THE OUT AND BACK

physically tired. More like emotionally tired. Like after you go all out for your best friend’s wedding and spend the majority of the night doing the worm on the dance floor and chatting up said best friend’s weird and handsy aunt, and the next morning you simply have nothing left to give to the world around you. You’re all used up. Spent.

Let’s face it, even if you dedicated all of 2020 to camping and giving your backyard a makeover worthy of an HGTV show, it was still a difficult year. I feel like I spent my time trying to be upbeat and point a flashlight on the silver lining of a very, very gray cloud for myself and my family. Especially my kids. I watched firsthand as they suffered one disappointment after the other. No school. No Little League. No camps. No playdates. No visits from grandma…2020 was the year of “you can’t do that right now.” So we leaned really hard into the things we could do—neighborhood bike rides and constant campouts and hiking and exploring parks and forests we’d never been to before. We thought if we just kept ourselves busy enough, we wouldn’t really notice all of the things we were missing.

And honestly, I kind of loved it. For a guy who doesn’t like big social situations and who would rather spend most of his time in the woods, the global pandemic had its upside. Sure, those woods were more crowded than normal because suddenly the entire country decided that riding bikes and camping was the best and they should definitely start a podcast about it, but I was still in the woods doing the things I loved.

As good as pandemic life was, I’m obviously glad the world is getting back to the neighborhood of normal. My son’s playing little league and my daughter can do volleyball camp again. We could even travel this summer if we want to. I feel like there’s a weight lifted off my shoulders because we’ve gotten through this very challenging thing.

But I need a minute before I get full speed ahead into my new, old life. I’ve spent so much time and energy on making the most of the past year, and now that it’s over I’m exhausted from the inside out.

I keep reading articles about how, as a society, we have all of this pent-up energy because of our year of stay-at-home orders and social distancing, and that people are looking forward to blowing it out this summer with big trips and big plans. Everyone seems to agree that this is supposed to be the “BEST SUMMER EVER!!”

It makes me think I’m the only one who’s exhausted and that maybe I approached the pandemic all wrong. Instead of attacking it, maybe I should’ve let it wash over me. Maybe I should have taken more naps and developed a more complicated relationship with alcohol. I actually drank less during the pandemic, doing a deep dive into non-alcoholic beers. Who drinks less when the world is crumbling around them? What’s wrong with me? Did I miss my opportunity to take a year off?

And now I’m supposed to get excited about the chance to get on a plane and visit a far-flung beach or carry a heavy backpack through a national park on the other side of the country? I’m not saying I’m sick of the outdoors, but I need a rest day. But like for two or three months. I’m not supposed to tell you this because I’m an outdoor writer and this is an outdoor magazine, but all I really want to do right now is wander around the mall drinking a giant Jamba Juice. Maybe get a soft pretzel and see a movie. You know what I mean?

But summer is in full swing and that usually means big adventures for myself and my kids. I should be organizing multi-family swimming hole excursions and epic rides across vast forests, but I just don’t know that I have the energy. What am I supposed to do with this newfound ennui for the outdoors? My wife says she needs a big vacation. Something tropical with surfing. My son wants to ride bikes all the time. My daughter wants me to take her and her friends camping. How can I muster the energy to spearhead all of these adventures when I just want to take a nap?

I’m sure I’ll get there. Maybe after I catch the first wave while surfing at the beach, or maybe after I watch my kid go big on his favorite jump line, I’ll rediscover my stoke for outdoor adventure. Until then, I guess there’s always tubing. That sounds okay. Sitting in a river with a couple of beers and letting the current take me. That’s restful. I’ll start with tubing and see where it goes. But don’t expect me to paddle. I’m just gonna float.