The Art of Type II Fun
joyful movement, but make it slightly miserable
I leave for Switzerland on Tuesday and I’m feeling… unprepared? Long story short: my mom, who recently retired, recruited Ryan and me to participate in an 11-day hiking trip in the Swiss Alps. I love hiking; I love the mountains; I love hiking in the mountains. But this trip may be the most physically challenging hiking trip I’ve ever gone on (and that’s saying something because I did the 240-mile-long John Muir Trail with my mom in 2018).
If you scroll through the trip link above, you may have been distracted by the beautiful photos and missed the elevation profile below each day. But we did not miss that important detail. If you look at just day two, we will be hiking 11 miles with 3,060 ft of elevation gain and 2720 ft of elevation loss. What does that mean? It means we are going up, up, up and down, down, down. And that elevation profile is pretty much every single day. For context, the Empire State Building is roughly 1,500 ft tall.
I’ve been contemplating how this all ties into my appreciation of Type II fun, a concept I wrote about in my Squarespace era. I had been trying to find the words to describe how excited I was about this Switzerland, while also describing how much voluntary suffering I’m likely to do. I found my 2022 piece on Type II fun and thought it would be fun to share that here. Enjoy this 2022 relic!
I’ve spent much of my life considering why I enjoy doing outdoor activities that make me suffer. Hiking 240 miles on the John Muir Trail. Biking across Iowa (can’t guarantee I enjoyed this one). Spending my middle and high school summers backpacking with my dad. Taking a weekend to backpack with GW students. Even skydiving is in this category.
I’m a huge proponent of “joyful movement” and these activities feel joyful AFTER I do them, but in the moment — there’s no sugar coating it — they are f*cking miserable. See here for my reflection after finishing the John Muir Trail. Appropriately it is named “The Art of Suffering Well.”
Ryan sent me an article a few weeks ago and I ignored it (sorry Ryan), but somehow it caught my eye yesterday. I read it and honestly my world has shifted (dramatic and mostly kidding, but very impactful!).
The article explains:
“Type I fun is an activity you’re sure you’ll enjoy, and you do. Think: sharing a nice meal with friends, going to the beach or a chill day of downhill skiing (using the chairlift, like normal people). Type III fun? It’s actually not fun at all. It’s often described as “harrowing,” like getting dangerously lost in the wilderness or trying to swim across the Atlantic. It often involves search-and-rescue, prayers and vows that you’ll never do it again.
But Type II fun? That’s the sweet spot. It challenges you without putting you in danger — and it’s often uncomfortable but in ways that also make you feel alive.”
I read that explanation and had a huge lightbulb moment. The phrase “Type II fun” was coined in 1985 by a geology professor at University of Alaska — it was usually in reference to climbing. Think: a Type I wall might be an easy, joyful climb and a Type II wall is one where you are challenged and it is really hard, but you feel so gratified to have done it.
To be clear, this “fun scale” is not validated or scientifically sound. It wouldn’t be cited in academic journals. It’s more of a cultural concept that seems to resonate.
The problem with this scale, as many psychologists have noted, is that everyone has a different threshold for the different fun types. I, for example, would categorize what Alex Honnold does (free soloing El Cap) as Type III fun. Dangerous, unnecessary, not even joyful after the fact. But I truly believe that Alex Honnold would categorize his pursuits at solid Type II fun. Courtney Dauwalter, an extremely talented ultra runner, runs insane distances and firmly believes that these 200 & 300 mile races are Type II fun. I think, for me, they’d be Type III. “Type III fun” feels a little misleading because it isn’t really fun at all.
But that’s the beauty of the scale. For someone, a one night backpacking trip might not be any type of fun. For me, it’s solid Type II fun. We all have different interests, skills, preferences, and that is how we create our fun scale. We each have a unique sliding scale of discomfort where these fun types begin and end.
I think training plays a huge role in this conversation as well. When Ryan ran his first 25K, I think he was pushing into Type III fun — the type of fun where you almost regret doing it in the first place. He did next to no training for this race and it showed. But Ryan trained hard for the same race this year and had the Type II time of his life. Something could be really not fun now, but with some training could become Type II fun. Your fun scale doesn’t need to be static throughout your life — and likely won’t be!
I also deeply believe this fun scale does not just apply to physical pursuits. Choosing to knit an incredibly complicated and technical blanket might be pushing into Type II fun. It was really tedious during the process, but feels so good once you are done. The article mentions parenting as a great example of Type II fun.
That’s why I think it’s important to push back on the idea that there is a hierarchy of fun. Your unique sliding scale of fun and discomfort is as worthy as mine even if it is different. I like the concept of Type II fun because I think there can be value in discomfort. This article I found explains this concept so well. A bit of discomfort can lead to resiliency and build your confidence. It can show you arenas that you never even realized were possible. It can give you perspective, help you build deep and meaningful connections, encourage you to truly appreciate your body for what it is capable of. Type II fun serves as the conduit for a form of growth that I think can be difficult if we live perpetually in Type I fun.
Now, do I think all movement should be a little bit miserable? No. I think ultimately movement should be joyful, even if there are moments or periods of discomfort. For example, during the warm-up in LYT Yoga we always do a dolphin (a yoga pose) and I struggle with it. It never feels easy. But I know that dolphin is helping me integrate my core, strengthen my upper back, and allows me to understand my imbalances better. It’s ok to do things that aren’t always fun because you know they are good for you.
But at the end of the day it is about respecting and honoring your body. I honor and respect my body by choosing movements that I know will serve my body now and in the future. Not every movement I do is “fun” but I feel powerful and energetic afterwards.
Pursuing Type II fun doesn’t mean you should just find a miserable thing and do it. The art of Type II fun is finding something you enjoy and maybe adding a challenge or turning up the intensity. What qualifies as Type II fun will change throughout your life and that’s amazing. Discomfort can build resilience, but too much can be discouraging. The Washington Post article about Type II fun ends with this Courtney Dauwalter quote which I love:
“Mindset is really important, and in those moments of discomfort, I try to remember that I chose it and I get to do it, as opposed to having to do it,” Dauwalter said. “Just that switch of words alone can change the whole story.”
So there you have it. Next week I will be knee-deep in type II fun and hopefully having the time of my life (while also wondering why I used my vacation days for this). Have I trained at all for Switzerland? Absolutely not. Will we hit Type III fun? Unclear, but I hope not. Be on the lookout for my trip reflection in 2.5 weeks!