Data, elevation gain, and mindset: trails that changed how I think

When I'm asked why someone who spends their day among servers, code, and artificial intelligence needs to escape to the Pyrenees on weekends, the easy answer is "to disconnect." But that's a lie. I don't go to the mountains to disconnect, but to reconnect, and surprisingly, the experience has a lot to do with data and managing complex projects.

The GPX as the project roadmap

Before summiting, I analyze it. I look at the topographic map, study the elevation gain, water points, and exposed zones. I download the GPX file and visualize it in 3D. This "pre-production" phase is identical to software architecture. If you start walking (or coding) without knowing where the mountain pass is, you'll burn out halfway up.

The mountain has taught me that data is not the goal, but the tool. Knowing there are 400 meters of elevation gain left doesn't make the climb any less hard, but it allows me to manage my energy. At work, KPIs do the same: they don't solve the problem, but they tell you if you need to speed up or if you can rest.

The "Bonk" Lesson (Resource Management)

There is a moment in every long route where the body says "enough." Sugar drops, legs feel heavy, and your head tells you to turn back. In cycling and trekking, we call this "bonking" (or "agafar una pàjara" in Catalan). Overcoming this moment is purely mental and strategic: eat, drink, slow down, and put one foot in front of the other.

In the tech world, this is "Deployment Hell" or the critical moment before a launch. When everything fails and the team is exhausted, the mountain attitude prevails: don't look at the summit, just look at the next step. Solve the next error. And then the next one. Resilience is trained on the trails, not in air-conditioned offices.

The Analog Silence

We live in an attention economy where notifications are constant. Above 2,000 meters, coverage often disappears. This silence is not empty; it is space. It is in these moments of physical monotony—walk, breathe, walk—that the brain, free from digital inputs, starts processing the week's complex problems in the background. The best system architecture ideas I've ever had weren't in front of a whiteboard, but descending Puigmal or cycling through Cerdanya.

Conclusion: We are biological machines

We optimize servers, clean code, and train AI models, but we often forget to maintain our own hardware. Trekking, with its mix of data (routes, times, heart rate) and wild nature, is my weekly *Reboot* system. And I assure you that on Monday, the code comes out cleaner.