How to be an adventurous mom when you’re not “outdoorsy”

Lately, I’ve been reading some other family-adventure type articles and blogs.  The one thing I’ve noticed is that in nearly all of them, the moms are super outdoorsy.  Like, women who are dying to get back to hiking/biking/climbing/kayaking/backpacking a week after having a baby.  I see pictures of moms with tiny infants huddled against their chest as they’re out snowshoeing fifteen miles “just for fun.”  I see moms happily trekking across mountains and deserts with their kiddos, and, no they are not escaping a rogue government. I see pictures of moms clinging precariously to a sheer rock face while their 6-month-old and toddler look up from below.

And it’s awesome.

But, it left me thinking about moms like me, who are adventurous but not necessarily “outdoorsy.”

I know it all depends on how you define “outdoorsy,” but compared to women like the ones I described, I am a sad sack of potatoes binging Netflix every weekend.  And, to be honest, most of the time that’s kind of what I’d prefer to do.

I have always wanted to be super outdoorsy.  I’ve always wished that I was excited to spend all day outside, or excited to hike 20 miles with 80lbs on my back, or excited to finally destroy that 5.11 climbing route that had been torturing me for months.  But, really, I’m more of a gym girl. I’d rather lift weights in a stinky 8×10 room with sweaty grunting meatheads than go climbing on the weekends.  I’d rather do an exercise video at home than go trail running for an hour.  I’d rather be hunkered down reading books on the couch than slathering sunscreen and bug-spray on my squirming children, or threatening them with no Minecraft! If they refuse to wear their hats. I’m also fairly lazy. Sometimes a hike or a climb or a bike ride or a run just sounds like a lot of work.

But – I still try, because I AM adventurous (in certain ways) and I DO want to push myself, and I DO appreciate the beauty of nature, …. and, yes, I still have that annoying need to prove that I can hang with the badboysgirls (though I totally, in no way whatsoever absolutely cannot).

When Matt and I first started dating, I was interested in learning how to rock climb. It was novel to me and exciting and kind of sexy, and he was really into it, so why not? Later that summer, we went to Yosemite to go climbing with a bunch of his super outdoorsy friends. The hike to the climb was THREE MILES. Then we had to do the climb, which was challenging for me, and then hike down the far side of the cliff and back to our campsite.  Yeah, I was out of shape and a new climber, so we were the last ones to reach the climb, the last ones on the climb, and we hiked back in the dark because I was so slow and weak. When we arrived, everyone else was hanging out, laughing, cozy around the campfire with their whiskeys and hot tea because they had been back for hours.  Matt was a champ, but I felt like crying.

Fast forward to two summers ago when we were hiking up Mt. Antero, a Colorado 14’er.  By the time we reached the top, I was done. DONE. I was so done, I was ANGRY about it, fuming. I could feel the steam pouring out my ears. Less than 10 feet from the proper summit I dug in my heels and told Matt that I was not taking one more freaking step on this stupid god-forsaken mountain.  He guilted persuaded me to at least come over and take a picture. I marched over like a huffy teenager, fake-smiled for the camera, and then sat down on my butt silently raging. I’m still mad about it.

It’s true that I don’t mind peeing in the woods or doing some of those other necessary, inevitable outdoor things. I’ve gotten over all that stuff – to a point. I still have to walk like a quarter mile away from everyone to make sure no one will accidentally stumble upon me.  Once, this woman we camped with went pee literally 30 feet away from the campsite. Just looking around, I inadvertently saw her squatting and *I* about peed my pants because OH MY GOSH!! DOESN’T SHE KNOW PEOPLE CAN SEE HER!?!?!?!? But, there she was, casually checking things out while she went to the bathroom.  I have often thought about how ridiculous I am because of how far I will traipse into the woods just for a 30 second event.  The irony is that, in the middle of the night, I will pee right next to our tent because I am positive that a bear/lion/raccoon/rabid squirrel is just waiting to attack me if I wander more than two feet away.

Which is another one of those things I feel differentiates me from all those awesome outdoorsy moms – I am scared of the dark and terrified of being out in the woods.  Poor Matt. Oh, the number of times I have woken him up from a deep cozy sleep only to make him wander, naked and blurry-eyed, out into the dark, because I am sure I heard something. I once nudged him awake, after I’d been lying there wide-eyed, heart pounding, for ten minutes, because there was something rustling outside of our tent.  He grudgingly looks out the tent flap, gazes around, then growls, “It’s the wind. THE WIND.”

With this blog, I worry that people will mistakenly think that I’m some kind of super outdoorsy mom because we do all this camping with the kids and take them into canyons, whatever. I worry that other moms will mistakenly believe that there is something I do that they cannot. The real truth is just that I’m willing to suffer to grow.

As Matt will agree, a lot of what we do and have done with the kids has involved suffering for the sake of … Adventure? Denial? Pride?  We know that getting outside is so so so so good for the kids, and we want our boys to develop outdoor/survival skills and a love for nature, and we really do like engaging in these activities… But, with kids?!?!? Man it can be tough.

I think we all know that adventuring with kids is WORK.  And, usually, it’s us moms that do {most of} the heavy lifting when it comes to meal planning and grocery shopping and packing up the kids clothes and thinking about all the what-ifs and brainstorming ways to make the transition outdoors more comfortable for all.  It can often feel like nothing but work.

Now, not all adventuring has to be active – you don’t always have to be hiking or biking or rafting or riding a llama into the Grand Canyon. Even before kids, our ideal camping day consisted of campfire + tea + reading.  We would literally sit around the fire the entire day reading our books, only getting up to pee or collect more firewood.

Being lazy in the woods is exactly what the Japanese call “forest bathing.” Also known as forest therapy, the idea is simple – take a relaxing walk among some trees.  The benefits to regularly getting outside are immense: boosted immune system, reduced blood pressure, improved mood, increased energy, improved sleep, reduced stress…  Not to mention the forced act of being unplugged, getting to ignore the chaotic and messy state of our homes for a little while, and the necessity to be fully present with our family.

When you’re on an adventure – however simple or complicated it may be – all other distractions fall away.

That’s kind of one of the reasons it feels like suffering… we cannot turn to social media or Netflix or podcasts or friends or shopping or cleaning to distract us from our discomforts.  We have to feel them, sit with them, sink into them, endure them.  And, often, I find that I don’t do this particularly well.  I have gotten out of the practice of doing hard things, of sitting with hard feelings, of enduring difficult moments, because, in normal life, I am always able to find something else to distract me.  But, I want to be challenged. I want to grow.  I only have ONE LIFE; I want to test my limits! I want to stretch my own thoughts about what I’m capable of!  My fears and my insecurities and my reluctance to be uncomfortable are obstacles to me becoming the person I really want to be, so I force myself to get out there.

Here’s the thing: adventuring is so good for the kids, but it is also so good for US. It makes us  tap into a deeper part of our soul that doesn’t really like to be known, doesn’t really like to be challenged.  But just as a grain of wheat must be crushed in order to become bread – something that can nourish and sustain – we, too, must yield to discomfort if we want to rise above ourselves.

You don’t have to be outdoorsy to be adventurous, you just need to be willing to grow.

 

 

 

 

And, occasionally, completely embarrass yourself.