The stay-at-home dad: Family hikes — All about short bursts and dragging feet

I’m generally not a fan of my kids growing older. While they require more physical effort (mostly carrying them around) babies and little kids are cuter!

Alas, my kids refuse to stop growing, so I must make the best of it. One key benefit: The decommissioning of the strollers. No more pushing kids around, at least in the literal sense.

If I’m being honest, pushing a stroller in my earlier years as a parent kept me in decent shape. I could control the pace of our adventures, whereas now most physical activity becomes subject to the abilities of my 4-year-old son. This means exercise that includes an unpredictable mix of brief speed bursts and extensive feet-dragging.

In recent weeks though, our family of six has been able to tackle increasingly more rugged hiking excursions. Without a stroller, we can actually walk on narrow paths of dirt, rock, sand, etc.

A quick caveat: My definition of “rugged” probably translates to “sleight, beginner-level inclines” to more experienced outdoor enthusiasts.

Hiking with my kids has created some unexpected physical challenges that will hopefully help whip this creaky Old Millennial back into shape.

For one, I’m growing more agile, thanks to the various “brake checks” I receive from whatever child walking directly in front of me. I believe the constant threat of abrupt start-and-stops” leads to a stronger core and more flexible ankles. If a child, walking mere inches in front of you, brakes to admire a random butterfly, you must react instantaneously or risk injury to multiple parties.

I must also be hyper-aware of my surroundings with my kids, especially when faced with the constant threat of other people walking with their friendly dogs. As I’ve written about before, my 7-year-old daughter refuses to be within approximately 90 feet of any canine, regardless of size or presence of a leash. I must be prepared for her to literally jump into my arms. I know I should lift with my legs instead of my aching back, but you try catching a flailing 65-pounds shaped in the form of a small human.

Any hiking outing also comes with a psychological test. My four kids will always demand to go “faster and longer” at the beginning of the adventure. My wife and I must then always remind them that it takes as long to go back as it takes to get there. The decision to turn around must occur long before anyone feels tired. Turning around too late means extra complaining, as well a greater risk for brake checks and hypersensitivity to outdoor nuisances like bugs, mud and, yes, those pesky, extremely friendly doggies.

Going a little too far isn’t the worst thing. Usually that just means holding the hand of one of the younger two kids for an extended period of time. It warms my heart, yes, but it also warms my hand. Sweaty palms. Ew.

Going too too far, however, increases the risk of something that might put me on bedrest for a couple of days. Because if my 4-year-old drains his gas tank all the way to empty, then I’m carrying his floppy dead weight back to the car.

Our last lengthy excursion just before Memorial Day came close to this nightmare scenario. We all had a fantastic time, but we went too far, and the last stretch back to the car, of course, was a literal uphill climb. At that point, I had already been holding my 4-year-old’s hand for at least a half a mile, and he hung behind me as I tugged him up the hill toward the car. His feet started dragging, making his small frame feel like twice the weight, and my lower back ached with frustration.

I stopped mid-hill and tried to psych myself up for what was surely coming next. I would have to pick up his lifeless body and scale the mountain with him in my arms.

(Editor’s note: We’re still talking about what most would consider a “slight incline.”)

As I was about to lift him, I pointed to the car up the hill.

“OK, bud,” I said. “Almost there. We can do this.” Honestly, I was just trying to motivate myself.

Suddenly, my son yells, “SUPER SPEED!” and pushes me aside as well as his three siblings, then speeds up the hill as fast as I’d seen him move all day.

Short bursts, man. They’re unpredictable.

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Tyler Wilson is a freelance writer and stay-at-home dad to four kids, ages 4-10. He is tired. He can be reached at twilson@cdapress.com.