The Real Reason Outdoor Sports Make Us Happy

To surf Dessert, a standing wave in the midst of the Ottawa River, one should paddle 1 / 4 mile from shore, drift right down to a set of rapids, line up the method completely, pivot at simply the appropriate second, and with a burst of energy strokes both slide onto the shoulder or catch the froth pile. If you miss the wave, wipe out, or get flushed, it will possibly take half an hour to attempt once more, beginning with a cross-current slog again to shore and an extended hike upstream—in my case, lugging a SUP and stewing over what went incorrect. Which I did dozens of occasions over the previous few years. Which sort of sucks.

Proficient at driving a way more accessible however short-lived wave that solely works when the river is surging with snowmelt, I sought the identical feeling on Dessert. With completely zero success. This made me marvel why a few of us spend numerous hours studying how one can ski or bike down mountains, or scrambling again onto paddleboards whereas dodging rocks within the rapids. Outdoor fans are usually meticulous planners, not daredevils, in accordance with Australian journey psychologist Eric Brymer. So, what precisely are we craving?

Our Brains Like the Challenge

As exasperating as these makes an attempt at Dessert have been, the hassle itself was in all probability a part of the attraction. Evolutionarily, we’re programmed to observe the trail of least resistance, however in fashionable city lives, simple usually begets boredom. If it’s a battle to do one thing, the end result might be extra rewarding. “Outdoor adventure can feel good precisely because it’s hard,” says psychology researcher Michael Inzlicht, who runs the University of Toronto’s Work and Play Lab. “Despite these oversized brains, we’re still embodied creatures.”

Yet what if there doesn’t appear to be a lot ROI from all that floundering? So many swims at Dessert, a pair seconds of browsing. My progress could have been imperceptible, however every wipeout made me barely much less dangerous, suggests Inzlicht. To him, that is an instance of “effortful leisure,” which generally is a supply of deeper which means and goal—or what he calls “eudaimonic wellbeing”—that hobbies reminiscent of binge-watching Naked and Afraid don’t ship.

Inzlicht was proper, as a result of this previous summer time, I lastly started to determine the wave. I locked in throughout the method, saved my stability whereas turning, and dedicated to digging in with my blade. My rides have been fleeting and butterflies arrange camp in my abdomen, however I had an inexorable urge to drive by way of rush-hour visitors to the put-in day-after-day after work.

Unfragmented Consciousness

To perceive what was brewing inside my head, as a water-logged proxy for what excessive athletes really feel, I contacted Susan Houge Mackenzie, who moved to New Zealand from California in her early twenties and have become a wilderness information, main purchasers on river browsing journeys with bodyboards and fins. (Or as she describes it: rafting with out the raft.) “There’s a tension between anxiety and excitement when you’re getting close to the wave,” says Mackenzie, now a sport psychology researcher at New Zealand’s University of Otago. “During activities like this, we’re almost always flipping back and forth.”

Fluctuating between these telic and paratelic states is frequent in whitewater. In the previous, individuals are severe, goal-oriented, and arousal avoidant; within the latter, we’re playful, spontaneous, and sport for a thrill. Individual personalities differ, however the multiphasic nature of these kind of pursuits, plus a splash of concern, may very well be “a precursor to optimal experiences,” says Mackenzie. What’s extra, the trajectory of feelings individuals sometimes undergo whereas river browsing, from nervous anticipation to stimulation, reduction, confidence, peace, and a way of accomplishment, is derived from the flexibility to show experience in a difficult state of affairs and the creativity we really feel whereas immersed within the exercise—a buzz that persists lengthy after we’re off the water.

“The skills required to navigate rapids,” Mackenzie says, “help you tune out other aspects of your life and focus on what’s right in front of you.” Circa 2025, this “unfragmented consciousness” is uncommon and valuable.

Even although she’s 9,000 miles away, it’s like Mackenzie is peering into my cranium. In mid-August, on my birthday, I picked up an outsized sandwich at an Italian deli and spent the day at Dessert (named thusly, I’ve been informed, as a result of it’s a deal with to be consumed after Ottawa’s spring browsing season is completed). On my second try, I paddled out, pivoted, and slid right into a supersensory concord. I used to be in synch with the wave, shifting my weight barely and stepping backwards and forwards to carve and glide on its brief, steep face. My physique appeared to maneuver by itself—flying, floating—as if powered by the river, roaring over a limestone shelf towards the ocean.

Later, sitting within the shade to eat that sandwich, all of my worries had evaporated. Problems morphed into prospects. Small stuff was not sweated.

Flow State

Researcher Eric Bryner, from Australia’s Southern Cross University, tells me this wasn’t a cognitive leap. Looking at out of doors sports activities by way of the lens of ecological psychology, which revolves across the relationship between people and the bodily setting, he says that once we’re “dancing with nature,” we’re scanning and exploring with our our bodies, making an attempt to make sense of the world. Surfing shouldn’t be essentially an augmented course of within the mind; distance and time is likely to be instantly perceived, catalyzing our rapid-fire actions. In this context, feelings we label as concern or anxiousness usually are not destructive, merely data to soak up as our our bodies wobble and bounce and settle into energized focus. Basically: flow.

We’re on high of the world throughout and après surf, Bryner suggests, as a result of actions like this, surrendering to the second, failing and grinding, enjoying on the fringe of our consolation zones in dynamic out of doors environments, are “a fundamental way to be human.” They shut down cognitive chatter, our haptic senses absolutely alive.

I confess to Byrner that I can’t cease interested by river browsing. “Tiger in a cage,” he replies.

Confined in a synthetic house, a tiger feels suppressed, unwell. Bogged down in cities and cubicles, that’s us. “Essentially, we’re locking ourselves in a cage,” Bryner says. “Some of us don’t understand there’s a door, and even when we see it, quite a lot of us are afraid to open it. But when you open it and step outdoors, you’re the place human beings really feel most at dwelling.

“We call this adventure,” he continues, “but really, it should be considered normal.”