There’s No Such Thing as Bad Weather

by Linda Åkeson McGurk

  One of the reasons why many American parents like to enroll their children in as many sports as possible is that they don’t want them to become sedentary, gaming-addicted couch surfers. This is well-intended and, in the age of record childhood obesity rates and gloomy slogans like “Sitting is the new smoking,” completely understandable. But according to a review of current research on youth sports from the American College of Sports Medicine, it’s not possible to establish that playing sports actually prevents obesity. (Part of the problem seems to be that whatever calories the kids burn playing sports, they make up for by eating more junk food and drinking more sugary drinks, racking up more total calories than their non-sporty peers.)

  Exercise is of course beneficial to a child whether he or she is overweight or not, but if little Johnny doesn’t want to play soccer or T-ball or peewee football, it may be comforting to know that he is just as well off (and less likely to get injured) if he simply spends time playing outside. A study by the University of Copenhagen showed that children actually got more exercise while playing freely outdoors than when they participated in organized sports. Glen Nielsen, a sports researcher who led the study, put accelerometers on five hundred children in Denmark and five hundred children in New Zealand, then tracked their activity over three days. Unexpectedly, he found that the children got most of their exercise at recess or recreation centers, or from simply playing in the neighborhood, while organized sports made only a small contribution to the overall level of activity.

  But not all outdoor free play is created equal. The more versatile and varied the outdoor environment is, the longer children will stay outside, and the more physically active they will be. This can in turn contribute to slimmer waistlines. When a research team in Sweden compared children at nine different preschools, they discovered that the longer the children played in high-quality outdoor environments—meaning places with plenty of trees, shrubs, rocks, and hills—the more likely they

  were to have a normal body mass index and the less likely

  they were to be overweight. Moreover, when Ingunn Fjørtoft, a professor at Telemark University in Porsgrunn, Norway, compared five- to seven-year-olds at three different kindergartens in Norway, she found that those who played in the forest daily had significantly better balance and coordination than children who only played on a traditional playground. Once again, the reason is believed to be that children are faced with more complex physical challenges in nature, and that this boosts their motor skills and overall fitness.

  “Children who spend a lot of time in nature have stronger hands, arms, and legs and significantly better balance than children who rarely get to move freely in natural areas. In nature children use and exercise all the different muscle groups,” Ellneby, the preschool teacher, notes. “Children will themselves choose to exercise their joints and muscles, if only given the opportunity.”

  Another advantage of having less structured and more child-led activities is that it can improve children’s executive functioning. Essentially, this makes them better able to delay gratification, show self-control, and set and reach their own goals. Overscheduling children, whether it is with organized sports, clubs, or other adult-led activities, also means that they are missing out on the benefits of being bored. Too many stimuli means little time for the mind to rest and recover. And, frankly, little time for kids to figure out who they are and what they want. In the US, this busyness begins already in the early years, but it doesn’t end there. Rather, the wheels of after-school activities seem to spin even faster—on top of an increasing homework load—the closer the students get to college.

  Jesper Juul, a renowned Danish family therapist and the author of Your Competent Child: Toward New Basic Values for the Family, who has challenged many traditional parenting tenets, claims that boredom is key to achieving better balance within yourself, regardless of age. Boredom can even foster creativity, and not just the type that you would normally find in an art class. “Creative periods are full of reflective, almost meditative, pauses . . . that offer peace and recuperation,” Juul writes. “This makes [children] more independent and leads to greater social competence.”

  So what is Juul’s advice to parents who feel pressured to constantly entertain their children and provide them with an endless buffet of activities? “When your child comes to you and says he’s so ‘booored,’ give him a hug and tell him, ‘Good luck, my friend! I look forward to seeing what you get up to.’”

  The End of Winter

  * * *

  In the US, Maya had been active in Girl Scouts, and both girls had periodically gone to swim class and ridden horses, but neither one had expressed any interest in organized sports. We didn’t watch TV during the workweek, and aside from homework, their schedules were pretty open. Our backyard had picturesque deciduous woods with a small creek running through them, and several nature play areas where I had helped the girls build forts out of sticks and little houses for fairies and other imaginary forest critters.

  But providing them with the perfect conditions for outdoor play and all the boons for healthy development that came with it was one thing. Getting them to actually go outside and play was something else.

  Before I became a mother, I had a somewhat romanticized idea that my children would spend their afternoons playing freely outside until they got called in for dinner at nightfall, much as I had done when I was little. Before we went to Sweden, this had happened exactly once. Usually they were back inside long before the pot was boiling.

  Considering my daughters’ not-so-stellar track records when it comes to independent outdoor play, I’m curious to see how Nora in particular is going to handle the routine at her new preschool. Is she going to start screaming at the teachers that she hates her snow pants? Sink down into a writhing ball on the floor when it’s time to play outside? Demand to be carried when her class walks to places outside the school yard? After a couple of weeks, I pull Barbro, one of the preschool teachers, aside and ask her how things are going—specifically, how Nora is coping with all the outdoor play. “I haven’t noticed her complaining,” Barbro says. “Then again, all the kids go outside, so it’s not really up for discussion.”

  This is great news, but at home I initially don’t notice much change. Nora still prefers to stay inside on the weekends, and getting her to go outside requires considerable effort on my part. Walking places is a gamble, which on more than one occasion ends with her dramatically claiming a sudden ailment and me copping out by giving her a piggyback ride to the car or house. Unless there is a game, a visit to the playground, or the promise of hot chocolate involved, Nora is simply not all that interested in outdoor recreation. But since we’re in Sweden I think I may just have the right fix for that.

  In France, children are steeped in a culture of haute cuisine and learn to devour delicacies like blue cheese and escargots from an early age. In Scandinavia, they’re instead immersed in outdoor activities, both at school and at home. From skiing and ice-skating in the winter to hiking and riding bikes in the summer, knowing how to get around outdoors is considered an essential part of a well-rounded education. Parents have many reasons for instilling this spirit of friluftsliv in their children, maybe primarily because it’s a fun way to stay healthy and do things together as a family. For many Scandinavians it’s also the highest form of appreciation of nature, and it can only be passed down to the next generation through firsthand experience.

  I don’t remember the first time I stood on a pair of Nordic skis, but I’m pretty sure a love for nature was not the first thing that came to mind. Cross-country and downhill skiing both require their fair share of stamina, athleticism, and balance, but although Nordic skiing is easier to master, it lacks the kind of primal thrill that only standing at the top of a wind-battered mountain seconds before you drop in on a black-diamond run can evoke. And then there is the fact that there is no lift to help you get over the hills. If downhill skiing is a given kid-pleaser—full of adrenaline and ins
tant rewards—its cross-country cousin is more of an acquired taste that may or may not grow on you over time.

  I hadn’t cross-country skied for close to two decades, but when in Sweden, you do as the Swedes do. And they were out in the woods hitting the cross-country tracks. As winter was starting to come to an end, I figured it was high time for Maya and Nora to go through this rite of passage as well. I dug out my old gear from my sister’s shed and borrowed two sets of skis for Maya and Nora. They had learned how to downhill ski in Michigan and Montana at the ages of five and three, respectively, but I’d never had the opportunity to teach them how to cross-country ski. I wasn’t sure what they would think—at this point they had already ditched the alpine skis for snowboards, since these were “much cooler” than regular skis. Cross-country skiing can be a lot of things, but cool is not an adjective that is normally associated with it. By introducing them to downhill skiing so early in life, I wondered if I had forever killed their desire to even try cross-country skiing. I also knew that although outdoor sports can be a wonderful way to bring your family together, this usually cannot be said about the initial learning phase, which admittedly could push even the strongest relationships to the brink of rupture.

  I bide my time until, one afternoon after school, the conditions are perfect. The snow is just deep enough and the sun is soaking the tracks by the clubhouse near the Shack, making them glisten as if somebody had sprinkled them with a billion tiny precious diamonds. It’s time to launch Operation Cross-Country Skiing.

  The kids are anything but thrilled.

  “I don’t like cross-country skiing,” Maya whines.

  “How do you know?” I retort. “You’ve never even tried it!”

  “It’s boring.”

  Nora is quick to chime in.

  “Nooooo! I don’t want to go skiing!”

  Somehow I once again successfully work through the protests, and as soon as we reach the tracks, excitement starts to build.

  “I want to go fast!” Maya says.

  “You need to learn the right technique first, honey. Look at Mommy! Right arm and left leg forward, then left arm and right leg forward. Let’s practice together and do some laps around this soccer field first.”

  Maya pretends she didn’t hear me and takes off toward the woods.

  “Nora, will you look at Mommy, please? This is your right arm and this—”

  She cuts me off.

  “I got this, Mom! I already know how to cross-country ski.”

  “That’s great, but I still think we should stay here on the soccer field. It’s going to get dark soon.”

  Nora, too, ignores me and instead starts following her sister toward the two-mile-long track that points to the woods. As they reach the first small descent at the end of the soccer field, the narrow, tall skis throw them off balance and they both fall down in hapless piles, causing Maya’s left binding to come loose. Nora uses the commotion to get in front of her big sister, and everything goes surprisingly well until Nora falls again and loses her lead. While I’m trying to prevent the already distressed situation from deteriorating into an epic tantrum, Maya keeps going to secure her lead position. If friluftsliv was supposed to be outdoor recreation “with no pressure to achieve or compete,” my kids clearly haven’t gotten the memo.

  By the time I’ve gotten Nora calmed down and ready to get back up, Maya is nowhere in sight. We follow the tracks deeper into the woods, calling Maya’s name, but get no response. Then, out of nowhere, I hear her voice from the left. She has left the tracks and somehow managed to get to the top of the biggest hill in the area.

  “Mommy, I’m up here! I’m finally going skiing!” she yells, excited.

  At that moment, I realize that you can take a child out of the mountains, but you can never take the thrills of downhill skiing out of the child, and before I have as much as finished that train of thought, she has plunged forward with her skinny Nordic skis in a wobbly “pizza” position. She doesn’t get far before she accidentally crosses the tips and falls headfirst into the snow. This turn of events effectively paves the way for tantrum number two, just from a different child this time.

  “Stop whining!” Nora yells unsympathetically to her sister, having already forgotten all about her own meltdown not too long ago.

  This only adds fuel to the fire. With at least another half mile left of the trail and darkness quickly embracing the surrounding woods, I almost wish I’d left cross-country skiing where it was for more than twenty years—a quaint childhood memory in a dusty filing cabinet in a rarely used part of my brain. Just as I think the situation can’t get any worse, another skier quickly approaches us on the trail. She’s slightly older than me and, judging by the looks of her gear, she’s a regular on the track. I do my best to look unfazed while awaiting her silent judgment. She slows down, her eyes wandering from the furious eight-year-old on the hill to the smug five-year-old on the track, then back to me, the exasperated mom. “It’s not easy,” she says, and shakes her head sympathetically. I feel like crying and pouring my heart out to this complete stranger, but I don’t. Instead I repeat her words like a mantra in my mind and squeeze out my last drops of energy to help get Maya back up on her skis. Somehow we manage to finish our inaugural cross-country ski trip without any further interruptions.

  Back in the car, I’m ready to write off cross-country skiing with kids for the foreseeable future. But, to my surprise, the girls’ moods have suddenly shifted.

  “That was awesome!” Maya says.

  “I want to go again,” Nora says.

  I’m secretly smiling on the inside. It wasn’t glamorous, it wasn’t easy, and it most definitely wasn’t cool, but I don’t care. I’m silently checking off my first win for friluftsliv.

  Scandinavian Parenting Tip #3

  Simplify childhood and resist the urge to try to keep up with the Joneses’ kids. Remember that a preschooler needs very few things besides ample time to play freely, and that filling his or her schedule with a litany of “enriching” activities can do more harm than good. And if you think that your child’s preschool is too focused on academics, try to find other options that offer more child-led play and nature experiences.

  Suggested reading: Under Pressure: Rescuing Our Children from the Culture of Hyper-Parenting, by Carl Honoré. HarperOne, 2009.

  4

  * * *

  WE MUST ALL TAKE CARE OF NATURE

  If you can help children love nature, they will take care of nature, because you cherish things you love.

  —MULLE

  In late February, a high-pressure system moves in with warmer air, and the remaining snow melts faster than a glob of coconut oil on my new induction stovetop, turning the yard outside the Shack into a slushy quagmire. The sky is fifty shades of depressing, and with no snow left on the ground, daylight is elusive. And it rains. Not hard, just a steady downpour that slowly corrodes any motivation to recreate in nature. For a day I stay inside and stare at my computer screen. Then I talk to my dad. He’s had a good couple of days.

  “We walked around the lake yesterday,” he says. “Bernt was expecting me to call and cancel because of the weather, but of course I didn’t. You don’t want to be the guy who bails. You’ve just got to bite the bullet.” He sounds upbeat and happy, even though his last consultation with the oncology team at the hospital was a mixed bag. The good news is that the doctors got everything they needed to get during the surgery, and that it doesn’t look like the tumor has metastasized. The bad news is that they still want him to go through six months of preventive chemo. “My Runkeeper says I’m at 570 kilometers since September. I think that’s more than I’ve walked my entire life,” he says, and adds, almost sheepishly, “I never thought I would say this, but I think I’ve become addicted to my daily walks.”

  Meanwhile, I feel like I’ve walked 570 kilometers since last week. If I was struggling to find places to walk in the US, that’s definitely not a problem here. In fact, it seems like every
time I’ve come to visit in the summer, another street in Borås has been shut down for traffic and made into a pedestrian-only area, or at the very least turned into a dead end to prevent through traffic. Parking spaces have been replaced by bike racks, streets transformed into pocket parks crowned with obscure contemporary sculptures and riverside pathways. Mind you, this is a popular strategy among local politicians in Sweden who want to reduce pollution in the cities and improve the people-to-car ratio in downtown areas: If you make it inconvenient or expensive enough to drive—or “inspire environmentally friendly modes of travel,” as the city prefers to call it—people will eventually choose to walk, bike, or take the bus. Not stopping at that, the city runs most of its own vehicles on biogas and is aiming to make the entire city fleet, including buses, completely fossil fuel–free by 2030.

  When the streets were first closed to car traffic, decades ago, some of the shop owners in downtown Borås feared that they would go out of business if their customers couldn’t park outside, or at least relatively close by. As the years went by, these fears turned out to be unfounded. Downtown thrived and became even more of a hub of activity than before, with an urbane café culture, weekly concerts on the town square in the summer, unique hole-in-the-wall boutiques side by side with several busy department stores, and, smack in the middle of the city, a new, large, and whimsical playground that has become a favorite hangout for families with young children.

  Today you’d be hard-pressed to find anybody who wants the cars back in downtown. I don’t either. In fact, this city is doing exactly what I would love for all cities to do—setting an ambitious agenda to reduce greenhouse gas emissions and create a truly sustainable community, of which decreasing traffic in downtown is just a small part. But one day, as I’m circling around the main library in my Saab, trying to find a parking space that is at least within half a mile of the building, I do feel a little bit inconvenienced—and ripped off, as I had already paid the equivalent of twenty dollars in parking fees while running a few errands across town.