Carrying a Little Extra Weight

by Laurie Wells — December 4, 2006

When I was pregnant, I had grand daydreams of waking each morning and loading up my son into the jogger for a refreshing morning run. I was sure we would spend the weekends hiking the trails in the foothills around my home, and then I would pull him in the bike trailer all over town. Reality turned out to be a slightly different story.

My son was born in the middle of a snowstorm in January, and the next few weeks were a blur of sleepwalking and existing in pure survival mode. It was cold out, and we were new parents, way too nervous to attempt taking our fragile little fella outdoors. But slowly, our small family fell into a routine, and I found myself longing for a little fresh air and at least a bit of exercise. Time outside had always been very grounding for me, and I couldn't think of a point in my life when I needed to feel centered more than this. At my son's two-week checkup, our pediatrician urged us to take him outside, prescribing fresh air and hikes as an excellent source of natural stimulation.

So, with all of us bundled to the hilt, we loaded him up in the front carrier and headed out for an easy walk up a slightly sloping trail. He was still so tiny that I figured the hike would be more for me than for him, but I was amazed to see his reaction to the outside world. Instead of sleeping, he peered with wonder from under all those layers, letting out little sounds of amazement. Instead of focusing on the ache of my atrophied butt, I felt myself rediscovering the sheer joy of being outdoors. Perhaps due to my sleep-deprived state, colors seemed more vivid and the air fresher than ever, and I felt a small part of myself--the part that had always embraced a little sweat as a good way to cleanse the mind--reawaken.

Since then, we have clocked many hours hiking, walking, running, cross-country skiing, swimming, and just plain playing outside. Though the thought of getting together all the things we need for a hike sometimes overwhelms me--sunscreen, hat, diapers, changing pad, snacks, water, a jacket--my efforts are quickly rewarded once we hit the trail. No matter how heavy he feels or how steep the trail, his cries of delight at the sights and sounds surrounding us always bring my thoughts back to how lucky I am to be outdoors.

As my son has grown--he's now 10 months old--he's graduated from the front-side carrier to a full backpack, and now that he's taken his first steps, he's anxious to get down and try a little hiking for himself. As I watch him toddle along and pick up sticks and rocks, I feel gratified that I am passing on my love of Mother Nature. In this crazy busy life, the time my son and I spend enjoying the quiet crunch of our feet on the leaves and the slow pace of climbing a steep hill are a precious and priceless gift.