Take a 'Mental Breath' She Said. I Listened
Lessons from my daughter (part 1) + Zoom link to climb the ladder
The same week my daughter learned that her college was shutting its doors after a 160-year history, she competed in her first triathlon.
Coincidence? Nope.
When Natalie received the news in late fall about the possibility of closing, she knew she needed an outlet for her anxiety during what would be months of uncertainty.
During our weekly calls, she told me about everything she was learning about training for a triathlon. It sounded like it would be intense, but I kept my mouth shut.
In January, Natalie started cycling and running in addition to her daily swim practices with her college team. It sounded like a lot, but I kept my doubts to myself.
By the end of January, Natalie announced she would be competing in an Olympic triathlon in Ocala, Florida on March 30.
This time, I said something.
“An Olympic triathlon is pretty grueling,” I offered, after doing my own research. “Why not start with a Sprint triathlon?”
“I can do this,” she said.
And with those four words, I chose to trust that she could—and even if she couldn’t, she needed to try.
After months of training, Natalie found herself more than ready for the multi-sport race consisting of swimming a mile, biking 25 miles, and running 6.2 miles.
The day before the competition, she and I made the six-hour drive to Ocala. Natalie had requested we arrive before sunset so she could pick up her race packet and familiarize herself with the area. The running portion of the race would take place on a well-established dirt trail that meandered through a natural preserve.
Natalie’s plan did not surprise me. When going into unfamiliar territory, Natalie’s always been good at capitalizing on any elements she can control to offset the angst of what she can’t control.
“What a great idea,” I said, happily accepting her invite to walk in a unique area where woodlands and wetlands meet.
About a mile into the sanctuary of moss-draped oaks and ancient pines, Natalie suddenly stopped walking.
Gently placing her hand my arm, she whispered, “Mom, do you hear that?”
I heard birds chirping. I heard trees rustling. I heard the sound of exertion (me, not her).
I looked at Natalie’s face, hoping that might give me a clue about what I was supposed to be hearing. She was smiling.
“Nature? Peace? Tranquility?” I guessed.
That was the right answer.
Natalie went on to explain that walks in nature lower stress hormone levels (cortisol) significantly more than walks in urban areas. Knowing that I struggle with bouts of depression and anxiety, Natalie encouraged me to replace one of my daily walks along a busy, concrete roadway with one on a nature trail and see what I notice in my body.
Natalie described how every weekend since January, she’d discovered natural settings around her college city to safely bike and run. And in doing so, this lifelong competitive swimmer discovered of joy of taking a “mental breath” in the great outdoors.
“I know I would’ve gotten really depressed if it hadn’t been for these training sessions,” she surmised.
I had absolutely no doubt she was right.
When I got home from Florida, I did some research on walking in urban settings verses nature and found loads of research that supported Natalie’s personal findings. Here are two interesting tidbits:
“A study published in the journal Molecular Psychiatry suggests that walks in nature can lower activity in stress-related brain regions as they found that amygdala activation decreases after the walk in nature, whereas it remains stable after the walk in an urban environment.” (source)
“When you spend time among the trees, hearing twigs snap beneath your feet and birds calling out to each other from above, it does something to your brain. Walking in nature is more than just good vibes and fresh air. Scientific evidence shows us that there are measurable cognitive, emotional, and physical benefits to spending time in the great outdoors.” (source)
When I think back to the first week in the urban area where my family currently resides, one memory sticks out. I remember how distressed I felt having cars whizzing past me as I walked on the sidewalk. Vastly different than the quiet paths I was used to back home, this unstable environment created a sense of fear and overwhelm inside me.
But I kept going.
Day after day, I kept going on those distressing walks until I forgot what it felt like to walk in serenity.
I am grateful my daughter didn’t do that when the stress of external circumstances threatened her peace; I am also grateful it’s not too late for me to learn from her.
It seems like I should have this lesson down by now, but I will embrace this reminder once again:
Our bodies know what we need to survive.
Our bodies even know what we need to thrive.
But we must give ourselves a fighting chance against the gridlock of the world to hear the guidance of our heart.
For Mother’s Day on Sunday, I told my family I’d like to bike in “a peaceful place”. Scott kindly offered to do some research, but I already had a place in mind.
I know what I need.
And I bet you do too.
My friends, since the inception of Rachel’s Treehouse in January, we have made some powerful discoveries in identifying what we need to thrive and how to reclaim our worth and meet those needs. If you haven’t read the gorgeous collection of ‘Orange Moments’ on last week’s post, I encourage you to do so. This community is so wise and so supportive. This weekend, I’d like to elevate that support by having a live treehouse gathering on Zoom. Please climb the treehouse ladder on Saturday and take a moment to breathe, connect, and assess your needs. You will be in good company.
Paid subscribers will find the Zoom link below. Feel free to upgrade your subscription if you would like to have the full community experience here at Rachel’s Treehouse!
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