How to Have {effortful} Fun

I grew up ice skating in New England. It was what my friends and I did for fun all winter long on frozen ponds and lakes around town. And when we couldn’t wrangle a parent into driving us to Heritage Park pond in the center of town, we walked to a swamp in the neighborhood and skated there, jumping downed logs, dodging half-submerged tree trunks, ducking beneath branches and limbs. It was half obstacle course, half janky skating rink, and it was heart-thumping, face-flushing, exhilarating fun. I can still recall the crystalline sunshine, the bitingly cold air, the brilliant blue sky, and the feeling of strength and power that flooded my body when I skated fast, fearless and strong.

Sometimes even now, decades later, when I dream that I am flying (everyone has flying dreams, right?!l), before I lift off into the air, I'm always on ice skates. Building up speed on smooth, clear lake ice, I skate faster and faster until suddenly I’m airborne, the lake receding below me, the wind cold on my face. I’ve never had a flying dream where I didn’t start off on skates.

A few weeks ago my husband, Brad, and I drove an hour from Lincoln to Omaha to try a new rink called the Riverfront Ribbon — a figure-eight loop in a park close by the Missouri River. It had been a few years since I’d last laced up my skates, so it took me a couple laps to get my legs under me. I was cautious, mindful of the teens in chunky hockey skates careening past me, baggy camo pants ballooning in the breeze. But my body remembered, and soon I, too, was casually skating laps around the Ribbon, weaving in and out among the flailing, wobbling beginners, my body loose and fluid, that feeling of freedom and strength and exhilaration coursing through me once again.

I’ve been thinking a lot about memories lately, mostly because I find, more and more, that I don’t remember the details of my everyday life very well. All my individual moments and experiences seem to blur together into a nondescript sameness.

One possible explanation for this is that I am a creature of habit. I thrive in routine and structure, but sometimes I think I allow the pendulum to swing too far. Too much routine, too much structure, results in too much sameness — the Big Blur.

“Conscious fun takes planning,” observes Lauren Vanderkam in her book Off the Clock. “We overindulge in effortless fun and underindulge in effortful fun…Minutes spent in boredom pass slowly, but they nonetheless add up to years which are void of memory. Memory must be cultivated.”

Memory must be cultivated. And cultivation takes work. It’s easy and comfortable to stick to my routines and my effortless fun — scrolling dog videos on Instagram (nothing wrong with dog videos, just saying!), reading, streaming a show, meeting friends for a cocktail or dinner at our favorite spot. And while none of these effortlessly fun activities are boring per se, they also don’t typically contribute to memories that stand the test of time. An hour, a day, a week, a month later, most of these effortlessly fun moments will have been absorbed into the Big Blur.

There’s room in our lives for both effortless and effortful fun, to be sure. They both serve a purpose and contribute to a meaningful and full life. We can’t always be cultivating conscious, effortful fun; frankly, that would be exhausting! But at the same time, I’m discovering that it’s worth putting a little more intentional planning and effort into cultivating experiences that are a bit outside of my comfortable, easy routines. I do tend to remember these experiences more easily. They stick with me.

Though the temperature has warmed to the 60s this week and the ice has long since melted, I’m still thinking about our afternoon of ice skating at the Riverfront Ribbon. I can still hear the sharp, rhythmic slice of my skate blades cutting into the smooth ice. I can feel the flush heating my face, my heart pumping, my legs loosening, the cool air on my neck. I am remembering how I laughed in utter joy and delight when I spun around to skate backwards for a few wobbly glides. It took some planning and a bit more intentional effort than I’m used to, but ice skating at the Riverfront Ribbon is a memory I won’t soon forget.