Why I'll Never Be a Runner (But I'm Obsessed with This Trail Runner's Travel Philosophy)

The Day I Ran Through O'Hare with 40 Pounds of Pottery

Let me set the scene: It's sometime last year, I'm coming home from Greece, and I'm so jet-lagged I haven't slept in over 24 hours. I have an eight-hour layover at O'Hare, so naturally I set an alarm, put my head down on a table at my gate, and immediately pass out.

I wake up in a fog. Everyone who was sitting around me is gone. Never a good sign.

I look at the time. It's time to board. I look at my gate. My plane is no longer there.

Not only has my gate changed, it's moved to an entirely different concourse. And if you know O'Hare, you know that's not a quick walk.

So there I am, sprinting through one of the busiest airports in America, with a backpack full of Greek pottery weighing approximately 40 pounds, literally dying, convinced everything in my bag is going to shatter, pretty sure my back is actually breaking, all while having a full-on asthma attack.

I make it to the gate. They held the plane for me because it's a small regional flight back to my tiny city. I get on that plane wheezing, needing my inhaler, stomach hurting, almost in tears.

Oh, and I also peed my pants from the weight of my backpack putting pressure on my bladder with every step and having no time to use the bathroom after my long airport nap (welcome to your 40’s—IYKYK).

That was the hardest run I've done since I had to run a mile in gym class during my senior year of high school.

Which is why when I sat down to talk with Joe Baur - a travel writer who runs ultra marathons through countries for a living - I had to laugh. Because while I'm over here proud of my 10-minute pottery sprint, this guy is out here running 60+ miles a day through Nepal, getting pneumonia on day two of an eight-day stage race, and still finishing.

And no, I will never be that person. I'm not a runner, and I never will be. Just thinking about running for eight consecutive days makes me want to take a nap.

But here's the thing: After talking with Joe, I realized his approach to travel - his entire philosophy about how to experience destinations authentically - resonates with me on a level that has nothing to do with running.

Meet Joe: The Guy Who Literally Runs Through Countries

This week’s podcast guest, Joe Baur.

Joe Baur is Cleveland-born, Berlin-based, and has built his entire career around getting off the beaten path - both literally and figuratively. He's a travel writer whose work appears in places like BBC Travel and National Geographic, he hosts the Without a Path podcast, and he just launched a trail running tour company.

But what makes Joe different from your typical travel writer is that he doesn't just visit destinations and write about them—he runs through them. Like, actually runs. For hours. Sometimes days.

We met last fall in Okinawa, Japan on a press trip with the Adventure Travel Trade Association. Before joining us in Okinawa, Joe had been in mainland Japan running something called the Ninja Trail Run - yes, with actual people dressed as ninjas along the course who would playfully "attack" you with fake swords as you ran past.

"It was such a kitschy fun experience," he told me. "All the while doing type 2 things where I remember being like 35 kilometers into the thing and asking myself, did I really have to do the longest one? Couldn't I have just done a shorter version?"

If you're new to this podcast and wondering what "Type 2" means, let me explain: Type 2 fun is that experience that's a little miserable in the moment - where you're questioning every life choice that led you to this point - but afterward, you're glad you did it. It becomes the story you can't stop telling.

It's getting caught in a sandstorm while riding camels in the Sahara. It's getting absolutely annihilated by mosquitoes in the Brazilian Pantanal while trying to film content. It's playing Holi in India and getting completely demolished by colored powder and water that stains your hair for months after returning home.

And apparently, it's running 35 kilometers dressed as a ninja through rural Japan.

The Nepal Story: When Type 2 Fun Gets Really Real

Joe's most recent adventure was an eight-day stage race through Nepal. Not just a casual jog, mind you. We're talking about running in harsh, dry air, extreme cold (despite it not being winter), high altitude, and covering serious distances every single day.

On day two, he got pneumonia.

Let me repeat that: He got pneumonia on day two of an eight-day running race.

Most people would tap out immediately. Go home. Rest. Recover. But Joe? He missed two stages while he rested, got loaded up on antibiotics, and on the final day - against probably better judgment - hiked to the highest point of that day's route and did a light jog down.

"That'll do it," he laughed when I asked about his most challenging run. "That instantly put it up to the top of the most challenging runs."

But here's the part that really stuck with me. Even in the middle of getting sick, even while coughing his lungs out in the Himalayas, Joe admitted that part of him was thinking about the press trip he'd turned down to be there.

"I had been invited on a press trip to Botswana that overlapped with these dates," he said. "I'd be lying if I said I wasn't in the middle of another long day, starting to get the early symptoms of pneumonia and coughing, hacking my lungs out, and just feeling miserable, and didn't occasionally think about chilling in Botswana, relaxing. But then, as with all type 2 fun, you finish the thing and you're like, ‘Okay, I'm glad I did that.’"

That's the magic of type 2 travel. In the moment, you might want to be literally anywhere else. But those uncomfortable, challenging, sometimes downright miserable experiences? Those are the ones that stick with you. Those are the ones that transform you.

Why Running (Even Though I Hate It) Is Actually Genius for Travel

Now, I need to be clear: I am never going to run an ultra marathon. I am never going to do a stage race. I can barely run for 5 minutes without wanting to die.

But here's what I learned from Joe that has nothing to do with actually running:

When you move through a destination slowly, on foot, away from the tourist centers, you see things you would never otherwise see.

Joe explained it perfectly: "When you're trained for and able to do these longer runs, you can really get out into remote areas, smaller villages, and it kind of just opens up your travel map a little bit more."

Think about it.

If you go on a hike, you're naturally going to cover less distance. You might still be in more popular areas. But when you can cover serious distances on foot - whether that's running, hiking, or even just walking - you access parts of a destination that most tourists never reach.

Joe mentioned that he started really getting into trail running when he moved to Germany. He and his wife would take weekend trips, hop on a train after work on Friday, stay in small villages, and spend the weekend running or hiking through wine regions, forests, and long-distance trails that crisscross the country.

"It's a great way to see parts of a destination that you otherwise wouldn't," he said. "And I started writing about this stuff, and I just liked it. I liked the physical challenge and the stories that come out of it, and the ways cultures look at running and physical challenges."

This is exactly how I feel about the way I travel with my groups. We're not traveling the typical tourist trail. We're not doing the "hop off, take your photo, hop back on" experience. In Morocco, we're riding camels into the Sahara and sleeping under the stars. In India, we're not just watching Holi from a distance - we're in it, covered head to toe in colored powder. In Cuba, we're riding in classic cars through the countryside, not sitting on an air-conditioned tour bus.

The best travel experiences happen when you slow down, get uncomfortable, and go places that require a little more effort to reach.

What Japan Taught Joe About Ikigai (And What It Taught Me About Purpose)

One of the reasons we were in Okinawa was because it's a Blue Zone - one of the regions in the world where people live significantly longer than average. We learned about the concept of ikigai, which roughly translates to "reason for being" or your life's purpose.

But Joe shared a different interpretation of ikigai that completely shifted how I think about goal-setting:

"My understanding of the ikigai concept would be to sign yourself up for a challenge, either literally or figuratively, and just go do it and not tell anybody about it," he explained. "And the challenge has to be something that you literally do not know if you can finish or not."

In the running world, apparently people love to make big announcements: "I'm running this race on this date! Root for me! Cheer me on!"

Joe's done it too. We all have.

But the ikigai approach is different. It's about signing up for something that scares you, something you're genuinely not sure you can complete, and just... doing it. Not for the Instagram post. Not for the external validation. But for yourself.

Joe is currently working on something that fits this perfectly: He wants to try to set an FKT (fastest known time) running across his home state of Ohio - over 60 miles a day. He's never done that distance before. He doesn't know if he can. He has a nagging injury. It might fail.

"I wouldn't be surprised if I fail, but it also wouldn't surprise me if I finish," he said. "And to me, that's how I understand ikigai."

This hit me hard because I think so many of us - especially in the age of social media - only do things we're pretty confident we can accomplish. We want to look successful. We don't want to publicly fail.

But real growth, real transformation, real type 2 experiences? Those come from the things we're genuinely not sure we can do.

Starting my travel business at 38 after getting divorced? I had no idea if it would work. Taking groups to places people consider "dangerous" like Morocco and Cuba when I barely spoke the languages? No clue if I could pull it off.

But that uncertainty - that not knowing - is where the magic happens.

The Country Counting BS We All Need to Stop

At some point in our conversation, I asked Joe how many countries he's run in. His response? "I don't know. I'm not a big country counter."

This opened up one of my favorite tangents of the entire episode: Why country counting as a measure of travel experience is complete and utter bullshit.

Here's the thing: I've been to Spain eight times, and I’ve lived there twice. Morocco seven times. Greece five times. Mexico? More times than I can count on my fingers and toes. None of that depth of experience is captured when I say "I've been to 29 countries" or whatever number it is now.

Someone could spend a month immersing themselves in one country - really learning the culture, making local connections, understanding the history and social dynamics. Another person could take five day trips to different countries just to check them off a list.

Which one is the "better" traveler?

Joe shared a brilliant example: Estonia has a tourism ad that says "Tallinn is 0.3% of Estonia. Visit Estonia."

He's been to Estonia. But he's been to 0.3% of it. Does that really count?

"Some of these countries are huge," Joe pointed out. "So it'd be like, oh yeah, I've been to Ukraine. But actually, I was in probably 5% of it. So it's all kind of ridiculous."

I couldn't agree more. And yet, we all do it. Even Joe admits: "I'm a hypocrite, I guess is what I'm saying, because when you're doing it for business purposes, it just sounds better to say you’ve been to 50 countries than saying, 'We've been to 4% of the planet.'"

It's a credential thing. It makes us sound experienced. But it's also misleading as hell.

So here's my PSA for the day: Stop comparing your travel experiences based on country count. Stop feeling like you're "behind" because someone else has been to 50 countries and you've only been to 10. Stop checking countries off a list like they're items on a grocery store receipt.

Instead, ask yourself: Am I actually experiencing these places? Am I learning about the culture? Am I connecting with locals? Am I having transformative experiences?

Because I'd rather learn from someone who's spent a month in one country really diving deep than someone who's spent a weekend in 20 countries just to say they've been there.

Being American Right Now (And Why You Shouldn't Let Fear Stop You)

I've been asking this question to every American I talk to who either lives abroad or travels extensively: What's it like for you right now?

Joe moved to Germany in August 2016 - right before Trump's first term - and just got his German citizenship last year. When I asked what it's like being outside the chaos happening in the US, he was refreshingly candid.

"My wife and I feel more secure in the long run here," he said.

But he's also quick to point out that Europe isn't a utopia. Germany has its own far-right party that got about 20% of the vote. France, Hungary, and other countries have their own problems.

And here's what I want every American reading this to understand: When you travel internationally right now, people are not going to reject you for being American.

They might be curious.

They might ask questions.

They might want to know what you think about what's happening. But as Joe put it perfectly:

"Nobody's waking up in the morning like, 'I wonder what the Americans are doing.' But they know so much more about us than the average American knows about any specific European country."

We're the world's reality television. People watch what we're doing with a mix of fascination and schadenfreude. But that doesn't mean they don't want us to visit.

I get messages all the time from people who are afraid to travel internationally right now. They're worried about how they'll be received. They're worried about safety. They're worried about... everything.

But here's what I see when I actually travel: People are curious. They're kind. They're welcoming. They want to know your story. They want to share their own.

I just got back from a European trip crossing six countries. Before that, Greece. Before that, Brazil and India. All in 2025 since the election. I've never once felt unwelcome for being American. Confused by American politics? Sure. Curious about how I feel about things? Absolutely. But rejected? Never.

So please, please, please don't let fear - whether it's fear of how you'll be received or fear perpetuated by the media - stop you from exploring this world.

The Travelers Who Give Us All Hope

Toward the end of our conversation, I asked Joe what gives him hope about the future of authentic travel. His answer wasn't about reading the news (which "definitely does not inspire too much hope"). Instead, it was about the people.

Specifically, the people he's met on recent stage races who were willing to embrace discomfort and uncertainty in ways that surprised him.

"I'll admit, I was surprised," he said, talking about the folks on his Nepal trip. "It's expensive, and the places we were staying - on paper I would have thought anybody with money would not want to stay here. They would be like, 'No, excuse me, where's the Ritz?'"

But instead, people were game for whatever. They understood they were in a remote region where basic facilities were all that was available. They didn't complain. They were chill, gregarious, fun to talk to. They wanted to learn about the local culture. They were curious and interested.

"These travelers exist," Joe said. "And if there can be more of these kind of folks around the world who are going to places that might be a little bit more off the beaten path and have a positive perspective and go back home and educate their family and friends and other travelers and encourage them to do the same - that gives me a little bit of hope, I suppose."

This is exactly what I see with my own groups. People who are willing to sleep in the Sahara Desert. Ride classic cars through Cuba. Play Holi in India covered in colored powder. Spend a week sailing around Greece on a sailboat.

They're not looking for the Ritz. They're looking for authenticity, connection, and experiences they can't get anywhere else.

And when they go home? They become ambassadors for these destinations. They challenge the stereotypes. They share their stories. They inspire others to step outside their comfort zones.

That's what gives me hope.

You Don't Have to Be a Runner (But You Should Probably Do This)

Look, I'm never going to run an ultra marathon. I'm probably never going to run more than the distance required to catch a flight at O'Hare while carrying pottery.

But here's what I learned from Joe that applies to literally anyone who travels:

Combine your passion with your travel, and magic happens.

For Joe, it's running. For you, it might be photography, cooking, yoga, birdwatching, painting, writing, or pottery-collecting while sprinting through airports.

Whatever it is, when you combine something you're genuinely passionate about with travel, you unlock parts of destinations that most tourists never see. You connect with locals who share that interest. You have experiences that can't be replicated on a standard tour.

Joe just launched Burning River Running Company - a trail running tour business that takes people to places like Berlin, Ireland, Scotland, and Finland. Not to run marathons, necessarily, but to explore destinations through running.

This is the future of travel. Not massive tour buses herding 50 people through the same Instagram spots. But small, niche experiences built around authentic interests and genuine connection.

Whether you're a runner or not, the question is: What's your thing? And how can you combine it with travel?

The Type 2 Travel Mindset

At the end of the day, what I love about Joe's approach to travel is that it embodies everything Type 2 Travel stands for:

→ Embracing discomfort - Whether that's getting pneumonia in Nepal or sleeping in tea houses or running through thunderstorms in the Arctic Circle with swarms of mosquitoes

→ Getting off the beaten path - Literally running to remote villages and areas most tourists never reach

→ Challenging yourself - Signing up for things you're genuinely not sure you can finish

→ Prioritizing authentic experiences over comfort - Choosing Nepal over the beach; choosing trail running over resort relaxation

→ Making meaningful connections - With locals, with fellow travelers, with yourself

→ Creating stories worth telling - The kind that make people lean in and say "Wait, what?"

You don't have to be a runner to adopt this mindset. You just have to be willing to get a little uncomfortable, go places that require more effort to reach, and say yes to experiences that might make you question your life choices in the moment.

Because those are the experiences that stick with you. Those are the ones that transform you. Those are the stories you'll be telling for years.

So What Now?

If you're reading this thinking "I want to do more of this type 2 travel thing," here's my challenge:

Sign yourself up for something that scares you. Something you're genuinely not sure you can do.

Maybe it's that international trip you've been putting off. Maybe it's joining a group trip to a destination you know nothing about. Maybe it's learning a new skill that combines with travel. Maybe it's just getting out of your comfort zone in some small way.

But do it. Don't just think about it. Don't just add it to your "someday" list.

Because here's what Joe and I both know: You're not special. I'm not special. Despite what our moms tell us, we're really not that remarkable.

We're just people who decided to do the thing instead of wishing we could do the thing.

Joe didn't have a trust fund. He took a poorly-paying job to move to Germany. He and his wife live in a tiny apartment by American standards. They made sacrifices. They made choices.

I quit my 14-year career and started my travel business at 38 after getting divorced with no idea if it would work. I've made plenty of sacrifices. I've definitely made questionable choices.

But we did it anyway.

And you can too.

Just maybe leave the pottery at home.

Want to Hear the Full Conversation?

This blog barely scratches the surface. Listen to the full episode with Joe Baur, and find Type 2 Travel wherever you get your podcasts.

Ready for Your Own Type 2 Travel Experience?

If this conversation has you itching for your own adventure (minus the running part, unless that's your thing), I've got group trips coming up to some of my favorite destinations: