Before I get into this, I need to emphasize the disclaimer that I’m not a big fan of the idea of a Sports Illustrated catwalk fashion show, where models show off the latest swim wear. Perhaps marginally less objectifying than the swimsuit issue itself (which is clearly not about the swimsuits but about the models and has nothing to do with sports), its emphasis still appears to be more on the bodies than the fashion.

But that aside, if you’re going to do it, then why not represent a diversity of shapes and sizes.  That’s what a Sports Illustrated swimsuit fashion show in Miami did recently. And it sparked a debate in Australia, as reported by the BBC news. Objecting to including plus sized models in the show, columnist Soraiya Fuda of Sydney’s Daily Telegraph, wrote:

“If the fashion industry decides to stop using models who appear to have starved themselves to skin and bones – as they should – they shouldn’t then choose to promote an equally unhealthy body shape.”

The president of the Australian Medical Association also chimed in, comparing “overweight” models to models walking down the catwalk smoking cigarettes. His point: both send an “unhealthy” message.  We should not, in his words,”celebrate obesity.”

Professor John Dixon, head of clinical obesity research at the Baker IDI Heart and Diabetes Institute advocates for body diversity among models. He says:

“We know the stigma associated with obesity is so strong that we should respect people who are obese for their ability to feel good, look good and dress well,”

The fact is, people come in all shapes and sizes. We have said a number of times on the blog that it is possible to be both fit and fat. And in any case, let’s be clear. fashion shows are not trying to represent “health” anyway. They set the normative ideals for our society’s conceptions of beauty. For a long, long time, the ultra thin beauty ideal is about all we ever saw in the fashion industry.

Clothes were made to fit thin, lean bodies. If you weren’t of the normative body type, it was (and still is) more challenging to find comfortable, stylish clothes that fit. Having a diversity of body types represented on catwalks is a win in the sense that it sends a message that beauty is not one size fits all.

To promote this idea in the most revealing of all items — the swimsuit — is a radical move. If the fashion industry doesn’t just represent beauty but actually has a significant influence on its construction, then presenting attractive swimwear for larger bodies and modelling it as such is an extraordinary break from past practice.

What are your thoughts on body diversity in catwalk modelling, particularly but not exclusively for swimsuits? (I recognize this as a loaded question because many of us have complicated feelings about catwalk modelling of swimsuits more generally)

I am in training for my third degree black belt in ITF Taekwondo.

I can kick higher than my own head. I can escape from a choke hold. I can break boards with my fists and my feet.

I am still training myself to be seen.

There are a variety of issues that women tend to bring to the martial arts. I’m not saying these things are innate and I’m not saying every female martial artist has them, but I’ve seen them often enough to call them a trend. And, I know that they affect me.

Most of us have been socialized against being loud, against being authoritative, against hitting or being hit. When we spar, we often ‘go easy’ on each other and apologize too quickly – even when no harm has been done. We carry the curse of that social conditioning, the need to be ‘good girls’, into our classes and it doesn’t serve us well. I try to coach other students out of it, and, I try to stop myself from doing it, but it doesn’t always work.

In almost every other context, I am quick to take charge, to step up. I know what my skills are and I am willing to show them. Yet, in Taekwondo, I have found myself reluctant to take charge of the warm-up, and hesitant to be the one to demonstrate the next movement. I have held myself back from a triumphant shout at the end of a pattern. I have made self-deprecating jokes about my skills and I have attributed my successes to luck.

I know better than all of this, of course. I know my TKD patterns. I know the warm-ups. I can demonstrate what to do. I have worked very hard to be where I am and I know what I am doing – even if I can’t always make my body do what my mind understands. I am much, much better at putting myself out there than I was when I started.

Yet, still, I struggle.

I have a second degree black belt and I am still having trouble letting myself be seen in class.

Sure, I have mostly gotten over my reluctance to be loud but, if I am at all uncertain of my pattern, I find myself quiet at the end.

Yes, I have become suitably aggressive when I spar but I hold back more often than I’d like. Especially if I think my partner might perceive me as ‘too rough.’

When I don’t quite understand what to do, I still find myself stepping back from taking up too much of my instructors’ time.

Even though I know where it all comes from, and, that it is hard to undo that kind of social conditioning, I still get annoyed with myself about it.

That’s why I’ve decided that, along with my physical training for my third degree belt test, I am also training myself to be seen. I am going to learn to be okay with being the one who demonstrates the patterns. I am going to find a way to confidently stand in front of my peers and lead the warm-up. I will get over myself.

Earning my third degree black belt will take a lot of physical effort but teaching myself to be willing to be seen is going to take many, many acts of courage. I have already invited my instructors to call on me more often, to ask me to show what I know. Now, I just need enough practice so I feel okay with following through.

I am determined to be a different type of ‘good girl’ this year. I am going to be a good example of how women can show up, go all in, and claim their skills and their knowledge. I am going to be the person that the other girls and women can point to and say ‘If SHE can do it, so can I.’

KIYA!

Christine Hennebury is a storyteller, writer, creative life coach, and, martial artist who lives in Newfoundland and Labrador. She is the founder and Chair of the Association for the Arts in Mount Pearl and the President of the St. John’s Storytelling Festival. She wishes she could help you be a little kinder to yourself – you are doing just fine.

It’s been about two years, maybe a little more, since I literally threw out my scale. It was old. I think it was my mother’s scale in the house I grew up in. It migrated to my bathroom in my teens somehow and I just kept lugging it around with me.

I can’t say that my scale and I had a horrible relationship. In fact, until I joined this community and started to pay attention to assumptions about health, fitness, weight and acceptance, I didn’t give it a lot of thought. I dutifully weighed myself nearly every day for most of my life mostly, I thought, out of curiosity.

Now it is true, if I am completely honest with you, that there were a few years where the scale gave some useful reflective information. It was a time in my life that I lost a lot of weight. Why did I lose this weight? Divorce, a super messy one at that. I lost so much weight that my hair started to fall out (it never really recovered). I could not get the weight to come back to my body as my anxiety and stress ate my guts out and made me nauseous with every swallow. I’d get on that scale and hope there was more to me almost every day. For the longest time there was not.

Eventually, the divorce chaos calmed down and I was able to get hold of myself. When I say “get hold of myself” I’m not talking about my ability or inability to eat. I talking about actually finding myself and who I was. This is not a cliche. That is seriously what happened. It was the confidence that I was me and me was okay and I was going to be just fine that allowed me to start eating normally again and not to have each bit of nutrition go up in a flare of despair induced combustion.

My scale returned to a neutral item.

But I have a daughter.

And I found all these people who think gloriously and critically about the assumptions I swallowed about what the scale says and why we should or perhaps should not listen.

My scale didn’t vanish from my life immediately but I did start to wonder why it was there. I went up a pound. I went down a pound. Not much changed for me because of those things. Things changed because I started a therapy practice and I ran 5k and I biked all over the place and I rode horses and did pilates and and. . .that stuff. Life stuff. I loved my kids and they grew and I loved my partner and friends and all those things grew and changed. None of it had any relationship to the scale any more and the scale had nothing to say to me about the quality of my life.

I started to hear it’s actual voice, or maybe my voice, some part of my voice, when I stepped on the thing. I went up a pound (aw. . .sadface). I went down a pound (yay. . .happyface). I was already writing for this blog ad hoc. I was deep into a new understanding of what exercise means in my life and in the lives of other people around me and nothing was about pounds. I had worked to stop seeing health and food in moral terms for my clients. I stopped accepting “I want you to help me lose weight” as a goal in therapy. But there I was on the scale a little “yay” and a little “boo” depending on what it told me.

So I threw it out.

Nothing changed.

Except it is quieter in my head in the bathroom in the morning.

by Alison Reiheld

My 9 year old, who we refer to as Son 2 on the internet, is a bikes lover. A year and a half ago, he got a superb little road bike, about as small as they come.  For his birthday last year, we got him his own cycling kit, padded butt and back pockets and all.  By Christmas, he had a second one. He loves riding with his dad (my spouse) who is on a local cycling team who loves Son 2 almost as much as we do. But since they cycle so much more and so much longer than I usually do, Son 2 and I don’t usually share this thing, and we have almost never shared it without my husband also being present. The only exception is biking the perimeter of Mackinac Island in the summers, and that is delightful but only about 7 miles around.  I am pretty sure the farthest I had ever ridden with them was 12 miles. Most of my fitness is walking or hiking with a little running and some weight-lifting thrown in.

Every year, my husband stays home and takes care of the house and/or goes to take pictures on the summer airshow circuit while the boys and I and my mom and brother and his family all go up to the northern part of the mitten (near Traverse City, MI). Last year on our trip we noticed a lovely paved trail running alongside US-31 from Charlevoix up to Petoskey and parts beyond. I promised Son 2 we would bike it this summer.  And lo and behold, we both remembered that promise. The trail turns out to be called the Little Traverse Wheelway, and offers a whole range of possible segments with parks and views of the lake and elevation variations.

So we went to a cool place called Right Tree Adventure Rental (non-trivial feature for this venue: Right Tree rental fees are actually donations to Right Tree which does physical activity and confidence-building for young women, and is staffed almost entirely by young women) in Elk Rapids, MI. We’ve rented kayaks from them in the past, but never bikes.  No road bikes to be seen.

But ah, plenty of right-sized multi-geared hybrids and mountain bikes. Harder work than a good light roadbike, but better than a fixie every time and more pleasant on an un-kitted backside than a roadbike would have been.

So what happens when a 41 year old fat academic who likes to think of herself as fit but not really into cycling goes cycling on non-ideal equipment with a bike loving 9 year old who routinely bikes farther than she does? Awesomeness happens. A good time ensues.

Before we even reached the trail segment we chose as our starting place, we stopped at the World’s Largest Cherry Pie and saw the Charlevoix drawbridge go up to allow a whole passel of masted boats and large yachts to pass from the harbor to the lake.

Our starting point was a MDOT park just off of M-31 a bit outside of Charlevoix with parking, restrooms, picnic tables, and lake access as well as an old-fashioned water pump that brings up earth-cold delicious water for which we would be all too grateful in a few hours.

We hydrated up, had a few Pringles for good measure in anticipation of sweating our salt out, watched the waves wash up on the rocks, and headed out with brimmed caps responsibly worn under our bike helmets to keep the sweat out of our eyes and the sun from our pupils.

The first mile or two north from there is right alongside the lake, either just up on the shore or a few hundred feet in through trees and widlflowers.  Sometimes I led, and sometimes son 2 took lead. Here he is way out front early on.

Then, the steady climb up towards the bluffs above the harbor in Petoskey begins with a gentle up and down that is cumulatively, well… up.  The alert cyclist knows what this means for the ride back. All along the trail, butterflies and grasshoppers were out in force. On a fast downhill segment, I caught one bruisingly on my closed lips before it bounced off to the side; never suck wind with your mouth open through insect-filled air. I was a centimeter of open lips away from something much more surprising.

The segments with trail right next to the water had the sussuration of waves loud enough to drown out traffic on nearby M-31, and on a bright blue day like we had, there was plenty to see and hear and smell along the whole course of our chosen segment: the sun-hot fields of clover and wildflowers smelled delicious, dogs and people were wading and splashing in the water, the temperature changed as we rode sun-dappled trails from shadow into sun into shadow, back into sun again.

Periodically, benches could be found alongside the path. A dentist’s office had a cooler next to the trail with a sign that said “Water! Help yourself and enjoy the ride!” It was laminated for repeated use.

Not too far from our turnaround point, the trail passed an architecturally unhorrible strip mall which held a Coney Dogs shop so we stopped for a hot dog for Son 2 and veggie-loaded mac and cheese for me. It was a perfect interlude.  There were more flush toilets available at parks and gas stations along the way than we needed (lack of publically accessible toilets is a perpetual problem for distance cyclists, as I understand it). We turned around at East Park in Petoskey, at mile 9-and-a-bit.

If we had kept going, we’d have been able to check out Petoskey and its even more spectacular even bluffier overlooks. Here we are ready to head back and do it all again.

Just to our left in the image, there was a trailside fresh sweet cherry stand staffed by a young teen where we could have bought sugary deliciousness and had a pit-spitting contest if we’d wanted to, had we not just eaten.

With the bay near Petoskey in the background and East Park below, we took a sweaty selfie and headed back. Being up on the bluff at our turnaround point meant that the 9+ miles back to our car at the lakeside MDOT park where we’d started would be overall downhill. I did not cry salty tears at the prospect. More than one “whee!” was uttered by us both at various points on the ride out and back, and I confess to having fully abused the privilege of a long echo-y tunnel at one point, yelling “echoooooo!” multiple times with a startling and persistent lack of originality. We saw two monarchs spiraling up tens of feet into the air in a magnificent helix, and smelled hot pine more than once.

One of the best things about having an older elementary, middle, or high school kid in your life is that they may have hobbies you think aren’t for you. Or aren’t as much for you. And yet you try those activities anyway. And lo, they are good and provide experiences you wouldn’t otherwise have had. Not only do I do physical things I might not otherwise do, we see museums I might not otherwise choose and play games I might not otherwise play (I wouldn’t say I am good at Pokemon and Magic: The Gathering, but I am better than I have been since I played MTG in college).

If you are ever up in the TC/Charlevoix/Petoskey/Mackinac area, I highly recommend the Little Traverse Wheelway for a family ride because it can be divided into workable segments almost irrespective of fitness level. See the map at the top of this post for how this could be done. For the most fit, the total length can be as long as 23 miles, for a 46 mile roundtrip with lots of up and down from lake level to bluffs and back again, through forests and suburbs and boardwalk over swamp and charming town and the Victorian section of Petoskey as well as the sort of lakeside and bluff views we loved best.  There are loads of other trails up in these parts, as well.

We pushed ourselves, both of us, at a total of nearly 19 miles (about 30k) on hybrids with unaccustomed gearing.

And we both agreed that it was lovely. The mark of a good bike ride is, I expect, that one is tired but still having fun.  Son 2 agrees this is definitely what happened. And he agrees that the cold well water was “delicious.” He put as much on his face as he did in his water bottle.

When things are beautiful and the company is relentlessly enthusiastic , I can work a lot harder than I usually do and still have a darn good time.

And so can my kid.

I commend it to you.

For the first time in years I don’t have a goal race or event in view.  Ever since Anita and I had our not-fun half marathon in late May I’ve taken a time out from training for. Instead, I’ve opted to enjoy running without a specific goal in mind.

This goes totally against what I had learned from my coach, Linda, through the half marathon training. When I started working with Linda she emphasized the importance of having each run have a purpose. I liked that. Instead of just running, her training plans made me feel as if I was training.  There were intervals and tempo runs and long slow runs. Each assignment had a pace goal and a time goal. Something to work towards.

But after the half marathon I wanted to dial it down. Way down. In fact, sometimes, like when I was in Edinburgh, I didn’t even use my Garmin. I just ran for a while and then came back and had a shower. Since I had no goal race, not training for anything in particular, I didn’t have to try to be faster or go further or anything. That’s a big “pro” of not having anything specific in view.

In a word, it made me feel free and easy about my runs.

But it’s also a “con.” Goals motivate. Maybe sometimes the motivation feels a bit “stick” like, but it’s a motivation nonetheless. When we were training for the half, knowing that I would be running a half in six, five, four, three, two, one week got me to do things I didn’t even think I could, like run a kilometer in under six minutes (just one, mind you).

I’ve now been running for two full months with no goal and it’s getting a bit tired. It’s fit well with my hectic travel schedule, since goal-less running is a good fit when on the road. But I think I’m ready to focus on something again.

Violetta and Rebecca have both talked to me about fall half marathons. I know Rebecca is stoked to do the Potamac Half in late October. It was hard to turn down the allure of an event that bills itself as “the easiest half marathon in America,” but I don’t think I can make it. I’m also not sure I want to train for a half.

Instead, I think I’m going to go for either the MEC 10K on October 21 or the Halloween Haunting on October 28.

Either way, it’ll give me something to work toward. I had my fastest 10K time ever in the 2014 Halloween Haunting, just after my 50th birthday, the lead up to which I’d engaged in the most intensive training period of my life prepping for the two Olympic distance triathlons that season.

So that’s the new plan.

Obviously, whether you do better with a goal depends on what you run for. I know people for whom actual events just don’t even figure into their running equation. They run not for times or training but to clear their head, gain a sense of well-being, feel energized and healthy, or even to get their creative juices flowing for a writing project or some other creative undertaking.

What about you? Do you think you do better with or without a goal event?

Almost 4 years ago I suffered from a grade 3 concussion and a related neck injury. Two summers ago, my rehabilitation team suggested that I was finally well enough to start running again.

I waited about a few weeks before I tried. It was a warm day toward the end of July. I decided to get up early and just give it a shot. I dragged my partner along with me for support. Despite my deep desire to run, I was terrified by the thought of running again. I was afraid it would send me into a downstream of brain and neck injury related symptoms.

Things started out well. I ran at a decent pace and felt very little strain. In fact, my cardiovascular system seemed to be fairly intact. Being the type C person that I am, that is, a type A person with a strong shot of optimism (see here), I decided to push a little harder and to run up a hill. By the time I was up the hill, I was in pain. Trying to be breezy about it all, I simply told my partner that I was ready to stop.

It was only when I went back home and grabbed an ice pack that I realized just how much I had overdone it. My optimism had led me to push it too far. It wasn’t the mild neck pain that I had been battling for months. It was the “I’m on fire” and “I need it stop now or I am going to totally freak out” sort of pain that I dreaded. The pain downgraded to a bearable level after I continued to ice it, have a few hot showers, and take some pain meds.

The pain continued to irk me for another month or two. At the time, I was going through some pretty big life changes (moving, starting a new job) and so I decided to delay my return to running.

A few months later, after I was more settled, I essentially did the same thing. I started a run, this time without my partner. Things went well at the beginning, but by the time I was done I was in pain and the pain lasted for another month or two. This was enough to turn me off running for another two years.

More recently, after the semester ended this year, I decided to try again. This time around, I decided to try a treadmill. It was clear that when I was left to myself I pushed too hard. This time I promised myself to run slowly and to start with two-minute increments alternating between running and walking.

After the first run, I had a major migraine, which completely knocked me out for a day (think nausea, light and noise sensitivity, and dizziness). I wasn’t sure if it was related to the running or something else. Mustering some courage, I waited a day and then tried again. It went well enough. I was optimistic and I continued running in the same way, keeping my speed slow and alternating between running and walking.

By the end of the month, I was able to run every other day, increasing the time I spent running while also increasing my speed. Now, a few months later, I’m able to run around a 5k continuously at pretty decent speed and with little to no pain.

In some ways running on a treadmill isn’t what I was aiming for when I started running again. I love being outside, in the breeze and under the blue sky. But try as I might – and I’ve continued to try – when I run outside, I don’t do well. It’s likely because I’m still battling some balance and vision issues that stem from my head injury. Being outside, with many visual focal points, somehow complicates these issues for me.

As time has passed, I’ve come to be happy with my treadmill in the basement. It took numerous tries, and I’m not running what I used to be able to run or where I’d ideally like to be running, but I’m happy. I’m doing something that I love, something I wasn’t sure I’d ever be able to do again.

Meena Krishnamurthy is an Assistant Professor of Philosophy at the University of Michigan.  She can be seen walking or sometimes running slowly in the lovely neighborhood of Kerrytown in Ann Arbor, Michigan.  She is often accompanied by her reassuring husband, spunky 9 year-old daughter, and extremely cute dog.

In July of last year I heard about an initiative Ontario Parks was hosting for the month of August: the 30 x 30 Nature Challenge. The 30 x 30 concept was created by the David Suzuki Foundation in 2012 with a goal “to reconnect human beings with nature for the sake of their health and mental well-being.” The challenge is a simple one: spend 30 minutes a day in nature, every day for 30 days. I did not think the Challenge would be at all challenging for me. (It’s unusual for me to spend less than 30 minutes in nature any day except during the most inclement weather.) But I decided to participate because I thought the 30 x 30 concept was a great one to promote.

The first day of the Challenge I did not do anything special. I had almost 200 litres of apples littering my back yard (early windfall from one very large tree). The apples needed to be collected, and it took me 3 hours to do so. So I was outside in nature that day for 6 times the 30 minutes asked for by the Challenge.

August 2nd was just a normal day for me too. I took my dogs for a walk. I live in a small town with many trees on just about every street in my neighbourhood, so even the (almost) everyday occurrence of walking my dogs is time spent in nature.

So far, my 30 x 30 Challenge was shaping up to be just as non-eventful as I had expected. Then, late in the day on August 2nd, I experienced something that threatened to derail my participation in the challenge: an episode of benign paroxysmal positional vertigo (BPPV).

I was nearing the end of my daily yoga asana practice when a change in the orientation of my head set off the vertigo. This was not such a problem for my yoga practice that night as all I had left to do was shavasana (a pose which does not provoke the vertigo). But I was worried about what the BPPV meant for my participation in the 30 x 30 Challenge (not to mention my personal challenge of practising yoga asana every day for a year—a goal I was at that time only 2 weeks away from achieving). I’d only experienced one episode of BPPV prior to that night. That previous episode had lasted for 7 days and been so bad I’d been unable to do anything for the first 2 days other than lie on my back and stare straight up at the ceiling. I crawled into bed—slowly—and hoped the BPPV would not be so bad this time.

I got my wish. When I awoke on August 3rd, I still had vertigo, but my condition had improved to about where I was at on the 4th day of my previous BPPV episode. I was able to sit up, and even to walk—albeit slowly and without turning my head—without triggering the vertigo. I did not feel up to doing anything too energetic, but I made it outside for my 30 minutes in the evening, sitting on a lawn chair to watch the fireflies dance, listen to the crickets chirp and the frogs sing, and gaze up at the outline of tree branches arching over my head, creating dark patches in the starry night sky. (I also got in my yoga practice by doing a few minutes of gentle, restorative poses on my back.)

By the morning of August 4th, my BPPV episode had cleared up entirely. My neighbourhood was caught in the grip of a fierce heat wave, however, with a humidex pushing 40C. I was grateful to have yard work to do that involved the use of a garden hose.

August 5th saw me doing more yard work—harvesting fruit this time. On the 6th I was out of town most of the day, visiting friends in London. I took the opportunity to do some rollerskating on the paved trails which wind through town alongside the Thames River, passing through a network of urban green spaces that provide Londoners with excellent opportunities to get outside and experience nature without ever having to leave the city.

[Laura shows off her rainbow roller skating attire (and a baby bruise from early in her roller derby career).]

Then our heat wave returned.

I spent the next 6 days of the Challenge looking for ways to get outside and still beat the heat. I enjoyed a campfire cookout one night and a late night hike with my dogs the next. On August 9th I arose bright and early and drove down to Lake Erie to do some sunrise yoga on the beach. On the 10th I stayed inside through the hottest part of the day but returned to the beach in the evening for some sunset yoga. The temperature down by the lake was much more pleasant than in town where I live.

[Laura salutes the setting sun during a yoga session on the beach at Erieau.]

I returned to the lake again on the next two days, to a different, darker beach, in the wee hours of the morning to watch the Perseid meteor shower. I even tried my hand at a little long-exposure night sky photography on the second night.

[Not the greatest of photos, but I did catch a couple of Perseids.]

Then, on August 13th, we had rain. Glorious rain! It was such a welcome relief after the previous week’s heat, I spent my 30 minutes dancing in it.

[Laura enjoys dancing in the rain.]

On August 14th I enjoyed another wet 30 x 30 activity, returning to the beach at Erieau for a swim. On the 15th I stayed closer to home and visited my local “Fit Park” for a workout. I’d seen these outdoor fitness parks cropping up in a number of communities in recent years and was thrilled when even my small town (population < 5000 people) got one. They’re a great addition to public green spaces and a great strength-training opportunity for people who perhaps cannot afford the cost of a gym membership or just prefer to get a little dose of nature with their workout.

[Laura checks out the workout equipment in her local Fit Park.]

August 16th was the final day of my “Yoga Asana Every Day for a Year” challenge (which I blogged about here: https://fitisafeministissue.com/2016/08/18/366-days-of-yoga-guest-post/). To celebrate, I treated myself to a full day at home yoga retreat. So, naturally, my 30 x 30 Challenge activity was yoga too. I took my handstand practice outside and was rewarded with the closest thing to a freestanding handstand I had ever, up until that point, achieved: I kicked up and “caught air” for longer than 1 second!

[Laura practises her handstands outside: not quite there yet, but getting closer!]

After completing over 6 hours of yoga asana practice at my home retreat, I decided to take a more physically restful day the next day and spent some time writing in the woods for my 30 x 30 activity.

[Laura takes a break from her desk with a writing session in the embrace of an old tree.]

I did not run much during the 30 x 30 Challenge due to high heat and humidity, but I took advantage of the light cast by the full moon to go for a night run around my local marsh on the 18th. The following day, I stayed home and spent my time in nature playing with my dogs in our back yard. And on the 20th I stayed home as well to do more yard work (juicing apples this time—which I always do outside due to the mess).

August 21st I set up my slackline and did some yoga slacking between the trees on my front lawn.

[Laura attempts some yoga poses on her slackline.]

On August 22nd I cycled to my local conservation area and hiked around for 2.5 hours, taking in the sights. I took many close-up photographs, seeking out as many different colours as I could find amongst the fruit, flowers and insects of the conservation area.

[Colourful fruits, flowers, and insects of C.M. Wilson Conservation Area.]

A month-long nature adventure would not be complete for me without camping. But I had neither the time nor the money necessary to head off into the wilderness. So I pitched my tent in my own back yard.

[Laura’s golden retriever, Trudy, was happy to camp out too.]

The morning of August 24th I stayed outside to enjoy breakfast in the yard. On the 25th I spent some time gardening, tending to my tomato plants. On the 26th I went for another nature hike, this time around a small marsh which is walking distance from my home. As I’d focussed primarily on sight and colour during my hike in the conservation area, I decided to take this hike a bit differently and concentrated on experiencing the textures of nature. I left the gravel path and walked right at the edge of the marsh so I could touch the plants and feel the waxy, ribbed petals of the marsh mallows; the prickly thistles with soft petals at their tips, some turned already into fluffy seeds; the suede-like hides of the bulrushes with their hard, round stems, pointy tips, and smooth, flat leaves; and the delicate blossoms of Queen Anne’s lace, some now curled up into clusters of tiny oval fruits fringed with delicate spines. I also wore minimalist shoes so I could feel the ground beneath my feet and better feel the differences between unyielding, dry ground and squishy, wet ground; soft, uniform grass and hard, uneven reeds.

[Marsh mallows, thistles, Queen Anne’s lace, and bulrushes provided interesting tactile experiences on a marsh hike.]

August 27th brought another day of rain, this time with thunder and lightening and threats of high winds, torrential downpours, flash floods and hail: all the severe weather events one doesn’t want to get caught in far away from shelter. So I stayed home and spent my 30 minutes in nature enjoying the storm from the safety of my backyard patio.

As I’d already eaten breakfast and dinner outside earlier in the month, I decided on the 28th it was time for a picnic lunch.

[Laura enjoys a picnic lunch under the trees in her backyard.]

On August 29th I got outside bright and early to take advantage of the cooler early morning temperature to go for a run. I chose for my route my favourite trail in town, which winds through a small woodlot behind one of the local public schools. It is the only publicly accessible forested trail in the town where I live. Though this trail is short (I run multiple loops of it when I go), it is a huge blessing to me. It is a blessing in the heat of the summer when I want to go for a run but need some protection from the sun’s sweltering rays. It’s also a blessing in the winter when the trees provide an effective windbreak to shelter me from bitter cold windchill. The trail is a blessing in the spring when rainfall releases so many wonderful aromas from the forest floor. And it’s a blessing in the autumn too: Running in a forest when the colours have turned and leaves have begun to fall, forming a soft, fragrant and colourful carpet beneath my feet is one of my favourite things!

When I reached the woodlot on this morning, I saw that a new sign had been erected at the trail head.

[The sign reads:

“The woodlot before you was once just a grassy playing field. That changed in the 1970s when Bill MacIntosh, a former principal of Harwich Raleigh Public School along with Pop Drewery and Glen Meredith, led the school staff in planting hundreds of little trees.

“Then in the early 1990s, a Harwish Raleigh teacher, Cheryl Wolting, realized the mature woodlot’s potential. She linked the woodlot to the school curriculum and organized the students and staff in creating walking paths. A local farmer, Doug Flook and his family helped trim the paths and trees for over 20 years when the municipality of Chatham-Kent assumed the maintenance.

“This woodlot is an example of individuals working together to make a positive difference for everyone.”]

I had not known the history of the trail before the sign was installed and felt upon reading it immense gratitude for all the people who understood the importance of giving humans access to nature and chose to invest so much of their own time, energy and other resources to make this trail possible for our entire community.

For the final day of my 30 x 30 Nature Challenge I returned to the shore of Lake Erie once more, this time to sit and meditate on all of my experiences taking the Challenge.

[Lake Erie at twilight.]

I sat on the rocks by the water’s edge and enjoyed the sound of the waves crashing against the rocks, the fresh lakeside air, and the fading colours of twilight. Then I hiked the trail that runs between Lake Erie and McGeachy Pond, climbed the lookout tower and enjoyed the view from the top of the tower as the stars began to come out.

When I first embarked on my 30 x 30 Nature Challenge I had not expected the Challenge to have much of an effect on me. The Challenge, after all, was not challenging for me. I could complete it without making any adjustments to my regular everyday life activities. I did make the decision at the outset to attempt to complete as many different “outside in nature” activities over the course of the 30 days as I could within the confines of my limited budget. I’d expected to have some fun with this. But that was about it.

I’d been wrong.

When I sat down at the end of the month to reflect on my experiences over the past 30 days I found that the 30 x 30 Nature Challenge had in fact had a profound effect on me. I’ve always enjoyed spending time in nature and have for as far back as I can remember conceived of myself as someone who appreciates the natural world and the value of spending time in it. But in taking the time to reflect on my experiences during the Challenge, and to think of so many different ways I could experience and appreciate time in nature, I found that my relationship with nature became much more mindful. I’m more aware now of all the small opportunities to experience nature that present themselves in my everyday life and less likely to take them for granted. I think too that the Challenge taught me to have more gratitude for the opportunities I enjoy, both big and small, to spend time in nature.

I’ll be taking the 30 x 30 Nature Challenge again this year, beginning on August 1st. I hope you’ll join me!