The Mountain Doesn’t Care

Trail Running and the Idea of "Conquering"

Trail running and the notion of "beating" or "defeating" something simply don’t go together in my mind. Even phrases like "conquering a mountain", "dominating a downhill", or "defying the weather" make me inwardly roll my eyes.

Fighting Nature? – A Battle You’ll Lose

The concept of "fighting" against the forces of nature — here embodied by the mountain — is, to me, utterly absurd. And even if one were to view it as a battle, it would be laughably one-sided. We are tiny, insignificant, fleeting beings standing in the shadow of an overwhelming force.

At best, any form of mountain sport can be described as "working with what Mother Earth gives us." But ultimately, the mountain doesn’t care.

(Photo by Nils Laengner)

Ego on the Trails

To me, these phrases reflect self-aggrandisement and egotistical posturing. This kind of macho-like braggadocio seems to permeate many areas of our society, and it rarely brings anything positive.

The "No Pain, No Gain" attitude — the idea of being stronger than the mountain — feels misplaced. What's completely missing is respect for the forces at play.

Lessons in Vulnerability

If the mountain doesn’t want you to cross it, no expensive rain jacket, no ultra-modern trail running shoes with super grip, no poles, and no advanced GPS watch will help. Anyone who’s ever been truly at the mercy of these forces —whether facing sudden weather changes, falling rocks, avalanches, storms, lightning, cold snaps, encounters with wildlife, or being lost in a dark forest without a headlamp — knows just how small and vulnerable we are.

(Photo by Nils Laengner)

Ask, Don’t Demand

If we still choose to venture into the mountains, we should do so with reverence, as if humbly asking for permission rather than demanding access. We must meet the mountain with respect and accept when it does not allow us to pass without harm. Ultimately, it’s not up to us.

The Power of Humility

The word that comes to my mind again and again when I think about trail and ultrarunning is humility.

"Only the penitent (wo)man will pass." — Indiana Jones

Humility before the mountain’s immense power. Humility before the superior forces we expose ourselves to. Humility before the unpredictability of the weather. Humility before the unknown challenges of the terrain. Humility before the altitude and the vast distance. Humility before the darkness and the cold. And humility before the animals and the spirits that call these spaces their home.

(Photo by Nils Laengner)

An Offer, Not a Right

Our strength, knowledge, experience, and courage are finite. The mountain is not.

And yet, I see the mountain as an invitation. A gracious welcome extended to those who are willing to speak less and listen more. To let go while opening themselves fully to the experience. This invitation is a kind gift. A privilege granted only to those with humble hearts and noble souls.

It is a path worth following, but only if one’s intentions are pure. If they’re not, the real soul of the mountain will always remain out of reach, as it should.

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Everything Not Running

December always puts me in a reflective mood. It’s the time when I think about what truly matters and how I want to shape my life in the year ahead. It’s not just about running goals but about everything that feels close to my heart: Willpower, writing, family, health, finances (booooring), and even planned purchases and non-purchases.

I don’t just let these thoughts float around. I write them down — not as a to-do list, but as a set of guiding principles, a reminder of what truly matters. This digital note lives pinned to the top of my screen all year, quietly nudging me when I glance at it. For 2024, I titled it ‘Yesses 2024’.

Here’s the funny thing: I didn’t look at it often. But every time I did, it gave me a spark, a small yet meaningful impulse to realign myself. Now, as I revisit that note at the year’s end, I notice something humbling: many things turned out differently than I envisioned. Not necessarily in a bad way — my priorities simply shifted. And that, I think, is the essence of life: change.

Looking back, I feel like 2024 left a deep mark on me. Not in a dramatic or evaluative sense, but simply in how much it shaped me.

Now, for those of you eagerly following along: no, I won’t be sharing my ‘Yesses’ note with you (Sorry, not sorry!). I firmly believe the magic of this ritual lies in its privacy. But don’t worry, you’ll gradually discover what will matter to me in 2025. After all, that’s exactly what the Das Z Letter is for.

(Yes that’s an symbolic photo of me being allowed to stand on top a mountain)

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On Repeat

Growing up as a teenager in the hardcore scene, or more broadly with underground music in the 1990s, was a special experience. There were far fewer bands than in all the decades that followed, and an album release was eagerly awaited for months. Especially when it was the 'new album' of one of the three most important hardcore bands of the time.

SNAPCASE had already made a name for themselves with the Comatose EP and their debut album Lookinglasself, but it was the advance EP Steps that made it clear that an absolutely groundbreaking album was coming in 1997.

And so it was. Progression Through Unlearning fulfilled all the expectations of us hardcore kids, but also had a huge influence far beyond the hardcore scene.

More technically adept than many metal bands, with an inescapable and driving rhythm like Helmet, as catchy as a stadium rock band, yet as heavy and angry as hardcore music should be, lyrics that even the most talented singer-songwriter couldn't have put more succinctly, and stunningly beautiful artwork. In short, SNAPCASE’s Progression Through Unlearning is the perfect hardcore album.

You could pick any song from Progression Through Unlearning, but 'Caboose' (rightly) got the most attention at the time. So when Apple Music put this gem in my player this week, it was clear it was going to be my “On Repeat”.