Outside Podcast

The Olympics is a ridiculous mixture of hit-you-straight-in-the-feels origin stories and Greek god-level athletic prowess. Even in the endless parade of epic performances it inevitably serves up, Jessie Diggins’ will likely stand out. The most decorated American crosscountry skier of all time, Jessie was one of the most thrilling moments in Olympic history when she and teammate Kikkan Randall won the US’s first-ever crosscountry skiing gold in the team sprint at the 2018 Winter Games in Pyeongchang. She heads to the 2026 Winter Games in Cortina, Italy as one of the U.S. team’s most recognizable faces and the only crosscountry skier your parents have ever heard of. It would be unfair to say that she doesn’t feel the pressure of carrying the expectations of a country every time she blasts off the starting line, but her perspective on that pressure might surprise you—it’s one that owes as much to her elite accomplishments as it does to her down-to-earth Midwestern roots.

The comeback is central to the mythology of sports, and when one plays out on the already mythic stage of the Olympics, athletes in relatively obscure sports can become legends. That’s the context in which halfpipe skier Nick Goepper finds himself as the U.S. Ski Team prepares to name its Olympians next week. An unlikely ski phenom from Indiana, who first drew attention in the park of his 400-vertical foot local hill, Nick is a three-time Olympic medalist … in slopestyle. A successful late career pivot to halfpipe would be more than enough to make the 31-year-old a compelling main character of the upcoming Milan Cortina Winter Games, but that’s not why these Games are a comeback. In the 12 years since earning Bronze at the 2014 Games in Sochi, Russia, Nick battled depression, panic attacks, and substance abuse, all of which culminated in a very public arrest for criminal mischief. Nick has been guarded about his mental health journey until now, as he opens up about how you can only chase your dreams if you’re bold enough to face your demons.

Adventuring outside is great for the beauty, the sense of awe, the fitness, but really…we’re all in it for the snacks. And no one chases down the munchies quite like skiers. Maybe you’ve seen a snowy wiggler pull a bratwurst out of a jacket pocket while on a chairlift. Maybe you yourself have devoured a towering plate of loaded tatter tots at apres. There’s just something about scarfing oodles of vittles during and after skiing that is far more satisfying than any other post mountain pursuit grubfest. And while it’s true that charging down a mountain in the cold empties your body’s glycogen stores, skiing and snacking has as much to do with your emotions as it does your legs. Because if you fail to refuel either your belly or your heart, well, there won’t be any pizza-french fry fun in your future. And in this classic episode from our vault, we explore the extremes skiers will go to fuel their powder day dreams.

Roman Dial is engaged in a five-decade exploration of Alaska by raft, mountain bike, and foot … but not trail. Over the course of locally legendary adventures like his 800-mile traverse of the Brooks Range and the 628 miles he once hiked with a single backpack’s worth of food and gear, Dial was forced to invent new means of transport, like the pack raft and a form of bushwack mountain biking called “hell biking.” His commitment to physical pursuits in his adopted home state is matched by intellectual traversing during a 30-plus year career as a professor of science and mathematics at Alaska Pacific University. As a teacher, Roman used his remarkable outdoor skills to lead research expeditions into the bush to mentor generations of scientists, all of which is beautifully captured in a new film about his life, “Arctic Alchemy.” After five decades of these sufferfests, Roman has a perspective on life and adventure that will change your attitude the next time you’re cold, wet, and many miles from home.

Even those of us who seek freedom and adventure in the wilderness are hardwired to keep themselves safe. It’s why we, as a species, outlasted the dodo and reached the top of the food chain. But there is a subset of outdoor athletes who seem to have found the genetic safety switch in their mitochondria and turned it off—folks like ski alpinist Christina Lustenberger. Lusti, as her superhuman friends call her, has racked up more first descents on mountains of consequence than arguably any other other woman in the last 10 years. These culminated in the past few years with the 20,000 foot Great Trango Tower in Pakistan, and Mount Robson, Canada’s tallest peak. But it’s in the less expected parts of her life that Lusti proves that she’s not always fearless. When it comes to facing the relationships in her life that aren’t going well, she feels the sharp end of fear that the rest of us might get staring up Robson. And what she does with that fear might surprise you.