Growing up, being outdoors wasn’t something I thought much about. It was just part of my daily routine. It was built into our school schedules, of course — my uniform-clad classmates and I spilling outside at every chance, collecting our fair share of skinned knees, gross bugs, and memories.
But after school was when the time really felt like mine. I’d rush home to practice my volleyball technique, play goalie for my next-door neighbor (who, remarkably, signed with the KC Comets in 2023), or stir up witches’ brew: a concoction of flower buds on the verge of blooming, water, and whatever sticks I could find. Despite any warnings re anthills, sharp twigs, etc., I loved running barefoot through the grass, which was almost always a little wet with dew. At least, that’s how I remember it, anyway. And I loved the treehouse my grandma had at her art studio, just across the street from my childhood home, where I could sit, think, and write.
As an adult, being outside isn’t as automatic anymore. Unless your job requires it, you have to choose it intentionally. Even if it’s something you enjoy — biking, pickleball, running the trails — it often becomes secondary to other responsibilities. If you find yourself up against a work deadline, there’s a good chance (if you’re anything like me) that you’ll chain yourself to your desk until it’s done.
Right now, I’m participating in Leadership Columbia with the Chamber of Commerce. For those who may not be familiar with it, LC is a six-month annual program designed to develop and inspire emerging community leaders. Through a mix of engaging and insightful experiences, participants gain a deeper understanding of the opportunities and challenges shaping the community. What I didn’t realize, though, was how much it also teaches you about leading yourself.
One concept that has stuck with me is the rubber-and-glass-ball priniciple, which is a way to think about how we prioritize our time and energy. Imagine you’re juggling both. The rubber balls are the things that can bounce back if dropped, like emails, deadlines, and the day-to-day churn of work. The glass balls are different. They’re the things that, if dropped, don’t recover so easily, like relationships, family, and health.
Inevitably, there are people who struggle to tell the difference between the two. Many others instinctively keep their eyes on the obvious glass balls by making time for loved ones. But our own health — especially mental health — is easier to deprioritize. It may not shatter the first time you drop it, but over time, it wears down, each impact leaving a little more of a fracture until, eventually, it needs real repair.
I’m starting to understand that time outside is one of those glass balls — for all of us. Fortunately, you don’t have to come prepared with an exhaustive list of outdoorsy activities to fulfill this need. Sit out in your yard or on your patio. Let your mind wander a little. Really feel the air, take notice of the season and its beautiful changes, and maybe, for once, allow yourself to do absolutely nothing but breathe.
Every now and then, I catch myself wondering if it was just childhood naivete that made life feel more vibrant and alive. Then I catch myself thinking … maybe I just need to go touch some grass.
