Growing up immersed in nature was an amazing privilege. Thanks to my involvement in sports, particularly cross-country and track, I was out in the elements pretty much no matter what. Rain, snow, heat, or cold — none of that stopped my family or teammates. We prepared ourselves for whatever Mother Nature threw at us. We were swept away as she transformed our various playgrounds from the lush green of summer to the majestic colors of fall, then blankets of snow giving way to the magic of springtime.

40 years later I can still hear the crunch of leaves beneath our feet as we ran through the woods on our cross country course. The sense of freedom was palpable as I maneuvered my body through grassy meadows, mud pits, challenging single track, wide open fields, mountain paths, and old railroad beds. Our feet reunited with the earth via barefoot strides on the football field, freeing our feet to their natural state, connecting with the ground and strengthening our feet without the aid of cumbersome shoes.

As the trees shed their leaves and fall morphed into winter, we learned to truly appreciate fresh air, even when it was bitter cold. Running in the hallways of a high school gets old fast, especially as a distance runner. I hated being confined and longed to be set free to explore. 

I have a vivid memory of my dad, who was my high school coach, driving us to school early one morning after a snowstorm so he could shovel a lane around the track just so we could run. I’m sure I complained and thought it was nuts at the time, but it made us stronger and I’m sure we were all better for it. Plus there’s just something so cool about running around a track that’s been buried in snow. The circular path that was only a few inches wide, bookmarked by walls of snow on either side, will forever remain etched in my memory. 

We raced in snow squalls and downpours where the mud engulfed our feet and snatched our shoes. I’ll never forget competing in the state championship in the pouring rain where the trail quickly transformed into a giant slip and slide for hundreds of kids running full speed. 

Winters didn’t slow me down or trap me inside. I was  fortunate to ski occasionally as a kid. Whether I was soaring recklessly downhill, or traversing open fields and lakes on cross-country skis, I loved the way the snow muted the noise and cushioned my falls. When I turned 12, I immediately got my snowmobile license so I could spend my weekends flying across the frozen lake in between hours of ice-skating or hockey games.

Summer was the ultimate outdoor adventure. Growing up on a lake where we played outside from 8 AM until as late as we could get away with, instilled in me an immense appreciation for nature. Kick the Can and Capture the Flag kept us running around the neighborhood for hours. When I close my eyes, I am transported to those magical nights sprinting down the road, eyes adjusted to the darkness, determined to set my teammates free. The sounds of insects and creatures rustling through the woods were the soundtrack of our childhood. Swimming, boating, sailing, windsurfing,  basketball and tennis — you name it, we played it. 

Not only did we engage in these activities on a daily basis, we biked or walked everywhere. Nothing compared to the sense of endless possibility when you threw a beach towel around your neck, mounted your bike, and rode to the beach. I pedaled as fast as my legs allowed, barely able to contain my  excitement to meet my friends to spend the day building sandcastles, hands and feet caked in wet sand, naturally connecting with nature in a multitude of ways. 

My summer jobs were a gift. Lifeguarding, teaching swimming lessons, then directing a summer youth program allowed me to spend most of my days outside. That was a godsend because as I grew older, I spent a lot more time driving everywhere instead of biking or walking. Then as the stress of puberty, raging hormones and mood swings started to take over, I was still able to find solace by being outdoors. If I had been trapped indoors, I’m sure I wouldn’t have fared very well. 

Even as a teenager who struggled with bouts of depression, there was nothing more soothing than sitting on a dock or floating on the water, listening to the rhythmic sound of waves while  staring up at the clouds, feeling connected to something greater than myself. I didn’t have the self awareness or words for it at the time, but I definitely felt it. No matter the season I longed to be outside. When I allowed myself to be still in nature, the shift in energy was undeniable. 

I’m extremely grateful that my childhood instilled in me a love for nature and outdoor adventure. Imagine how much better off we would be if we could reclaim just a portion of that? Screw the video games, artificial light, hours of sitting in unnatural positions, breathing recycled air,  being cut off from the sounds and scents of nature, while being bombarded by the never ending hum of machinery, traffic, angry ungrateful people, and TVs blaring negativity that feeds our need for constant distraction. No wonder we’re so stressed and angry and unhealthy as a society! Just thinking about it triggers anxiety and restlessness.

Our lives have become so artificial that we resort to downloading apps in order to listen to calming sounds of nature.  Instinctively we know it works. We’ve made our lives nearly impossible to experience the real thing other than an annual trip to the beach for a week or two. We weren’t designed to be cut off from nature, so our bodies and souls are suffering.

Obviously we can’t all ditch our adult responsibilities to roam free like kids. (Do most kids even have a chance to play in nature anymore?) Those memories remind and encourage me to seek out nature as often as possible in order to reset. It’s truly incredible how a mere 20 minutes sitting by a stream can shift my thoughts and energy. Running outside rather than on a treadmill, makes a world of difference for my mental health. The treadmill is work and monotony. Outside running soothes my soul. That’s no accident.

As the weather improves, I encourage you to pay attention to how you feel when you spend more time outside. Do you experience a sense of relief, calmness, longing, connection, and gratitude when you go for a walk, sit under a tree or bury your feet in the sand? How did you interact with nature as a kid? What can you do now to rekindle that connection? 

Noticing how much better I feel when I spend time in nature has been a powerful motivator to re-prioritize. My mind, body and soul always thanks me. Just imagine if we all made spending time outdoors,  appreciating God’s creation,  more of a priority. I have no doubt the world would be a better place.