Author: jgballstaedt

40 Ways to Stay Active with Your Kids During a Quarantine

Photo by Allen Taylor on Unsplash

This is an unprecedented time. The phrase “40 days and 40 nights” has taken on more meaning. I used to think this was a long time, but due to this current COVID-19 pandemic, we’ll be lucky if we aren’t stuck inside for far longer than 40 days and 40 nights. For a few weeks now, our world has been slowed down and has largely been placed on hold. Our kids have no school, no recess, no organized sports, no outings with friends or family, and no routine way to get their wiggles out. Some kids may not have a yard to play in or many siblings to play with. It’s tough. (We adults are going stir crazy too.)

The temptation may be to sit those young ones in front of a television or other electronic device as a means of entertaining or babysitting them for the next few weeks—or months—until the coronavirus dangers have eased and social distancing is no longer recommended or required. A life without any activity is terrible (at least to me).

We should see this time as a unique opportunity. What are some ways to help you and your children have fun, unique, and active experiences during this strange and troubling time? Here is a list of 40 ideas you might want to consider as you try to enjoy what looks to be a societal pause (and family investment) of much more than 40 days and 40 nights (please add your own ideas in the comments):

1.       Sled down your stairs. My first suggestion asks us to go big or go home… or to go big while at home. Maybe we can’t hit the slopes with our kids, but your kids can sled down the stairs in our house. You don’t need to use an actual sled (nor should you use skis). Have them try a piece of cardboard, a small mattress, a blanket, or a raw rear end. If you join, your kids will think you are cooler than Superman.

2.       Play flashlight tag. Kids love flashlights. When the sun goes down, or if bringing down the blinds can darken the house, get the flashlights out and tag each other with light in the darkness, and bring some light to this dark time.

3.       Have a pillow fight. We always talk about pillow fights, but have you actually ever had one? This is a great way to get your kids’ wiggles out right before going to sleep (or a great way to get them riled up so they can’t sleep).

4.       Have a Nerf gun war. If your kids are more generally male, they’ll love this. My three-year-old girl enjoys this too and nearly shot my head off when I wasn’t paying attention.

5.       Play laser tag. The danger of getting hit in the eye is lower than with Nerf guns. If you have laser guns, get them out. Or maybe buy some!

6.       Play hide-and-seek. One game where being smaller has its advantages. Don’t find your kids too quickly. And you must slowly and loudly announce your investigation of each possible hiding place. “Is he in the hamper?!” “Is he under the bed?!” “Is he hiding in the dryer?!” “Is he hiding under this coloring book?!”

7.       Play limbo! Limbo is another game where being smaller has its advantages. Make sure you have some awesome music and dance moves spicing up the event.

8.       Play Sardines. This version of hide-and-seek (a kind of reverse hide-and-seek) is great for kids who are scared to hide alone or don’t know how to hide. In Sardines, one person hides, and as each person finds the hiding “sardine,” that person packs into the hiding spot with the hiding sardine. A bunch of packed sardines in a can, I suppose.

9.       Play chase or tag with the dog. The dog needs some exercise too, so give her a chase. You can also train the dog to seek you out. Make the dog wait while all the kids hide (training the dog to sit until hearing a “come here!” helps). Then unleash the dog! Dogs can smell you out but sometimes can’t see you when you are standing in the wide open. It’s hilarious. Treats for the dog are helpful.

10.   Play Duck, Duck, Goose. If you only have a small room or two, you can at least sit on the floor and run in circles.

11.   Lift weights. Build those muscles! One of the cutest things I have seen over the past week is my three-year-old trying to lift a 3 pound weight over her head. It was also disastrous because she dropped it on my nine-year-old’s head. (You can use canned food as weights too.)

12.   Have a food fight. Desperate times call for desperate measures. If you need a real change of pace, hold a food fight. You can have a modified fight using Cool Whip (or shaving cream), popcorn, or something like Cheetos. Or you can go all out and end your nightly dinner with an experience your kids will never forget—a flinging of mashed potatoes, spaghetti, or whatever else you’ve cooked up, along with a very memorable cleaning session. Be sure to take lots of pictures and videos.

13.   Build a fort out of furniture. Your furniture may be valuable, but turn it all upside down. The memories of building a fortress with your kids and resisting a siege by trolls or the evil Empire forces will be worth the damage.

14.   Build a real fort. If you are unlucky enough (or blessed enough) to not have regular work right now, take the time to build that treehouse you have never built—or a nice playhouse. Your kids will love it. Let them swing those hammers.

15.   Walk around the block. If you are allowed and if it is safe, get to know the neighborhood. Maybe make a snipe hunt out of it.

16.   Go on a real hike. Again, if you are allowed and if it is safe, hit up some local hikes—or take a drive to a remote and less-known and less-traveled trail.

17.   Play hopscotch. You can create a hopscotch board with removable tape somewhere indoors, or you can use sidewalk chalk to create one on the front driveway.

18.   Create a mural. Speaking of sidewalk chalk, draw a giant mural on your front driveway. This is also a great way to say hello to the world. Write messages to friends who may pass by or, in connection with a walk around the block, draw messages on neighbor’s driveways or porches.

19.   Play charades. For little guys, give them animals to act out. If your kids are older, try more advanced things or ideas to act out.

20.   Run up and down the stairs. My nine-year-old, for some reason, loves running up and down the stairs in the morning for exercise. To each his own. Maybe use this as a reward. Once your kid does his daily exercise of 40 laps up and down the stairs, give him a cookie.

21.   Play Simon Says. Oh yes, the classic game of  Simon Says. Bring that one back from your youth.

22.   Play Red Light Green Light. You only need a hallway to play Red Light Green Light. This game is also a great way to utilize the backyard.

23.   Have a dance party! “Alexa, play crazy dance music!” Let the young kids’ raw dance moves shine. Maybe even make it a dance contest.

24.   Use your basketball hoop. Sadly, 90% of Americans only use the basketball hoop in the front yard once a year or less. (I totally made that statistic up out of thin air.) Now is the time to increase the use. Play HORSE, lightning, and one-on-one. Dunk over your kids so that they understand your dominance.

25.   Play indoor basketball. If you don’t have an outdoor basketball standard, play on the toy one inside, or buy one that you can attach to a door. Perhaps consider buying a DoubleShot or a Pop-A-Shot. These types of basketball hoops kept me active for hours as a kid, even when I couldn’t go outside.

26.   Play indoor soccer or “footy.” If you don’t have a backyard or park to use, you can create a goal out of a door, chair, or a pair of shoes, and you can use a small ball, a balloon, or even a crumpled paper to play a light version of soccer, sometimes called “footy.”

27.   Scooters! The front driveway may be a little small for bikes, but scooters may work quite well. If you have an unfinished basement, you have an awesome racecourse.

28.   Do yard work or gardening. We all need to get out into the sun, and the need is especially greater now. If you have a yard and you can pull it off, get your kids to help you weed, prune the bushes, or plant your garden.

29.   Plant a tree. On that note, plant a tree! I’ve heard it said that the best time to plant a tree was 20 years ago. The next best time is today.

30.   Play on the trampoline. There are tons of games to play on your trampoline outside. If a tramp outside isn’t an option, try a smaller indoor trampoline. I hear the Bellicon brand is great for adults and will certainly work for kids.

31.   Play pass. You can do it in the yard with a soccer ball or football, and if you have enough space indoors, your hallways or living room.

32.   Do yoga with your kids (or Pilates). Kids need at least moderate physical activity each day, and this may be a potential route, especially if your kids like calm music and bending their bodies into fun positions. For a more intense workout, try Pilates. 

33.   Enroll in a virtual fitness class. Apparently, there are a few online exercise classes that are geared toward children. Try them out. Turn your screen time into exercise time.

34.   Play Dance Dance Revolution. Similar to the prior idea, if you must be in front of a television screen, you might as well make it a fun, sweaty experience with your kids. Play Dance Dance Revolution or another similar active game on your entertainment system.

35.   Have a scavenger hunt. I would recommend inspiring your kids to put this together. Help them take responsibility for some activities. They’ll be incredibly proud of the search they orchestrated.

36.   Play musical chairs. If you haven’t played musical chairs for a while, now is your opportunity. Let your kids pick the music, even if it is entirely annoying music. The more annoying the music, the better your reflexes might be when the music stops.

37.   Run laps around the house. Maybe this can be a punishment (or consequence) for misbehavior. “Did you just hit your sister? Give me 20 laps!”

38.   Play drill sergeant. This will take some enthusiasm and imagination. In addition to the previous idea (running laps around the house), you can order your kids to perform various exercises. “Give me 10 jumping jacks!” “5 laps around the house!” “10 barrel rolls on the tramp!” “25 jumping jacks.” Maybe it will be more exciting if you play some rock music.

39.   Play darts. There are toy darts and sharp darts. Darts for all ages. Be ready to make some holes or dents in the wall.

40.   Make a beanbag toss. Perhaps the best part of the activity is building the setup. Sew bags filled with beans (or you can use white rice) and construct a target out of a large piece of cardboard (or if you have the materials and tools, build it out of wood).

As we implement these and other ideas, let’s be careful not to make quarantine time too much fun because once this quarantine time ends, we want to be excited to get back into the great outdoors and activities of our normal life. I’m joking of course, but in all seriousness, we should see this quarantine time as an opportunity to build some awesome family memories and traditions. We will probably never again have this type of time with our families.

Leave a comment and let us know which of these ideas you have enjoyed, which variations to these activities might be helpful, what other activities are awesome, and what challenges you have faced in getting your kids to be active during this quarantine time (along with solutions you have found).

Think Again—Kids Are Not Too Young to Set and Achieve Goals

It’s just about two and a half weeks into January, a short time after many of us adults have set New Year’s goals. How well are we all doing? I just read that only about 8% of people reach their New Year’s goals. Because many people probably don’t set New Year’s goals or any real goals at all, the percentage of people stretching and growing as they achieve goals is probably well below 8% of the population. An especially interesting statistic is that today—January 19—is the day that the majority of people ditch their New Year’s goals. This is less than three weeks after setting those goals.

Usually, if adults aren’t very good at a certain task, I generally assume that kids will be even worse. For example, I don’t know very many adults who have enough self-discipline to eat just one cookie, and we can all agree that kids are almost certainly less able than adults to eat just one cookie. You’d assume the same would be true for goal setting. If adults are not disciplined enough to set and reach goals, kids probably aren’t either.

Even if kids can’t manage goal setting as well as adults, we shouldn’t exclude kids from goal-setting. Over the past few weeks, my wife and I have given our kids a little guidance and help to set goals. Our kids are all well under 10 years old, so my expectations haven’t been especially high, but I’ve been pleasantly surprised at how ambitious they are and how diligently they’ve strived for their goals, especially their physical goals, which are helping them be more active. And their physical abilities are clearly improving as they reach for these goals, even in a short time.

I suspect that many—if not most or even all—kids have amazingly raw ambition, untainted by skepticism or past failures. I also suspect that this ambition goes largely unused. We should probably do better to help even our young children set and achieve goals.

This post discusses—and requests your input—on how to use goals to specifically help our kids be healthier and more active. In this post, I address two ideas: 1) the power of kids setting their own goals and 2) learning through trial and error on how to set realistic and attainable goals. I discuss these ideas in the context of daily and long-term goal, both of which help motivate kids to put down the electronic device in favor of the sunshine outside.

Help Kids Own Their Goals

When I recreate with my young kids, I sometimes set a goal with them for that day or the specific activity. I am working on refining this skill so that these goals—and more importantly the activities we engage in—are more fun and more successful.

I often inspire my kids to do something they consider very hard: “Let’s get off our rear ends and go outside!” And once we are there: “Let’s catch the ball this many times in a row before stopping,” “Let’s hike to this destination or to this peak,” “Let’s canoe across this entire lake,” “Let’s swim for this many minutes,” “Let’s ski this many runs before escaping from the cold,” “Let’s bike this many miles,” or whatever it may be. I’m finding, however, that although my suggestions are helpful, they are not the best way of helping my kids form goals. They often accept my suggestions blindly, jumping on board without any enduring commitment to help them muscle through difficulty and discomfort.

To really tap into my kid’s ambition, I am learning that I should let them set each goal themselves, free of my suggestions where possible. I need to make sure they own the goal, rather than reluctantly agreeing to my idea of what they should accomplish.

I stumbled across this idea yesterday when sledding with my three young boys—ages eight, seven, and five (up Millcreek Canyon near Salt Lake City, Utah, on a trail called Porter Fork Road). As we trudged up the long mountain trail with our sleds and our faithful dog, my only real desire was that we had as much fun as possible. “How far do you want to go up before we come down?” (Notice that I did not ask them if they wanted to go X distance but rather prompted them to contemplate how far they wanted to go.) I mostly directed this question at my seven-year-old, who is extremely talented at complaining. If he committed to a distance and didn’t have to be pulled along, we’d all have a better experience. I wasn’t excited about fighting him—all his whining and flailing of arms—up a cold, icy hill. I was fine to go up 100 yards and then sled back down.

My seven-year-old thought in silence, battling his desire to turn around right then (which would have been fine with me). His eventual answer surprised me. In between whines and near-sobs, he boldly determined, “I want to go to the top.” I had told him that the road beneath us (covered by snow) began with cabin 1 and ended at cabin 37 or so, and he was determined to see cabin 37, despite the pain required to get there. So, we kept trudging up, and although the whining didn’t stop, each time I asked my son if he wanted to turn back, he responded by calming his whines and reaffirming that he wanted to reach the top. His goal.

One broken down (about to get back up and push toward his goal), one doing fine, and one a happy and silent corpse being pulled.

The fact that he had set this mighty goal actually worked against me. I was pulling my five-year-old in a sled, and I didn’t especially enjoy this task on top of combating negativity with motivating stories and any encouragement I could come up with. Turning back would have been fine for me. But no, my seven-year-old (and the other two boys as well) wanted to summit the sledding hill.

Then my excuse to turn around came. A she-moose appeared on the trail, walking directly at us, thirty or forty yards away. A little scared (OK, maybe a lot scared), I commanded the boys to huddle around me, no idea what I was going to do when the moose reached us. “Ruff! Ruff! Ruff!” The moose stopped, startled by our one-year-old vizsla, and ran back up the trail. “Well, let’s head back!” But no. They wanted to push forward. I explained that the moose was still on the trial and that we couldn’t pass. (“Great! The whining is over, and the fun sledding begins,” I thought.) But before we could mount our sleds, the moose veered up the mountain side, off the trail. The boys begged me to keep going. They wanted to summit the blasted sledding hill. That blasted goal.

Moments after our trusty vizsla scared off a moose.

And so we kept trudging up the mountain, me enduring more whining and repeatedly offering the solution of turning around. We finally reached the top, gloried in our victory, and then enjoyed an almost two-mile decent. The goal got us there, and the decent was probably worth enduring the whining. Now I need to work on reaching goals with a smile.

Help Kids Set Realistic and Attainable Goals

Again, my kids (and all kids, I believe) have raw, untainted ambition, and they can set and work for long-term goals, not just daily ones. I should never underestimate my kids, especially when they truly commit to a goal of their own.

For instance, I played football as a young kid and injured not only my body but my desire to play team sports, so football was not a good experience that I have ever encouraged upon my own kids. So, it surprised me when I came home from work one day and my wife told me that my eight-year-old wanted to play three hours of football a week… for the entire year. OK. Sure. As long as it motivates him to stop requesting to use our phones for entertainment (the answer to this request is almost always “no”).

What my boy really did was set a goal for me to play football for three hours each weekend. Let’s rework that to make it his own attainable goal.

My eight-year-old’s goal to play football has reaffirmed a few truths about kids and goals:

1. As explained above, when a kid comes up with a goal, he is more likely to be intensely motivated to reach that goal, even when you try and talk him out of it.

2. Kids are young, and their goals will likely need to be adjusted and refined.

3. Kids are young, and they need a lot of support, so their goals will likely be your goals too, to an extent (but hopefully not too much so).

With these principles in mind, here’s how the first three weeks of my eight-year-old’s goal (i.e. my goal) have gone:

Week 1: After our eight-year-old played football a bit on his own during the week, we parents got wrapped into playing almost two hours of weekend scrimmage and pass in the front yard, but we reached the three hours. The first hour was mostly fun, but the second hour got a bit rough. “Can we go in now?” “Do you want to reach your goal?” With a little encouragement, my eight-year-old reached that week’s portion of his yearly goal. Afterward, I tried to talk him down to less than the three hours, but he balked at that idea.

Week 2: Same procrastination but even less time to play football. It is January, and the weekend brought bitter cold, so my son and I spent almost two and a half hours throwing what felt like a chunk of ice. Not exactly fun. Actually pretty painful. Afterward, I explained to my son that he needed to play for 15 minutes a day at school during recess to lessen the weekend load on Dad. OK. Got it. My suggestion never materialized. It wasn’t his goal.

Week 3: Same procrastination but even less commitment from Dad to reach the goal. “Son, I am not going to play three hours of football with you again. We can’t do this every weekend.” So, he went outside, played with our five-year-old for maybe a half hour, and it unfortunately looked like January 19 would be the death of my eight-year-old’s goal. Unless I helped him each week or we recalibrated amd adjusted his goal.

Plan moving forward: I’ve helped him readjust his goal. The goal is now one hour a week, as adjusted by my son… after some kind parental guidance. Three hours was ambitious, but possibly a bit too much to do on his own. Maybe it did not follow as well as it could have the S-M-A-R-T goal principles (especially, perhaps, the reasonable part):

S: Specific (simple, sensible, significant).

M: Measurable (meaningful, motivating).

A: Achievable (agreed, attainable).

R: Relevant (reasonable, realistic and resourced, results-based).

T: Time bound (time-based, time limited, time/cost limited, timely, time-sensitive).

We live and learn, and there is success even when we come up short. My son’s goal (or our goal that I refuse to give three hours to each weekend) got my kid to learn more about diligence and commitment. He played with a chuck of ice for near three hours straight, for example, wanting to cry for pain. And his skills have definitely improved. He doesn’t squirm in fear when I throw a football to his face. He catches it. Or at last makes a noble effort. And when he throws the ball back, it arrives in a tight spiral half the time. Miraculous. Moving forward, an hour a week will go a long way over the next year. This may blossom into his ultimate goal of making it to the NFL.

I’m no expert, but I know the value of goals and will keep exploring goals with my kids as part of our family’s quest for healthy recreational activities.

How do you help your kids set goals? How do you use daily or long-term goals to motivate your kids to get outdoors and enjoy using their little bodies? I’d love to be parented on my parenting.

11 Ways to Stay Patient When Recreating with Children

Crisis doesn’t create character; it reveals character. I am no expert parent and don’t claim to know everything about raising kids, but I do know two things for certain: 1) raising kids is a constant onslaught of crises and 2) these crises reveal the impatient and sometimes terrible person that I am.

I also know that I love being active, that I love my kids, and that I want to be healthily active with my kids. Unfortunately, problems, complaints, crying, disasters, and all types of crises are much more common when recreating with my kids. When done with adults, activities like hiking, skiing, swimming, playing on the beach, canoeing, and biking—basically any outdoor activity—fill my soul and rejuvenate my body. Conversely, when I do these same activities with my young kids, I am sometimes filled with a general sense of murder. (I exaggerate, of course. Don’t call the cops.)

For example, I recently escaped to the peace and joy of the mountains with my wife and four kids only to have my seven-year-old son wet his pants after being on the hill for about 15 minutes. No change of clothes. We had just dedicated several hours of preparation and travel into an activity that now seemed impossible. What now? (I’ll tell you what I did some other time.)

These and other active outings with my kids test my patience, and I occasionally explode. Fortunately, I am insane, which is defined as “doing the same thing over and over again, but expecting different results.” Being insane, I keep getting out with my kids, confident that prior mishaps and crises will not repeat or won’t be as bad—or that I’ll handle them better. Joking aside, my little family has had many great (and terrible) experiences as we get out and active, and I am committed to making these recreational activities a continuing and blazing success moving forward.

I believe that whether we are successful in this goal depends perhaps less on my kids and more on my patience. Sadly, being more patient is not as simple as getting an oil change. In fact, I don’t know how to do it, really. I’m committed to mastering patience, however, and here are 11 points that I’ve come up with (or stolen from others) that will helpfully help me, you, and all parents of crazy and wonderful children to be more patient while recreating:

1. Invest in your kids, not the activity. The goal of each active outing is—or should be—to develop better relationships with your kids. Leaning to ski better, reaching the destination on the hike, or getting a good workout are all secondary benefits. By not focusing on the activity while with kids but instead the kids, the activity itself becomes more rewarding, I’ve found, and there is less reason to become impatient if the activity fails.

2. Give yourself way more time than you need—and then double it. When time is limited, stress increases, and patience breaks. If you think a hike with your kids will take an hour, schedule in two hours, and then be OK if it takes four.

3. Have low expectations. One of my goods friends credited his successful marriage to making sure that his wife always had low expectations. I think you can apply this to outings with kids. Keeping expectations low, for me, makes small successes bigger and better than they would be otherwise.

4. Fuel beforehand and during the activity. Eat a hardy meal before leaving. Like many, I am more inclined to explode on an empty stomach, and any seasoned parent knows that hungry kids are more irritable. And bring snacks. My wife often packs—in my mind—way too many treats for my kids. But when they get cranky, and when my temper begins to boil, I am grateful for the calming power of these treats for the kids.

5. Laugh frequently. It is hard to become impatient when laughing. If I had laughed when my son wet his pants right when we arrived at a ski resort a few weeks ago, I wouldn’t have had time to lose my patience and get angry. And there are so many reasons to laugh when you take young kids out. Just open your eyes. Kids are ridiculously funny.

6. Play along (i.e. be immature). Kids can be experts at being annoying. If you are stuck listening to the same silly song while your family hikes, either join in or start singing your own ridiculous song. If you can’t stand getting splashed in the face by your kids while swimming, splash back. If you can’t handle hearing another Laffy Taffy joke, tell your own. If you can’t beat them (or get them to stop), join them (be just as immature as them).

7. Allow more freedom. Perhaps we parents tend to be too regimented and structured when we recreate with our kids. We have a tight schedule and rules. It isn’t in the program to look at bugs in the grass for thirty-six minutes straight, and it isn’t safe for kids to be out of sight on a hike. Let your kids play with the bugs, and although it’s good to stick together on a hike, maybe let them run ahead on the trail while playing hide and seek. Maybe don’t worry that they’ll get eaten by a bear if you can’t see them for a couple minutes.

8. Enforce key rules. On the flip side, there are a few rules and guidelines that will make each activity more fun for everyone in the family. For example, I think it is safe to say that “no hitting” is a pretty good rule that should have pre-established consequences. At the same time, kids should be allowed to be kids. They shouldn’t be penalized for being annoying. And if bears are a legitimate concern or if they might get lost by running a head on a hike, make them stay within sight. (Losing a kid on a hike—especially to a bear—will probably put a damper on the outing.)

9. Don’t take it personally. Being on outings with kids may often require many instructions and corrections to learning children. Sometimes there will be blatant disobedience. Sometimes they simply won’t hear you. Whatever happens, I try (sometimes unsuccessfully) not to take it personally. My kids (like yours, undoubtedly) aren’t great at following every command, and they get distracted, especially when we’re doing something fun. This doesn’t mean they hate me, and I don’t need to pout about it.

10. Pray for success. Literally, ask God above to bless the outing. When you believe and know that God is on your side, rooting for you along the way, patience is easier to come by. My wife is much better at this than I am, often crediting successful outings to her pre-activity prayer.

11. Stop while you’re ahead. If you push your kids’ limits, there will be more crying and screaming, and it will be much more difficult to be patient and kind. It may be wise to stop the fun when it is still… fun, with everyone happy and enjoying the activity so much they don’t want to stop and even beg to keep going.

I’m working on mastering these and other tips—again, I’m by no means an expert. How have these or other ideas helped you be more patient with your kids? How do you make active outings with your kids more successful? I’m interested to know. Leave a comment below.

You All Sick? Have Kids Who Won’t Sleep? Solution: Wake Up Too Early and Get Active

Its winter. Its the sick season. Its the perfect time not to have kids. Its also the perfect time to lose some sleep, get up and out way too early, and exercise.

I had been struggling with a sore throat a few days ago, so my sleep was precious. Very precious. My three-year-old tried to steal if from me, and I wasn’t going to have it. When she came up to my bedroom in the middle of the night, too cold to sleep any longer because she refused to wear warm pajamas a few hours earlier, I firmly and angrily put her back into bed. Twice. And that was all it took. My stubborn determination to get her and myself back to bed for the sake of more sleep was so intense that I had completely woken myself up beyond repair—and then I steamed for the next four hours, fuming in and out of dreams. I didn’t find any more deep and true sleep that night, and the last thing I wanted to do when I woke up was go exercise. I didn’t. Today, a few days later, that night has taken its toll, and I am much sicker than I was.

Kids and sleep. I can’t get enough of either of them! Having kids makes getting good sleep even more crucial, but funny, perhaps the best way to get active alone time when you have kids is by waking up unhealthily early, long before kids beat you to it. I haven’t mastered this yet—and may never do so—but sweating through the hour or two of the early and remarkable transformation from cold darkness to warm light is where it’s at. This is the best exercise time, for many reasons, in my opinion.

In promoting early morning kid-free exercise to parents of young kids, I’m making at least a few assumptions. The first is that you a have a partner who will be there at home if the kids wake up while you’re gone—or a child old enough to hold down the fort while you are out. I’ve heard that Child Protective Services will get involved if you leave young kids at home alone. And unfortunately, their involvement is not some friendly babysitting until you get home. The second of at least a few assumptions is that your kids don’t consider 5 a.m. to be the appropriate time to wake. Regularly. And stay awake. Another similar assumption is that you didn’t battle a child, the child’s sickness, or both all night long, leaving you with little or no sleep.

Early morning exercise may not be possible for you, but if you can pull it off, cherish the early mornings. And try to make a habit of it. This morning, long before my kids were awake, and long before my sickness went away, I did the opposite of what doctor’s would probably recommend. I found myself in two inches of fresh snow, running/walking three miles up a canyon trail with a sled that held my skis and boots. (I’m working on gathering the funds and spousal approval for touring gear.) I was cold and sweaty and in love with life. After my ascent, skiing down the canyon trail long before the ski resorts opened made be feel alive and well.

Maybe I am wrong, but I believe that—somehow—waking up well before my sick body has given approval is maybe the apple a day that keeps the doctor away. Doing exactly the opposite of what my mother taught me to do to combat sickness (sleep in and take it easy) sometimes seems to be the remedy.

And sometimes, like today, pulling a stunt like this makes the first several hours of work feel hellish. Although I loved my early morning stunt, my sick body’s battery had been spent, and I was so tired I thought I’d have to pull the rip cord and parachute my way back home from work and get better acquainted with my bed. But I managed to work a full day, and when I came home, my wife left me with all four of my kids (it was a girl’s night out), which should have been the final ingredient for a disaster. But something quite remarkable happened. Although I felt pretty crummy, I was fun and warm and lovely with my kids. I was the opposite of the beast that met my three-year-old in the middle of the night a couple days back. My kids all went to bed happy tonight, and I’m happy—and about to cough up some strange winter phlegm. (Yes, TMI). Usually when I’m sick, and often when I am perfectly healthy, attempting to calmly put four kids to bed feels like trying to convince my parents that the Democrat party is not pure evil—a very frustrating and futile process. But tonight, despite my sickness and my early morning (and perhaps because of my early morning), there is a lot of love in this house. This feeling at home is especially amazing since my wife (the more loving and kind parent) isn’t even back from her girl’s night out yet.

Taking time to be active each day, especially early and especially in nature, is an investment in being a good parent, at least for me. So, while it seems counter-intuitive, I’m going to strive to get less sleep (or rather go to bed earlier) so that I can spend more time in the bitter cold outdoors this winter, all for the goal of being a happier parent.

How do you manage morning exercise with kids?

Running a Trail Marathon with My Eight-Year-Old

I ran a trail marathon with my eight-year-old. Well, kind of. Here’s how it happened, unplanned, and what I learned from it.

I ran a trail marathon with my eight-year-old. Well, kind of. Here’s how it happened, unplanned, and what I learned from it.

My First Trail Marathon

Every year, I run a marathon, and this past summer, I discovered trail running and wanted to conquer my first trail marathon. I started looking late in the season and had missed all the local runs, so I was set to travel to Death Valley for an early December trail marathon, but days before the event, I got an email informing me that the marathon had been cancelled due to flooding. So, I rerouted to the Four Corners Monument area with my supportive wife and four kids to do, on the same day, one of the four marathons held in Utah, Colorado, New Mexico, and Arizona as part of the Four Corners Quad Keyah.

Trail marathons are a totally different beast.

Five Hours of Brutal Trails

I didn’t earn the right to run hard, but I went out like I almost always do—a little too fast. This trail run was, according to the people in charge, the hardest of the four-day event. It featured a 5-mile loop through a dried-out river beds and up single-tracked hills. Have you ever run in sand? It’s like swimming while holding a child. Or like trying to sleep with your three-year-old kicking you in the side all night long. What is normally easy (running, swimming, or sleeping) becomes twice as hard. I did about two laps with decent strength, felt like I’d been through the meat grinder by the third loop, and considered throwing in the towel by the time the fifth loop was about to start.

Do you like my Mohawk?

I hadn’t planned on it, but I felt like it was a good idea, so I asked my eight-year-old to join me, enlisting his motivational support. He naively said “OK!” I was shot, so I was certain he’d outrun me on the last five miles of what had become a five-hour marathon.

A Supportive Son and a Helpful Burden

I gasped for strength for the first two miles, telling my son to make sure I didn’t pass out, hallucinate, or—worse—give up. (No, it wasn’t that bad, but I truly did want his help). He started physically pushing my sorry body forward, but I told him this wasn’t the help I needed. So, he bounced ahead of me like a gazelle, wandering back and forth across the river bed trail, talking and enjoying the scenery.

I felt like a piece of concrete, my limbs crunching as I trudged along. After the two miles of sandy river bed, we started summiting the single-track hills, and my boy’s excitement turned to concentration, and I started paying attention to his pain and struggle—not only my own. A mile or so later, he started wheezing, tears about to bust down his red cheeks. And pretty soon, I was holding his coat, encouraging and yelling him onward, doing everything I could to make sure he didn’t give up.

I laughed at what I’d gotten myself into. Maybe the hardest physical task I’ve ever performed, aside from changing my first diaper, is running through (or bleeding through) the last three miles of a marathon, especially when I have not trained properly or have run too fast in the beginning. I can only perhaps remember one or two of my previous 14 marathons that didn’t make me abhor my existence, and this is probably because I don’t remember exactly how I felt on these two marathons. And as I finished the last two miles or so of this very hard fifteenth marathon (my first trail marathon), I not only had to carry my broken body but also my little son’s waning spirits—and some of his belongings. Not an ideal plan for success.

But something a little surprising happened. I had only enough energy to worry about myself or my son. With my battery on empty, I could not dedicate energy to both. As I started focusing on my son, my legs forgot that they were tired. I felt a renewed strength. (And maybe the slower pace helped rejuvenate me as well.) I finished the marathon strong—in pain, but with more speed than I thought possible. (My eight-year-old didn’t quite finish with me. Before taking the final summit, the course passed near the finish line, and I sent him off to avoid a little more pain.)

Helping my son was a cute reminder of a truth Gordon B. Hinckley has taught: “Generally speaking, the most miserable people I know are those obsessed with themselves; the happiest people I know are those who lose themselves in the service of others.” This idea applies to marathons more than I realized. When my son started the final lap with me, acting as my support, asking me how I was doing, focusing me more on me, I only felt my misery more. But as miserable as I was, once I became almost entirely focused on his comfort (or discomfort) and helping him get to the finish line successfully, I had more strength and positive energy for both of us.

I need to focus on others more, even—and perhaps especially—during the figurative marathons of my life. 

What hard physical activities have you and your kids done together, and what have you learned from it?

Lucky Me: Missing the Boston Marathon by 13 Seconds

A huge personal success. In 2018, I ran the St. George Marathon in three hours, three minutes, and thirty-four seconds (3:04:34). I smashed my previous personal record, and because I finished under three hours and five minutes (one minute and 26 seconds under to be precise), I qualified in my age group for the Boston Marathon. What this really means is that I could sign up for this historic race and be considered by the Boston Athletic Association as a potential racer. The 2018 St. George Marathon was my fourteenth marathon. I’ve been trying to break into Boston for over a decade now, so I felt an awesome sense of accomplishment. Of all the compliments I received, the one that perhaps meant the most came from a friend on social media: “Holy cow!!! 3:03:34???!!! That’s freaking awesome!!! HUGE congratulations!!! RESPECT! … Even more respect since you did it with small children! That’s my current excuse for being obese.”

I had trained hard for this marathon while juggling a fulltime job and 4 young children, between ages 2 and 8, along with all of life’s other responsibilities. Many times, I took my young kids on runs with me, pushing them in the jogger or encouraging them to ride along my side. Other times, I ran early before they had even woken up, or I ran late after they had gone to bed. I felt I had—overall—kept my kids, wife, job, life, and pursuit of Boston in balance—and I achieved my Boston goal. This was huge to me!

A huge disappointment. Because the St. George Marathon falls just beyond the deadline for registering for the Boston Marathon, I had to wait for almost a year to apply for the 2020 Boston Marathon. So, my St. George Marathon would have been a year and a half before my Boston Marathon. However, a few months ago, after I applied to run at Boston, I received the following email from the Boston Athletic Association (B.A.A.):

Thank you for submitting your application for entry into the 2020 Boston Marathon. Regrettably, we are unable to accept your application due to field size limitations and the large number of applications received from qualified participants.
. . .
Entries in all age groups were accepted through and including those who ran 1 minute and 39 seconds (1:39) or faster than their respective qualifying standard.
. . .
We appreciate your dedication to running and our sport, as evidenced by achieving your qualifying time and submitting an application for entry. We encourage you to continue your pursuit of running in a future Boston Marathon, and wish you the best of luck in future running endeavors.

I missed the accepted time by 13 seconds. 13 seconds. For a race that took over three hours, this is nothing. That is about .5 seconds per mile over 26.2 miles. It is the time needed to take a single, long breath. I had run for 11,014 seconds but needed to run it in 11,001 seconds. This isn’t even 1% faster. It is just 0.118031597% faster—or just over a tenth of a percent faster. I had been aiming at this goal for over a decade and had trained for months (and really years), dedicating hours and hours of early mornings and physical sacrifice and pain to this goal—and I failed by just 1… 2… 3… 4… 5… 6… 7… 8… 9… 10… 11… 12… 13 seconds.

My wife had also dedicated hours and hours of time to this goal. She put together my training and nutrition plan, and she took care of our small family on many runs where I couldn’t or didn’t take any kids along. She had scheduled trips and family events around my training. It was a family goal that required many sacrifices, so I felt as if I had failed my family and especially my wife.

I’ve looked back at this race often. If I hadn’t been a little sick, I surely would have been 13 seconds faster. Also, I ran too fast in the last 10K, trying to break three hours, which I should haven’t done. I paid for it on the last two miles, trudging slowly across the finish line and losing lots of time, much more than 13 seconds overall. Months later, I kicked myself for this move. So many little things that would have surely cut 13 seconds…. 

Will I ever try to qualify for Boston? I’ll probably have to break three hours (at my current age, at least). It is physically possible? Can I make the time to train again (and harder)? Will it be good for my family—my wife and kids? Should I retire from marathon running? Is it worth it? A lot has gone through my head over the past few months, and I’ve compiled some thoughts about my failed attempt, as a father of young kids, to qualify and be accepted to run the Boston Marathon.

Getting to Know the Beast

“Anyone can run 20 miles. It’s the next six that count.” –Barry Magee

I ran my first marathon in 2007 with the naïve goal of running under three hours so that I could qualify for the Boston Marathon, a big and special race I had recently heard about. I had trained a fair amount, but I was a newbie in the world of long-distance running and had not built the proper base. I had, however, just run a 1-hour-and-25-minute half marathon, so I figured a slightly slower pace would get me across the finish line under three hours. I stayed on pace for the first half with relative ease, but I then became harshly acquainted with the monstrous beast known as the marathon—and the physical phenomenon of hitting the wall. Running a full marathon isn’t just a half marathon times two. It’s probably a half marathon times five. It’s a completely different race. The first 13.1 is a piece of cake in comparison to the second 13.1. I fell apart on the second 13.1 somewhere near the 20-mile mark, and of what I remember in my depleted mental state, I walked in shame for the last three miles. That’s all I believed I could do physically. I crossed the finish line at 3 hours and 37 minutes. Although a respectable time, I felt failure, and a monster within me awoke, determined to conquer the monster of a marathon, finishing under three hours and qualifying for Boston.

The Many Painful Pursuits and Failures

“If you feel bad at 10 miles, you’re in trouble. If you feel bad at 20 miles, you’re normal. If you don’t feel bad at 26.2 miles, you’re abnormal.” –Rob de Castella

In pursuit of this goal, I have run at least one marathon a year for the past dozen years. Most years, I haven’t trained nearly enough to qualify for Boston, and I knew it, but this rarely stopped me from trying to qualify. I’ve run too hard and felt so terrible that I’ve been worried I might die. I’ve also felt so much pain that I was worried I wouldn’t die. I’ve laid at the finish line semi-conscious. I’ve been so depleted that even the thought of working to swallow food makes me want to throw up. I’ve seen how my mind begins to malfunction on the last 10K such that I can’t even formulate or read simply words and phrases, as if I am a four-year processing Dr. Seuss in preschool. I’ve wanted to punch bystanders at the 22-mile mark who cheer, “You can do it! You are almost there.” I’ve wanted to tell these well-intentioned folks that they have no clue what they are talking about and to shut their lousy little mouths. I’ve had family believe that I was hallucinating as they run the final miles to the finish line with me. I’ve crashed so hard that I was literally the last person running the race, in danger of being disqualified.

Some of these experiences and failures were expected and justified because I had not respected or properly trained for the marathon, but some of them simply weren’t fair. Some followed months of dedicated and proper training. I’ve failed epically, crossing the finish line an hour beyond the time I had earned through dedicated training. Sometimes, my body simply malfunctioned for whatever reason or I’ve been sick leading up to the race. Sometimes I ran a few seconds too fast per mile, and I paid for it harshly on the last 5K.

I have learned lessons about my body, my limits, pain, and frustration that would not have been possible without my many failed marathons. So in a strange kind of way, I love these failures.

Maturity, Discipline, Training, Success—and Another Failure 

“The marathon is not really about the marathon, it’s about the shared struggle. And it’s not only the marathon, but the training.” –Bill Buffum

I have come to respect the marathon—and have begun to train for marathons properly. Many people can complete a marathon after simple but steady training (I’m probably in that group), and some people can even complete them without training (I’ve done this a time or two, but it wasn’t pretty). However, to truly master a marathon, you need to dedicate much, much more than a couple months of long weekend runs. You almost need to marry the marathon. It needs to become your life for several months leading up to the big race day.

Because she isn’t a jealous wife and because she is wonderful, my wife gave me permission to truly train for the 2018 St. George Marathon and attempt, again, to reach my ultimate goals: a 3-hour marathon and a Boston-qualifying time. The time and energy required for me to train put life somewhat out of balance, but I juggled everything as best I could, and the overflow often fell onto my wife and kids. It was a personal goal of course, but it was also a marital goal and a family goal. My wife and I were fully committed, and it affected our kids. Using her training in exercise science, she planned my runs, my eating, my recovery, and everything else I might use to succeed.

I stepped up my training. I knew—and my wife often told me—that I couldn’t succeed without mastering my nutrition, my long runs, my speed training, and my sleep and recovery. I didn’t have the natural ability that some runners have. So, I took salt baths. I ate strange things my wife ordered from obscure online stores. I cross-trained, biking and lifting weights. I over-trained. I fought through minor injuries. And I worked many failures out during training runs. One dark Saturday night, I crashed mentally and physically near a bar by my parents’ house, called for help, and laid down on the sidewalk in pain while my brother searched for me, people passing me by as if I were a drunk. I ran off months of fat and American lifestyle. I went to work late after long runs, and so I stayed late to make up for it. I saw my family less. I often woke up long before the sun came up, and I came home hours later as my family was just waking up. I was more inclined to yell at my kids when I was exhausted. I needed more sleep on Sunday mornings, and my wife let me sleep in while she took care of the kids. I pushed my mental and physical limits. I became frustrated. I saw success. I became a fine-tuned machine—more so than any other time I can remember in my life. I loved it. I hated it. I felt like I was becoming Superman at times, but at other times, I felt exhausted and as if my entire life was out of balance. Sometimes Dad wasn’t around when my kids wanted me. My family scheduled trips and life around my training runs, and I did many training runs as part of vacations. I doubted myself. I believed in myself. I kept working through successes and failures.

Interestingly, perhaps the most emotional run in this whole process was a long training run, well before the crowds and emotion of the big race day. I was alone on the streets of Salt Lake City on a Saturday morning. When I had started my training, I could hold a 7-minute pace for just a couple miles, but to achieve my goal, I needed to hold an even faster pace for must longer: 26.2 miles. I didn’t know if I could do it. Because I had failed so many times over the years, I asked my wife to schedule in more longer runs than most training programs require. Now, on this day, a couple months before my marathon, I woke up long before the sun and put my training to the test for 20 miles. A few weeks earlier, I had completely failed on a 20-mile run. I showed up at my friend’s house and laid on his kitchen floor while his wife nursed me back to health. On this day, however, a few more weeks into my training, my work paid off. I was on track. Nearly every mile of my 20-mile run was right on track with my training plan leading up to race day. I could feel my improvement and my ability to conquer my goal. I almost started crying. I could do it! I continued to improve after this run, doing a solid 21-miler at a 7:09 pace on extremely sore legs three weeks before the race. I had set myself up perfectly for a nice taper.

As luck would have it, I got sick just days before the big day. I knew that I would need the stars to align to run a 3-hour marathon, but obviously the stars hadn’t aligned, so I humbly decided with my wife to hold back and rely on my solid training to give me a shot at coming in below the 3:05:00 mark. I also was committed to running my first marathon ever at a negative split (running the first half of the marathon slower than the first, which is generally a formula for success). The race was awesome, largely because I held back for the first 13 miles. I think my average pace up to mile 13 (including the mile uphill that was a high-seven pace) was 7:05. From 13 to 20, I remember feeling tired, but I held strong, but in the 17, 18, and 19 range, during slight uphills, I wanted to give up on my strong pace—almost. But I never did mentally or physically. Once I reached 20 miles at almost exactly 2:20:00, I realized that I had 6.2 miles left and that if I ran an insane, superhuman pace (for me), I might be able to break 3 hours. The rest of the course was mostly downhill, and I decided to go for it, knowing that I probably wouldn’t be able to hold the pace but not wanting to have any regrets. When would I be in this position again, if ever? I had to go for it. I was pretty sure I wasn’t going to crumble and lose the 3:05:00 mark, but after four awesome miles, I struggled for 2 miles and almost did. I pushed up to the 8-minute mark, which hurt my time (surely by more than 13 seconds). I was near the very, very dangerous zone but finished the race with enough consciousness to hear my wife yell from the crowd, “He is going to do it!” I crossed the finish line, completely happily drained, at a time of 3:03:34.

My emotions basked in the glory of this race for nearly a year. I knew I might not get into the Boston Marathon, but I felt confident I would and began planning the trip with my wife, telling family in the area I’d come visit them as part of the trip. Until the Boston Athletic Association informed me via an email on September 25, 2019 that, although I qualified, I had not been accepted. Because I ran 13 seconds too slow. I would close my eyes often and count to 13 slowly, marvelling at how quickly the 13 seconds passed. Such a small bit of time.

My pain and depression was eased slightly, but not much, about a week later when I learned that Kenenisa Bekele had missed the world record marathon time by two seconds. (He ran it in 2 hours, 1 minute, and 41 seconds.) Many great people fail by so little.

Hard Work and Learning to Overcome Failure

“Our greatest glory is not in never failing, but in rising up every time we fail.” –Ralph Waldo Emerson

We all face challenges that, for us, are unbearable. Some of my kids’ “unbearable” challenges make me want to smile (and maybe God smiles at me as I struggle through my own “unbearable” challenges). My eight-year-old struggles to keep his cool during his recreational league soccer games. He breaks into sobs sometimes because he can’t stand the fact that the eight-year-old goalie stopped paying attention, let the ball roll past him, and contributed to the team’s loss. This failure is too much for him. But I love it when he loses because I love what losing will teach him, so long as he keeps fighting onward. Those who can’t deal with failure won’t learn to earn success, I believe. 

I believe that I am committed to overcoming my failures—ranging from physical (marathon running), family (repeatedly yelling at my kids), and work (losing a big case—I’m a lawyer)—in large part so that I better master tools that I can pass on to my kids. I want to teach my eight-your-old how to learn to forgo crying when he loses and instead become even more determined to practice. I want my seven-year-old to learn not to cry when he stubs his toe or feels his legs burn during an uphill bike ride. I want my five- and three-year-olds to have composure when I tell them they can’t have a chocolate treat for breakfast. Tantrums have no place in life. Yes, kids are young and can’t be expected to forgo all childish emotions and reactions (we as adults can’t even do this), but I think I have more ability to help them overcome failure based on my marathon experiences, and if I keep at my goal of conquering the marathon, I’ll be even more help to them.

With my wife’s blessing, I may just try to conquer Boston and the three-hour marathon this fall. Perhaps I am truly lucky that I was 13 seconds too slow, that I’ll have to keep pushing my limits, and that that I am not talented enough to crush the marathon with ease—that I will have to scratch and claw to place myself in a position where I might be able to reach my marathon goals.

How I Managed a Half-Marathon Ride/Run with My Six-Year-Old

“Dad, you broke my legs! You broke my legs!” My six-year-old son accused me of me this the other day. No, I had not run him over with a car. I had not kicked him. I hadn’t even touched him. Against my wife’s recommendation, I had invited him to do a half-marathon-distance bike ride with a modest 655 feet of elevation gain, according to Strava, which was almost entirely dedicated to a short but significant hill toward the end. I ran while he rode his little one-speed bike, crashed twice, cut his knees, and apparently broke his legs on that final daunting climb to Grandma and Grandpa’s house. But it was a major success overall for both of us. For me: I never got angry or frustrated with my son (regretfully, I am not always patient with my kids when we do physical activities like exercise together—I get frustrated sometimes when I deal with their expected limitations and resulting complaints). For him: it was a major step. He felt like a champion afterward and had learned to push the limits of his mental and physical abilities. (I am actually not sure if a 13.1-mile bike ride with a decently large climb is a huge accomplishment for a six-year-old, but I was sure proud of him!)

Here are a few things that helped make this bike ride/run successful—along with a few things that could have made it better.

I ran while my son biked. I am running a trail marathon in Death Valley soon, and I have been struggling to find time for long training runs. I feel better about dedicating time to hours of exercise when I can make it daddy-son/daughter time. If I forced my son to run a half marathon with me at my pace, I surely would have broken his legs. He is getting a little too old for enjoying the jogging stroller, but he can bike, and as long as hills aren’t involved, his little legs can usually keep him moving faster than my pace. So I invited him to come. I had a healthy optimism that he could do the miles and even the hills up to my parents’ house if I was patient. My wife’s response: “There is no way!” Her comment was expected. Our six-year-old has proven himself to be a major wimp in physically taxing or painful experiences. I love him, but he would probably cry under the physical pain and impact of being hit with a paper airplane. But his wimpiness didn’t deter me.

I motivated (bribed) with Pokémon cards. “Do you want to go on a long bike ride!?” I like to provide my kids, every once in a while, with a reward for getting out of their comfort zones (i.e. a bribe, but I don’t love that term). Perhaps I should do this less, but a short discussion later, my boy and I had negotiated a deal in which I would buy him a couple Pokémon cards in exchange for him accomplishing the bike ride successfully, without giving up and with crying. When I was a kid, we bought and traded basketball cards or other sports cards. Times have changed, and the right motivation for my little guy was the prospect of being able to hold in his little hands two prized Pokémon cards he has been eyeing. In the end, due to his small complaints while summiting the small hill, he volunteered to only be entitled to one card (the coveted Vaporeon), not two, since he hadn’t conquered the hill without complete complaint. (He actually briefly started to cry, which technically voided our deal, but I felt justified in buying him the one card, which he now treasures hopefully more than he would have otherwise after the fun memory he made earning it.)

We had good company. My six-year-old is in love with our dog, a one-year-old vizsla. I had this trusty pup on a leash, which hopefully made the journey more fun for him and provided more motivation. It seemed to have this effect. Kids certainly benefit from the peer pressure of friends, and they also like to succeed among their peers, and I think maybe kids feel the same healthy pressure from their dogs. Maybe not. My boy also had me there as good, supportive company. I talked with him, encouraged him, and was there as his dad, one on one with him on a long bike ride where no other kids or people could interrupt. I’m sure this time and companionship has benefits to my boy that I don’t realize—and to me as well.

We dealt with some falls. My boy turned a corner on some sidewalk covered in pine needles. This was more of a danger than I had expected. The ground was almost as slick as ice, my boy’s wheels coming right out from under him. He had a meltdown, as expected, but I calmly held him and encouraged him to go forward and praised him when his little tears stopped falling and his little legs started turning again. I didn’t force him to be a man about it, but I didn’t coddle him. I think each kid needs the right balance of love and encouragement when they fight physical pain on adventures like this, and I believe I found the balance under the circumstances. On our way back, he had a second fall. He is not very skilled on his little bike (more reason to keep at it), and a small dip and rise in a dirt trail sent him back into the ground. His world had again fallen in, but I again gave this six-your-old (almost seven-year-old) the physical comfort he needed. I held him for a few moments while he cried, and then I gently pushed him along. Interestingly, if this fall had involved my five-year-old, no comfort beyond a “good job” would have been needed. Every kid is different, and I’m learning to be a better dad.

Strangely, when I gave him permission to give up, he found that second burst that propelled him beyond what he thought he could do. . . . I’ll take it.

I provided a good challenge with permission to fail. I talked up the hill, and every time we encountered a slight incline, my boy was sure that we had encountered the hill. “Is this the hill?!” When I kept answering that we had not reached “the hill,” he was a little distraught at first and probably rather demoralized over time. In retrospect, I think he had more determination to beat this hill than I realized and than he let on, but I didn’t push him to conquer the hill. I gave him permission to walk up the hill, which is fine and probably expected based on the fact that his one-speed bike isn’t really made for climbing. I really should get him a better bike with gears proper for summiting hills. When we finally reached the hill, I verbally encouraged him to do his best, but when he started to break down and cry, I didn’t push him. I told him it was totally fine to walk, and I even started walking with him—and this was before he announced that I had broken his legs. Something amazing happened. My little about-to-burst-into-tears-boy suddenly burst past me on his bike. I was blown away. Whenever I push this guy, he wants to freeze. Strangely, when I gave him permission to give up, he found that second burst that propelled him beyond what he thought he could do. Although he gave up about a minute later and wanted to cry again (it is a decently tough hill), he had shown more strength. I’ll take it.

A good destination and intermission. Any physically exhausting journey is more exciting and manageable if the end destination merits the pain. Grandma really knows how to pamper my kids, so my boy’s little legs likely found more strength when considering how much love she’d shower on him when we reached the top of the hill and arrived. The praise was perfect: “I can’t believe you biked all the way up here! That is so impressive!” We rested our legs and minds, benefited from Grandma’s usual offers for food and good cooking, and played dodgeball in the backyard with the rest of the kids, who met us there by car. My wife dropped them off. My more successful rides with my kids (or runs when they are passengers in a jogging stroller) usually include a great destination or site along the way, such as a nice playground.

We enjoyed a downhill cruise home (the “victory lap”). When my wife picked us up, I told my boy that I was going to run home, but he could come with me if he wanted. No pressure. I gave him an easy out. He surprised me by joining me. While the rest of the family returned home in car seats and booster seats (except my wife—she’s a big girl), he cruised on his rickety bike back down to our home, a distance of just over six miles. It was all downhill, and he was much faster than me, and he felt like my superior, leading the way. It was a good victory lap that helped him understand the literal and metaphorical benefits of conquering the mountain. The first half of the 13.1 miles was hellish to him, I am sure, but the second half was a sweet reward for all the hard work. He glowed a little more warmly than normal.

A Few Reasons to Get Your Kids Out into the World

I’m not a homebody, so I’d probably get out and about even if it weren’t healthy for me and my kids, but I’ve been thinking about a few benefits that may come from a willingness to take your kids out of the house and risk many uncomfortable moments for you, your kids, and the public. Here’s a few thoughts about these benefits.

Taking kids beyond the comfortable walls of the home can be dangerous for a number of reasons, but rather than stay inside to avoid all kinds of painful, awkward, terrible, uncomfortable, and enraging experiences that naturally arise from leaving the house with kids, I have to get out. I get cabin fever. For instance, I would rather tackle the joys and inevitable pains of taking several children skiing than sit at home and watch a movie on a cold winter day. Even if going out means my kids will need to be quiet, calm, and respectful in public (employing skills kids have difficulty learning sometimes), I’d rather work on teaching these skills to my children than stay home and vegetate. For example, I prefer to go to church meetings on Sundays with my kids (most of the time) rather than stay home.

I’m not a homebody, so I’d probably get out and about even if it weren’t healthy for me and my kids, but I’ve been thinking about a few benefits that may come from a willingness to take your kids out of the house and risk many uncomfortable moments for you, your kids, and the public. Here’s a few thoughts about these benefits.

I would rather tackle the joys and inevitable pains of taking several children skiing than sit at home and watch a movie on a cold winter day.

Your kids will make you laugh—and maybe feel a bit embarrassed.

If you let your kids regularly experience the many wonders that exist outside of your house—out and about among neighbors, strangers, and friends—you are sure to have some great laughs.

The last Sunday outing to church with my family turned out to be quite memorable. When our young family entered the chapel, my five-year-old’s innocent conduct would have made many parents cringe and turn red in embarrassment. I, however, wanted to laugh out loud. We walked into the opening sacrament meeting a minute or two late (yes, we are not always on time, but we get there!), and the brother who opened the meeting was in the middle of announcing a community service project the coming Saturday in which everyone would first meet at the church to eat “doughnuts” together—a nice little incentive for those who participated. My five-year-old was ecstatic, only hearing the word “doughnuts.” As we carefully and quietly inched across the bench to our seats, he began yelling into the congregation: “Doughnuts! Doughnuts! Doughnuts!” My three-year-old also joined in, along with another child who is old enough to know better. My family became a lovely, youthful chant of “Doughnuts! Doughnuts! Doughnuts!” What a wonderful way to begin the meeting. And how much more wonderful than staying in the comfort of our home.

Although I didn’t laugh then, a few minutes later, further innocent child behavior almost got me to laugh out loud. This particular Sunday was fast and testimony meeting, where members of the congregation who are fasting can stand up and share spiritual feelings—referred to as a testimony. Generally, each testimony is given over the pulpit in front of the congregation, but in some congregations, a corded microphone is passed to members sitting in the benches of the chapel. A lady in our congregation who does not walk very well opted to use the microphone rather than trudge up to the pulpit. Almost everyone in my congregation uses the pulpit, so her speaking into the chapel speaker system from the back of the congregation was somewhat unique for my little family, which as seated near the front of the chapel. As she shared her testimony, my eight-year-old looked up toward the pulpit, heard the lady speaking, but couldn’t see her. He turned to me with a puzzled expression and asked, “Why is she invisible?” Awesome. Although nearly bursting out, my laughter kept itself inside. Again, what a wonderful memory brought to me as a result of getting out into the world with my kids.

Although nearly bursting out, my laughter kept itself inside. Again, what a wonderful memory brought to me as a result of getting out into the world with my kids.

Funny enough, when kids and parents are out together in public, it is often the parents who are the truly embarrassing ones. Who hasn’t seen a parent harshly scold a child in a public space for not acting like an adult—and in so doing create a truly terrible public display? (Yes, I’ve probably been that parent at times.) If I had yelled at my little five-year-old for innocently proclaiming his love for doughnuts, this would have been awkward and embarrassing. What he did as a child, although in a way unexpected, was expected. It was typically wonderful of how kids are. Although I should teach him good manners and should correct this outburst, I also should not be embarrassed, and I shouldn’t stay at home in an attempt to avoid embarrassment.

Because your kids don’t act like adults, you’ll make some enemies, but your kids will have a better shot at becoming healthy adults.

Maybe I am wrong, but I believe the general public is quite accommodating and understanding of children. Yes, some people believe kids are quite entirely terrible. Although these people acknowledge that kids are a necessary evil required to perpetuate the human race, they believe it is a crime to bring them into the public—especially if you, the parent, haven’t taught (or forced) the kids to act like adults. For example, a man at Walmart the other day collided with my not-paying-attention-where-he-was-walking five-year-old son, and the man looked at me like I had flipped him off. He seemed to say in his mind: “Look you stupid, irresponsible father, haven’t you taught your child to walk in a straight line and not get distracted? The impact of his reckless, thirty-five pounds of tender baby flesh almost snapped my leg in half! Had he been walking three miles an hour instead of two and a half, he likely would have killed me! He shouldn’t be in public unless he can act like an adult.” I responded in my mind: “Yes, sir, you are correct. I think I’ll go home and lock him in his room for the next decade and a half, far from the world. That way he’ll really develop into a normal and healthy adult member of society.” People like this Mr. Angry-at-Kids exist, but most people love kids and understand that it is OK to take your kids out into the world to do things like shopping—even at the risk that the kids might brush against an adult, knock down a display, or—heaven forbid—run down an aisle.

Kids who prefer, are encouraged, or are forced to stay at home, are likely to develop unintended problems and antisocial behavior, such as a serious relationships with their phones (or some form of a cyber world or electronics). These types of kids are the ones that scare me and who I think present a danger to society, not so much because of who they are now but because of who they may become: adults who simply don’t know how to function in society. The kids that get out into the world—talking with and bumping into strangers, actually speaking and playing with their friends rather than texting them, throwing real mud and dirt rather than cyber grenades at cyber enemies—are the ones who carry more of my hopes and who I believe have a leg up on becoming productive members of society. In the end, if you don’t want to take your kids outside because they’ll create awkward experiences, just remember that you may save you and yourself from awkward moments now, but these kids will more likely grow to be non-social, completely awkward adults—living in your basement for an awkward eternity.

The kids that get out into the world—talking with and bumping into strangers, actually speaking and playing with their friends rather than texting them, throwing real mud and dirt rather than cyber grenades at cyber enemies—are the ones who carry more of my hopes and who I believe have a leg up on becoming productive members of society.

Your kids may be less likely to avoid mental disorders as adults. 

If you lead by example and get out and about, particularly into nature, your kids are more likely to get out and about themselves and receive very significant benefits: they’ll likely learn more confidence, creativity, responsibility, and they’ll exercise more and have less stress and fatigue. But the benefits to your kids may extend well beyond their youth. I was surprised to hear about a recent study that found a strong correlation between outdoor activity in green space and a lack of psychiatric disorders. This study showed that children who grew up interacting with the lowest levels of “green space” had up to a 55% higher chance of developing some kind of psychiatric disorder, such as depression. Even if this correlation isn’t necessarily causation, I certainly believe that the outdoors, especially clean, green, natural, and open spaces, immediately create happiness and peace. The dangers of the outdoors seem quite insignificant when I consider potential mental health problems. I am much more willing to let my kid fall into a stream, cut his knee on a rock, or get a terrible sunburn if it means preserving the health of his most important and sensitive organ: his brain. Cuts and bruises on the body heal much quicker and are far less serious to me than mental disorders.

If we or our kids don’t like spending time in the outdoors, far beyond the walls of our homes, or if we or they find these environments boring, there may be a big problem with our brains. The mental palette needs to be developed so that this type of activity becomes delicious. A diet of indoors and electronics just isn’t healthy. We and our kids are wired to be in nature—not in front of a screen—and if we’ve screwed that wiring up, we need to get help from the mental electrician.

We and our kids are wired to be in nature—not in front of a screen—and if we’ve screwed that wiring up, we need to get help from the mental electrician.

In conclusion, three benefits of getting out of the house and into the public and nature include—in addition to curing cabin fever—great memories and laughs, social development for kids, and better mental health for the entire family. I’d say it’s worth it, even if your kid yells in a chapel, bumps into and offends a stranger, or falls and scrapes his knee in the dirt.

Thinking of Injuries: Should My Family and I Focus on Team Sports or Being Active Together?

I broke my nose this week playing basketball with a few friends at our local church. I love playing defense like I am 17 (I am twice as old). I don’t feel much older than 17 yet, but I wish that I had been playing defense like I was 50 and very overweight. I went for a steal while the offensive player’s back (and head) was turned to me. Right as I was about to swipe the ball, everything crushed into black. The offender turned quickly to the right, his head colliding into my trajectory, squarely into the side of my nose. I went down and started kicking my legs like I was 7 years old, my swollen and crooked nose bleeding onto the gym floor. 

About a week later, the doctor gave me the bad news: you need surgery, you’ll need to plan on taking at least a week off of work, and you cannot play any contact sports for six weeks. I gave up Thanksgiving tackle football up a few years ago, so that didn’t matter, but basketball was also off the table. I asked the doctor’s assistant if skiing would be OK. The ski season with my kids and wife will be picking up perhaps in the middle of my six-week recovery. The answer was an adamant “no.” At least it’s only six weeks. 

Every time I go to play basketball on Wednesday mornings, my subconscious mind wonders if I shouldn’t. Maybe I’ll tear my ACL, snap my ankle (as I have done in the past), or suffer some kind of back injury that puts me out of commission for weeks, months, or even years. I wonder if playing sports is worth it. (“Sports” to me, and as used in this post, means aggressive, usually team-oriented, activities where lateral movement and body contact heavily increase the likelihood of injuries.) I love “sports” like basketball and soccer, but I also love non-sports (remember the definition) like road running, trail running, mountain biking, snow skiing (I’ve never gotten hurt skiing, thank goodness), and more. I also love the ability to be active with my kids each day, going on short bike rides and hikes, swimming, shooting hoops, playing tag in the backyard, and playing hide-and-seek in the house—things that are very difficult after an injury and surgery—like my nose surgery next week. Right now, in addition to risking lost ski time, my wife and I are going on a trip in a couple weeks where swimming with our kids was one of the highlights. But this activity would place me in danger of a blow to the nose by one of my kids, so I’ll not be participating.

So I bring the question from my subconscious and battle it in the open. Should I give up sports, as defined above, so that I can be active longer and enjoy more recreational activity with my kids? Below I address several points, making the argument for giving up “sports” and the argument for not giving up sports. I’m not sure what way I’ll go in the future, after my minor nose problem heals, but maybe this exercise will help me be more committed one way or the other.

Will I be healthier if I focus on non-sporting activities?

Sports like basketball, soccer, and football are no healthier than non-sporting activities. In fact, activities like running and swimming are probably healthier. When I play basketball with friends for an hour, for example, my cardiovascular workout pales in comparison to an hour-long non-sporting cardiovascular workout for a number of reasons. If I am running or swimming, I am usually in the water or on the pavement the entire 60 minutes. I control my schedule, and I being and end right when I want. Unlike sports such as basketball or soccer, there are no delays while people trickle in before play begins, nobody has to sit out games due to uneven numbers, and there are no timeouts or water breaks—only constant activity. A 15-minute run gives me about as much health benefit as an hour of time dedicated to team sports. 

If I only focus on non-sports, I am not going to be very motivated to exercise, I won’t get out of the house as much, and I’ll end up with 100 extra pounds of weight, heart disease, and an early exit from life. Yes, maybe a non-sport like running is a better bang for your buck in terms of calories burned, but it is not nearly as fun, interesting, social, tactical, and thrilling as a game of basketball with friends. The mere fact that I love sports so much more than non-sports makes them healthier because if all I had were non-sports, I would stay in the house more often and would be less healthy.

Are non-sports healthier for my family, especially when I have young kids? 

Yes, especially if you have kids with a wide range of ages. Most non-sports are conducive to getting the whole family active and exercising. For example, even a toddler can go on a hike with the family. When his tired legs give out, he can jump in a backpack and give an adult a more intense workout. Also, toddlers can join in a run with the help of a running jogger. And the whole family can go on a bike ride with the help of biking trailers or a slower speed that younger riders can handle. The level of activity may need to decrease so that everyone can participate, but full family participation is much easier than team-oriented sports. I have no idea how you can truly include a toddler in a game of basketball, for instance. Full family participation equates to more family physical health.  

Kids, like adults, are much more inclined to enjoy sports than they are non-sports—such as hiking and running. If you are trying to get your kids out from behind the television and into the world, they’ll be much more motivated to play a game of sports than they will be to do something that only makes them tired. For instance, kids will love the thrill and excitement of playing a game of soccer in a park more than they will the drudgery of a long and tiring hike—a physical activity where nobody scores, nobody develops specific sporting skills, and nobody makes the winning goal. If they don’t like the proposed activity, they’ll prefer to remain sedentary and will more likely become another case of child obesity, which plagues 1 in 6 kids.  

Are sports more dangerous than non-sports, risking the short- or long-term ability of my family to be active? 

Non-sports are clearly less dangerous than sports. I have never heard of anyone suffering an injury while swimming, for instance, and only freak accidents in running lead to broken bones or other injuries that force you into complete inactivity. In fact, these types of non-sport activities are nowhere to be found on lists documenting the most injury prone activities. Do your family a favor and focus on sports that won’t increase medical bills. Also do yourself a favor and focus on activities that won’t increase the likelihood of injuries that completely destroy your ability to be active. For instance, tearing your ACL is very common in sports like basketball, soccer, and football, and this type of injury will keep a younger person from being active for months. Recovery time for adults will likely be even longer, and the risk of reinjury will severely limit your ability to enjoy general physical activity. Be content with less injury-prone activities so that you can enjoy them for your entire life.

If you focus on injuries, you’ll never get out of the house. Life is to be lived, and you should focus on and enjoy the most physically rewarding and fun activities and sports, while still exercising common sense safety precautions. The fact that injuries may be less common in some sports does not necessarily make them more safe. For example, although it is difficult to be injured while swimming, more people drown and die in a pool than they do on a basketball court. And maybe you are less likely to twist an ankle playing soccer than you are road biking, but you are more likely to get hit by a car and die while biking than you are while kicking a soccer ball in a field. The reality is that you run the risk of bleeding and getting hurt no matter what activity you pick (unless it is sitting in front of the television), so do what you enjoy most. Injuries heal and life goes on, but if you don’t get out because your mom will only let you bike around the neighborhood with a helmet, with knee and elbow pads, during only low-traffic times, and while she is watching, you will not likely get out much and will instead be a very inactive and unhealthy person. This certain outcome is worse than the possible injuries you may sustain while being more active. 

Will my family be happier if we focus on non-sporting activities rather than sports? 

While fun to an extent, the more involved in team sports your family becomes, the more lopsided your family health and happiness may become. For example, if your family invests heavily in little Mikey’s soccer development, you’ll be taking him to and from practices during the week and games on the weekend. While it will be nice and exciting to watch him play, it won’t do as much for your family’s health and happiness as focusing on more family-oriented non-sporting activities. For instance, the entire family can go on a hike, enjoying the beauty of the outdoors and receiving the emotional rejuvenation of being in God’s creations. The family just doesn’t get these same benefits from watching Mikey play soccer from the sidelines. Similarly, if you play in an adult sport league as a parent, your kids will be the ones watching, not playing. You will also have less time to invest in playing and recreating with them since a good chunk, if not all, of your free time is dedicated to your team sport. Keep organized sports, where only one family member can play at a time, to a minimum. Focus on family-oriented activities where everyone can participate together, like skiing in the mountains or swimming at the beach.

If your kids never learn to play sports, they’ll embrace many non-active and unhealthy activities. When the sun is out, kids are meant to play basketball with the neighborhood kids or run to the local park to play soccer or tackle football with the local gang. Telling your kids to go on a run likely won’t get them out of the house. If all they know how to do is move their digits over a game controller, they may crack the top 100,000 in the world in their favorite electronic game, but they will miss out on many of the neighborhood activities. You don’t have to overload your kids or yourselves in team sports, but you should give them the training and skills that will help them enjoy sports more. If you kid plays on a soccer team a few months of the year, for example, he’ll enjoy soccer at recess better a year long, and he’ll be more willing to leave the house to play soccer with his friends at any season. And just because you are an adult doesn’t mean that you need to give up team sports and leagues, many of which won’t interfere heavily with your time with your kids. There are late-night indoor soccer leagues, for example, that have games when kids are winding down or asleep. Also, going to Dad’s soccer game at a park on Saturdays is a catalyst to the family enjoying some sunshine, running around on the grass, and playing with Dad on the playground after the game. And Dad’s love for sports will trickle down to his kids. 

My Conclusion: Be Balanced and Attentive to My Family’s Needs, Talents, and Interests

The older I get, the more inclined I am to focus on more family-oriented activities and fewer team sports. This prevents me from again jacking up my ankle in soccer or from being the seventh or eighth of my siblings to tear an ACL (it runs in my family of twelve kids). Straying from team sports also helps keep my wife’s post-surgery knee from reinjury. She can run with relatively few injury hiccups, but sports are generally too strenuous on her knees. My wife and I enjoy many wonderful non-sports that I value so much and that don’t risk great injury. 

At the same time, I love a good game of basketball on my own, even if I break my nose, and if I keep my sporting passions alive, this love inspires my own kids to be active and healthy. Yes, injuries will come. I am not going to let fear of injuries keep my kids from investing in sports that will help them learn teamwork and discipline. Bring on the risk of medical bills and the pain associated with surgery and recovery. My eight-year-old is in love with soccer, so I am going to develop that talent while getting the rest of your family active in other ways. I won’t let his soccer schedule rule our life. In fact, I’m investing heavily in helping my kids love family skiing outings, despite the bitter cold. 

In conclusion, I am going to find a balanced approach that is right for my family, and I am probably going to let my own excitement for basketball take me back to the court in a couple months. I’ll be more excited about my kids’ team sports if I don’t abandon pickup games at my local church.

The Vizsla: An Active Dog for an Active Family

It was love at first sight. Although I had dogs growing up, I never considered myself a dog person, but the first time I saw a vizsla, in my early 20s, I immediately fell for the breed. I was in the American Fork Canyon in Utah on a weekend hike, and a sleek, golden-rust-colored dog with energy, confidence, and a remarkably smooth agility passed by me. Its mission, to enjoy the outdoors with its owner, was apparent and inspired me. Surprising myself, I quickly asked the owner what kind of dog it was (I thought at the time that it might be socially unacceptable to ask owners questions about their dogs). I might not ever run into this attractive breed again. “A vizsla.” 

Yes, I was thoroughly won over, but I did not at the time fully realize how magical—and divinely inspired—this moment was. God, it seems, spiritually engrained the moment and memory into my soul, preparing me to receive a blessing that wouldn’t be ripe for the picking until almost fifteen years later: a vizsla for my wife and kids. Also surprising, I never forgot the vizsla breed name, and I started telling people that one day, if I got a dog, it would be a vizsla. At my first encounter with a vizsla, I was single and had not really discovered or recognized my love for exercise and the outdoors, but God knew—and perhaps I knew—that this dog would be the perfect outdoor companion to the person I was becoming, somebody with a passion for long-distance running, mountains, and God’s creations. I certainly had no idea how fitting the vizsla I found fifteen years later would be for my wife, who I had not yet met, and our four young kids.  

This is why I, a husband and father of four little kids, love vizslas. (Disclaimer: this is about how much I love the vizsla breed based on my limited experiences with a few vizslas and primarily my experience with our vizsla who just turned a year old. I do not profess to be an expert on the vizsla breed. Yet, others agree that the vizsla is a great dog for an active family.)

1. Vizslas are Full of Love (a.k.a Energy) for Everyone in the Family

I like to describe vizslas as “full of love.” I believe this accurately describes the energy they convey, like most dogs, to people, especially their owners. It is also my gentle way of describing their high level of energy. “Full of love” is another way of saying “incredibly energetic.” When I started telling people that I hoped to one day have a vizsla, I’d often hear the loaded warning: “Oh, that is an active dog.” I quickly learned that this phrase was code for things like: “A vizsla will tear up your house,” “You aren’t active enough to handle this type of dog,” “You will make a big mistake by buying a vizsla,” “You’ll end up getting rid of it and only further burdening our dog overpopulation problem,” and “You’re an idiot.” There may be some truth to these warnings. For most people, I wouldn’t recommend a vizsla, especially if running, the outdoors, hunting, or an active life is not a priority. Vizslas are a unique breed—but a breed that I absolutely love. When I open my vizsla’s kennel door, its like lighting a firecracker in my kitchen. When I run with my vizsla in the mountains for hours, she returns home and acts as if she went on a peaceful walk in the park. When my three-year old girl wakes up in the morning, our vizsla—who is the same height—excitedly licks the remains of last night’s dinner off her face. For the most part, I love this energy. Any annoyance I might have is generally swallowed up by the knowledge of the additional blessing this energy brings. They are great runners, as I discuss in more depth below.

The love vizslas have is not just pure energy. Known as “the Velcro Dog,” they can’t stand to be anywhere but stuck to your side. If I sit down or lay in bed, my vizsla will cuddle up right next to me for hours, regardless of whether I have exercised her recently. Even if she hasn’t gotten her wiggles out for the day (which is highly advisable), she will cuddle. She also cuddles with my wife and with my kids (but because my kids aren’t as delicate with her, perhaps, she prefers my wife and me). She gets intimate with everyone. If she weren’t a dog with pure intentions, I would call her promiscuous. She has never attacked or truly hurt any of my kids, but she has justifiably defended herself when my kids have become dangerously rough with her. 

2. Vizslas Have Energy to Fuel the Entire Family

One of the main reasons I bought a vizsla was because the breed dominates running. Every online list of running dogs includes the Hungarian vizsla, not only for long-distance but for fast runs. I am busy raising my four young children, working full time as a lawyer, and staying active in my community and church, and if I don’t exercise (running being my principal exercise), I become unhappy and, well, fat. My vizsla is an excellent running companion who motivates me to keep running. She is perfectly engineered for the task. I have been running for a good 15 years and am a full-grown adult human, a species that many argue is born to run, but after just a few months, my vizsla pup could both sprint faster than me (not a huge feat) and run longer distances than me. (However, my vizsla is just a year old, and based on advice from people smarter and more experienced than me, I am slowly easing into long-distance running until she is fully grown and her growth plates are completely developed, but a half-marathon distance run in the mountains at about 9 months old didn’t seem to phase her.) Even burdening her with a dog backpack full of my supplies doesn’t slow her down at all on trail runs. 

A vizsla is also a healthy obligation to be active. Buying a vizsla is somewhat like signing up for a race, only a much bigger commitment. When I sign up for a marathon, I feel obligated to run more—and actually do run more. Now that I have purchased a vizsla, I am obligated to run for the next 11 to 15 years, my vizsla’s expected lifespan. I love this obligation. Our vizsla listens for me to get out of my bed each morning, and when she hears me stir, she jumps out of my son’s bed where she has been sleeping all night, wagging her body like a fish, excited to go running, whether that was my plan or not. So I run more in the mornings, despite sometimes thinking I am too busy with kids for exercise. And if our vizsla smells sweat on my wife or me, her excitement goes through the roof. Sweat is associated with her favorite activity: running—and sometimes in the mountains.

We cannot tire our vizsla. She can easily run with me in the early morning, transition right into a jog with my wife while I shower and get ready for work (and hold down the fort full of kids), and—if I want—chase me on my mountain bike for miles on an evening ride. This is her ability, not necessarily a requirement. She isn’t insanely full of unmanageable energy. Right when we stop, she cuddles right up to us and falls asleep. We have only noticed her getting anxious if we haven’t been active for a few days.

Interestingly, after I’d already committed to and purchased a vizsla, I learned that the breed dominates speed, in addition to dominating long distance running. Vizslas can sprint up to 40 mph, which makes them one of the fastest dogs in the world, usually ranked third or fourth fastest. Salukis and the famed greyhounds (45 mph) are the two that commonly boast faster times. What this means for you and your family of kids is that your vizsla will never be caught in a game of tag in the backyard. In fact, I have never successfully tagged her. She toys with me, never letting me get within more than a few feet of her, making me feel two decades older and slower than I am. 

3. Vizslas Are Low Maintenance, a Blessing to a Busy Family 

If you have kids, you probably don’t want to add more cleaning and maintenance responsibilities to your life. I am amazed each day how quickly our four kids can destroy a house. And I am amazed at how long it takes us to get them to bed each night. I don’t need to dedicate more time to taking care of a dog. Although having a dog requires a lot of work, for me, vizslas are low maintenance (and others agree). 

When I say low maintenance, I don’t mean that you don’t need to exercise them or get them out into the world to get their wiggles out. Rather, they give you great bang for your buck. If you want a powerful tool for enjoying the outdoors but with fewer grooming needs than other dogs, you might want a vizsla. 

First, they are very clean. Mud and dirt seems to fall off their sleek, short hair. They are also a self-cleaning breed, using their tongues to clean themselves. You could potentially get them muddy in the outdoors, throw them in their kennel, and wait for them to leave their kennel as if it is a washing machine. They do need to be bathed, but not as regularly as many other breeds. I recently took the cleanliness of a vizslas for granted. My sister and I went into the mountains with our three dogs: a vizsla and two miniature schnauzers. After running in a couple streams, the mud and dirt slid right off my dog and didn’t really affect the overall cleanliness of my minivan when we returned back to the car, but the miniature schnauzers retained and released mud all over my car. 

Similarly, vizslas score well on the stinky scale. They are known to exude almost no smell, in fact. Some dogs, despite regular bathing, constantly smell terrible. Even after a few weeks without a bath and regular outdoor activities, a can tolerate our vizsla, but after a bath, I feel perfectly comfortable cuddling up with her on the couch. Well, mostly comfortable. The one thing I have to worry about is shedding; I keep my black suits away from her.

Yes, vizslas shed, but it isn’t terrible like some dogs. One of the main reasons my wife didn’t want a dog was because she can’t stand hair. Marrying me with my hairy chest was enough of a sacrifice. Getting a dog—especially a shedding dog—was, for years, out of the question. But after explaining the low-shedding nature of a vizsla’s coat, my wife was more inclined to let us get one, and she hasn’t complained about the vizsla hair in our house, which exists but isn’t a huge cleanliness issue to us or my wife who, again, hates dog hair, human hair, and any kind of loose hair. 

The shedding has its benefits. Vizslas do not require haircuts, which really attracts me. I hate the idea of spending money to cut hair, especially $50 for a dog. I can’t even get myself to take my three boys to the barber. Once every couple months or so, I complete four haircuts at no expense: three little boys’ hair and my own. Not having to either cut or pay for a vizsla haircut makes my life simpler and less expensive.

4. Vizslas Are Intelligent and Can Quickly Learn the Family Rules 

Vizslas are known for their intelligence; however, because they mature slower than other breeds, some believe training takes more patience and time than with other breeds. This was not the case with our vizsla. Our dog’s quick ability to learn was a huge perk for our child-filled home. I spend way more time than I would like trying to get my kids to eat their food, clean their rooms, obey their mother, pick up toys, and—perhaps the most difficult—get to bed at night. I was pleasantly surprised at how little time we needed to spend teaching our dog the basic family rules. She was potty trained in a few weeks, will obediently stay in our backyard even if we leave the gate open (most of the time), goes to her kennel on command, and has finally learned to not steal food off of the counter. She kept doing this when we weren’t looking until we recently caught her red-handed and gave her a cold shower with the hose. She’s been perfectly obedient now for a few weeks. Our vizsla also knows a ton of awesome tricks. She can sit, shake, twirl, lay, jump (she has a great vertical leap), give high-fives, roll over, play dead, and more. In fact, my siblings think that I am a much better dog owner than I am based on the many tricks our vizsla can perform—many more than the various schnauzers in my family realm (all my siblings have schnauzers). The only thing we haven’t managed to teach our active vizsla is to not pull on the leash, but a Gentle Leader collar has certainly helped. 

In conclusion, if you want a committed family companion that will unconditionally love you and your kids, will inspire you to get outdoors and stay active (both with your kids and on your own), will require less maintenance and upkeep than most other dogs, and will likely be fairly easy to train to obey the rules of the home, a Hungarian vizsla may be the right dog for your family.