I’ve always believed that we evolved as a successful species in part due to our physical endurance. In order to survive humans had to be in motion. I’d be curious as to what “zones” our ancient predecessors spent their days in. Therefore, it has never seemed logical let alone fulfilling to become sedentary because of modern day devices. I’m 83 and I can remember growing up in the 50’s hearing that inventions of the future do our work for us. I have competed In one sport or another since I joined the YMCA swim team at 11 years old. I’ve had to make adjustments as I’ve aged. I probably won’t race motocross any more, for example. However, a 2.5 hour bike ride at a 12 mph average keeps me moving and lifts my spirit. Building and maintaining our bikes and working as a mechanic in a local bike shop a day or two a week keeps my mind engaged and is part of my social network. During the Winter, we ski both Alpine and XC and my little shop in the basement turns into a wax room where I do my best to turn out fast skis. The bottom line is, I don’t wake up having to decide whether or not to workout or participate in some physical or mental activity. I wake up figuring out what I will do. My goal is to log 10 hours a week and a 100 miles on the bike. I am very grateful for this lifestyle despite some health issues. I try to do what I can to help people around me become aware of the benefits of a life in motion.
Your point about parents borrowing intensity from their children seems especially important. The game gives the adult a clear outcome, a group to belong to, and a reason to care, but the child is the one who actually has to play and live with the consequences. That mismatch helps explain why the investment can become so distorted. The parent gets a rare experience of significance without having direct control over the result.
Another contributor may be how much value we now place on visible, measurable achievement. It is no longer enough in many families for a child to play an instrument, join a team, or enjoy something. They have to make first chair, start, win, or otherwise do better than the next kid. Those outcomes give parents external proof that the activity mattered and perhaps that their parenting mattered. That certainly does not describe everyone, but I believe it has become more common.
The local contribution in your fifth recommendation seems like the strongest antidote. Adults need consequential things of their own to do, ideally with people who would notice if they stopped showing up. Otherwise, the child’s game can remain one of the few places where the parent feels needed, invested, and fully present.
Nothing spoils a good walk like your friend looking at their watch and telling you how many steps they've done, or what 'zone' they are in. The flip side of the parents being 'invested' in their kids, is that they lose perspective. I tell them to try competing before judging their children. Usually keeps them quiet.
Ha yes. And there's research here, measuring stuff reduces it's enjoyment. That doesn't mean never measure. But it does mean when you're on that walk for god's sake man, just be on the walk.
Nothing more annoying than being on a good long run, enjoying the conversation, then having someone start picking it up because they are like 10 seconds too slow for their 'zone.' Just enjoy it.
The bit I'd underline is that the sideline is one of the very few places left where an adult is allowed to care in public without it looking odd. Everywhere else we've agreed to be mildly interested in things. Then a nine-year-old's game hands you ninety minutes where feeling something openly is permitted, and a man with nowhere else to put any of it will spend the whole allowance in one go, usually on a referee. Nobody shouts like that about something they're indifferent to. They shout like that about the only live thing in the week.
I’ve always believed that we evolved as a successful species in part due to our physical endurance. In order to survive humans had to be in motion. I’d be curious as to what “zones” our ancient predecessors spent their days in. Therefore, it has never seemed logical let alone fulfilling to become sedentary because of modern day devices. I’m 83 and I can remember growing up in the 50’s hearing that inventions of the future do our work for us. I have competed In one sport or another since I joined the YMCA swim team at 11 years old. I’ve had to make adjustments as I’ve aged. I probably won’t race motocross any more, for example. However, a 2.5 hour bike ride at a 12 mph average keeps me moving and lifts my spirit. Building and maintaining our bikes and working as a mechanic in a local bike shop a day or two a week keeps my mind engaged and is part of my social network. During the Winter, we ski both Alpine and XC and my little shop in the basement turns into a wax room where I do my best to turn out fast skis. The bottom line is, I don’t wake up having to decide whether or not to workout or participate in some physical or mental activity. I wake up figuring out what I will do. My goal is to log 10 hours a week and a 100 miles on the bike. I am very grateful for this lifestyle despite some health issues. I try to do what I can to help people around me become aware of the benefits of a life in motion.
Your point about parents borrowing intensity from their children seems especially important. The game gives the adult a clear outcome, a group to belong to, and a reason to care, but the child is the one who actually has to play and live with the consequences. That mismatch helps explain why the investment can become so distorted. The parent gets a rare experience of significance without having direct control over the result.
Another contributor may be how much value we now place on visible, measurable achievement. It is no longer enough in many families for a child to play an instrument, join a team, or enjoy something. They have to make first chair, start, win, or otherwise do better than the next kid. Those outcomes give parents external proof that the activity mattered and perhaps that their parenting mattered. That certainly does not describe everyone, but I believe it has become more common.
The local contribution in your fifth recommendation seems like the strongest antidote. Adults need consequential things of their own to do, ideally with people who would notice if they stopped showing up. Otherwise, the child’s game can remain one of the few places where the parent feels needed, invested, and fully present.
Couldn't have said it better. It provides all the things our modern society has gradually taken away or made it hard to do: belonging, caring, etc.
THe social media culture certainly has made it where the visible stuff matters more.
Wonderful stuff as always, Steve.
So good, Steve. Your insights are always spot on.
Thank you.
Thanks so much!
Nothing spoils a good walk like your friend looking at their watch and telling you how many steps they've done, or what 'zone' they are in. The flip side of the parents being 'invested' in their kids, is that they lose perspective. I tell them to try competing before judging their children. Usually keeps them quiet.
Ha yes. And there's research here, measuring stuff reduces it's enjoyment. That doesn't mean never measure. But it does mean when you're on that walk for god's sake man, just be on the walk.
Nothing more annoying than being on a good long run, enjoying the conversation, then having someone start picking it up because they are like 10 seconds too slow for their 'zone.' Just enjoy it.
The bit I'd underline is that the sideline is one of the very few places left where an adult is allowed to care in public without it looking odd. Everywhere else we've agreed to be mildly interested in things. Then a nine-year-old's game hands you ninety minutes where feeling something openly is permitted, and a man with nowhere else to put any of it will spend the whole allowance in one go, usually on a referee. Nobody shouts like that about something they're indifferent to. They shout like that about the only live thing in the week.
"Giving back, helping others, realizing that the world doesn’t revolve around us is often the antidote to the numbness that stalks us."
Powerful and true. My life got meaningfully better when I finally realized, much to my ego's dismay, that I'm not special.