Becoming Outdoorsy

I do not know when this happened. I only like this marginally more than you do.

I came back from vacation this week, and when colleagues asked how I spent my time off — the first full week I’ve had the luxury of taking off from work in, wow, three years, somehow? — I excitedly told them. I flew to Las Vegas, and then drove to Utah, and hiked a bunch in different national parks, and rode horses, and then I came home. Images of canyons and red rocks dotted my Instagram feed.

This, I think, would surprise anyone who even sort of knows me. My vacations in the past were mostly comprised of sitting beachside in Italy, or sitting beachside in Puerto Rico, or — actually, I think those are the only other vacations I’ve taken in my adult life, so that’s pretty much it. Historically, I have not been known as an “outdoorsy” person. I like to be outdoors, but doing outdoor activities? Not so much. In college, my guy friends were in the Outdoors Club, which as far as I could tell mostly involved getting high and occasionally going bouldering, an activity that combines two qualities I lack (hand-eye coordination and fearlessness of heights).

One weekend when I was a kid my mom put us in the car and told us we were driving to do a “short hike.” I should preface that I was not what one would call a particularly “active” child. Yes, I played soccer and rode my bike, but like, for fun, and as soon as those things ceased being fun (during “conditioning” for soccer season, for instance, which…