Working Out in the Wild

A year ago this week, I was packing my entire life into the trunk of a Volkswagen Jetta, ready to drive 11 hours home and wait out a pandemic with my family. I knew the impending lockdown would upend every routine I had, but there was one particular disruption that I was really struggling with: my workout routine; gyms would naturally be one of the first things to close. I was typically in the weight room at least five days a week, so one question was burning in my mind: how was I going to stay fit?

I wasn’t the only gym-bro wondering this. A flurry of articles about working out at home and body-weight exercises were spewed from every publication imaginable. While I was wary to change my workout regimen, I saw an opportunity to get a tan and workout at the same time, and began exercising outside on the balcony of my family's home in the heart of the Santa Fe desert. 

Now, seven months later, gyms have reopened and I’ve started reflecting on exercising under the hot desert sun. I remember how much better I felt after a body weight workout compared to an hour in the weight room, and how any persistent pains I had disappeared after a month of outdoor training. So, after one too many indoor workouts, I decided to conduct an experiment: I would move my workouts outdoors for a week, minimally changing their structure and individual exercises, and reflect on how I felt.

I tried my best to keep my home workout routine the same as when I went outdoors, but the first day I stepped out onto the grass, I had my first of several realizations: I wanted to try harder. Maybe it was just having the open space, but I had a strange urge to start sprinting or to get some friends together for a game of soccer. I don’t want to be too dramatic, but I felt like I was an animal who had been injured, nursed back to health inside and released back into my natural habitat. 

About halfway through my week outside, it was overcast and drizzling. I sat in my living room ready to go out, but I dreaded my workout. Nevertheless, I walked 20 minutes through the mist to the soccer fields and had realization number two: I was enjoying myself in the rain. I remembered a high school track meet during a downpour, standing next to the high jump pit looking like a wet rat. Not so bad in retrospect. The variety that the outdoors provided made working out feel like less of a chore. Some days I came back sunburned, others I came back with wet socks, but I never regretted spending time outside.

One thing I did that week was bring a soccer ball to give myself a reason to move my body in a way that I couldn’t in a traditional gym setting. Although playing soccer was a small change of pace, my body had to adjust. It really made sure I knew it, too. While walking home from my workouts, I felt like my legs might fall off my body at any point between my apartment and the field.

Realization three, despite the pain and the soreness, was how much faster I could recover. I remembered hobbling home from the gym after leg days and slithering into my bed, completely unmotivated for the next couple days. When I came home after an hour of soccer, even if I hurt, I always looked forward to going out the next morning. Even the effects of more tangible injuries, like tweaking my ankle on a wonky broad jump, felt like they were gone by the time I woke up.

It’s certainly more inconvenient to go outside to workout. Replacing what was usually a 45 minute workout with two hours outside was a little on the extreme side. But what I do recommend is trying to get outside as often as you can, move your body the way it is meant to be moved and take note of how much better you feel.

Photos by Lauren Jones