The
InterviewJason and
Emily
McCarthy

The founders of GORUCK on the value of continuing to do hard things.

By Erica Huss

Photographs
Courtesy Emily and Jason McCarthy

Most people spend their lives trying to avoid discomfort. Jason and Emily McCarthy built a company around seeking it out. Long before GORUCK became synonymous with weighted backpacks, endurance events, and the growing phenomenon of rucking, the couple was navigating careers in Special Forces and the CIA, often separated by continents, conflict zones, and years of uncertainty. Those experiences shaped a philosophy that has become central to both their business and their lives: that challenge isn’t something to endure until it’s over, it’s where growth happens.

Erica Huss, Chief Wellness Officer at Seconds, sat down with the McCarthys to talk about rucking, resilience, reinvention, and why choosing hard things might be one of the simplest paths to a better life. Try not to be moved by this awe-inspiring couple.

Woman walking with ruck pack — Getting comfortable with the discomfort.

Erica Huss: For people who may know GORUCK but not your personal story, can you start at the beginning?
Jason McCarthy: We met in high school, went our separate ways, and reconnected after college. We graduated in 2001, and like a lot of people then, I didn’t know what I was going to do with my life. Then 9/11 happened. That clarified things, not immediately, but eventually.

Emily went into the CIA. I joined the military and later Special Forces. We got married while we were both in training, graduated from our programs five days apart, and then went to different war zones. That was our normal.

GORUCK really started after I came back from Iraq and visited Emily in West Africa. It was dangerous in a quieter way. I built her a rucksack filled with stuff she might need if things went down, and, very quickly, other people at the embassy wanted one. Someone said, “You should do this when you get out,” and that was the seed.

EH: But GORUCK didn’t exactly launch smoothly.
JM: That’s generous. I tried to start it as a bag company, but nobody wanted rucking bags. I drove to 48 states trying to sell them. Zero sales.

So then I had no money, our marriage was feeling the strain of it all, and this company became the thing I poured everything into. It felt like proof that I wasn’t a failure. Then I created an event, the GORUCK Challenge. It was basically Fight Club with rucksacks. People showed up, then they came back. And suddenly it wasn’t about the bags anymore.

“We live very comfortable lives, and it’s easy to get trapped there. But our bodies are built to be used.” —Emily

EH: When did you realize rucking itself was the thing?
Emily McCarthy: We backed into it. Jason knew rucking from the military, but civilians didn’t. Around 2013 or 2014, we realized we needed to explain what this actually was, and that it didn’t have to be extreme. The military version is heavy weight, sleep deprivation, food deprivation. We had to say: you don’t need to do it like that. You can add 10 or 20 pounds to a walk and get real benefits.

What surprised me was how many people it worked for, different ages, different fitness levels. Jason can carry 75 pounds, I can carry 20, and we’re still moving together at the same pace.

EH: Was there something about this that surprised you personally?
EM: I was a runner. Rucking wasn’t something I would’ve gravitated toward. But as I’ve gotten older, it’s one of the few things I can do with almost anyone, friends, family, different fitness levels, with a really low risk of injury.

And socially, it’s powerful. You don’t need a shared skill set. You just walk.

JM: That was my answer too. It lets intense people and not-so-intense people coexist. I can carry more weight quietly. No one has to know. That accessibility matters.

EH: A lot of our audience is facing that midlife pivot, the second half. What are you noticing about how rucking resonates with people there?
EM: There’s something empowering about how deceptively simple it is. We all know walking is good for us, but people don’t always think of it as exercise. Psychologically, though, putting something on your back changes the experience. It turns “I should go for a walk” into “I’m doing a thing.”

There’s also a grit factor. For men especially, there’s something about it that signals purpose. For women, many come seeking the health benefits. But once you’re in, you realize it’s not about proving anything, it’s about feeling better.

People on beach — The mantra in action: ruck up with friends and embrace the suck.

EH: When people hit that pivot, they can feel stuck or scared. Rucking feels like a metaphor: you don’t have to reinvent your life, you just walk and carry a load. What would you say to someone at that moment?
EM: We talk a lot about remembering what it feels like to be uncomfortable. When you first put on a ruck with weight, you notice it. It’s uncomfortable. And then you walk, and your body adapts.

We live very comfortable lives, and it’s easy to get trapped there. But our bodies are built to be used. What we love seeing is how people work this into real life, dog walks, strollers, podcasts, conversations. You can say, “Let’s go for a ruck, I have an extra pack.” You pick the weight. It’s not complicated. You put it on, you go outside, you walk, and you see how you feel.

JM: I think rucking is an expression of a mindset, not the end state.

Comfort is the great lie. The surest way to a miserable life is trying to make everything easy. You don’t get good at doing hard things by always choosing comfort, and I don’t mean that as a Special Forces idea, I mean it as a human one.

It’s hard to have real conversations. It’s hard to go outside and move instead of consuming. It’s hard to call a friend, to show up, to change direction. So the mindset is doing, not consuming.

Rucking just happens to be an accessible way to practice that. It starts in your head. Your body follows. When someone tells me they’re stuck in their head and don’t feel good, I take it down to basics: put a rucksack on, go walk for an hour, come back and talk. Do you feel better? Yes or no. And it’s basically never no.

“Comfort is the great lie. The surest way to a miserable life is trying to make everything easy.” —Jason

EH: If you could sit down with a past version of yourself, any era, for lunch, who would it be? What would you say?
EM: My twenties, without question. There was so much uncertainty, and we made a lot of mistakes, but we were out there, exploring, pushing edges, trying and failing. It was formative.

I think I can be more present now, as a parent, as an adult, because of what I did wrong then. I’d tell myself not to be afraid of my thirties and forties. They actually get better.

JM: I’d go two directions.

I’d go back to my twenties and tell myself to hold that beautiful life closer, even in chaos. My wife and I were in different war zones, and we didn’t have the tools people have now. I have regrets about that.

And I’d go forward, to my older self, and ask one thing: what do you regret?

Failure doesn’t bother me, that’s part of trying. Regret is different. Regret is when you didn’t do something you could have done.

If I hear that voice saying “you’ll regret this if you don’t do it,” I stop and listen. That’s you walking your path. When you deviate from it, that’s when regret shows up.

A lot of that comes from war, loss, surviving when others didn’t. It makes you ask: what do I owe because I’m still here? That question drives everything for me.

EH: Anything you want to leave people with?
JM: Put the weight on your back instead of carrying it in your head. Go do something. Don’t just consume. Your body will follow your mindset.

EM: Discomfort isn’t the problem. It’s part of the point.

Erica Huss is a founder, author, and host who has spent twenty years translating health research into tools people can actually use. She thinks like a strategist, communicates like a creative director, and approaches wellness with rigor, humanity, and a sense of humor. At Seconds she serves as Chief Wellness Officer.