you would essentially be shooting yourself in the foot by partaking while acclimating.

Then I started Segment 1 from Waterton Canyon and let the first week be what it was: hard, but survivable, because I gave myself margin.

If you are stacking big climbs, big mileage, and big elevation changes too early, you are gambling.

A simple rules-based elevation progression

This is not a full plan. It’s your reality filter.

• If you’re sleeping around 11,000 ft or higher, treat acclimation as a serious variable, not background noise.

• If you’re coming from low elevation, assume you might feel it earlier (8,000–10,000 ft) and adjust before it becomes a problem.

• If symptoms show up, don’t add intensity to the day just because your itinerary says you “should.”

If you want the more detailed altitude-illness breakdown (and the “when to stop ascending” red flags), I put it in the deeper acclimation post here.

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Bottom line

Elevation training for hiking is:

• building an engine that holds steady under load

• training the uphill pattern as specifically as you can

• and giving yourself enough time to acclimate so you don’t spend Week 1 troubleshooting your body like a broken headlamp

If you feel overwhelmed by this, take that as useful information. Overwhelm usually means you are missing either structure, time, or both.

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Next in the series: pack weight and load carriage

Elevation is only one demand. Add pack weight, and the entire game changes.

If you can’t translate this into a weekly structure, you don’t need more grit; you need a plan. Tell me where you’re training from: sea level, rolling hills, or mountains?

Next up: Load Carriage, Pack Weight, and Ruck Capacity.

You can find me elsewhere (Tiktok, Instagram) at @freda.heights. If you’d like to support the TTF journey, you can do so here. If you are planning on hiking the Colorado Trail this year, click the discount button below to claim our limited-time offer and receive full access to exclusive CT guides, & resources.

As always, go with love!

— Freda