Give the Gift of Time
By Jonathan Beverly, ϳԹ senior running editor
Anyone who’s ever cleaned out a storage area needs no convincing that physical presents are overrated. I recently transferred a pickup truck’s worth of junk from my barn, and far too much of it had come into my possession in the form of a gift—framed pictures, clothes, souvenirs, sports equipment—that I had used infrequently, if at all. Many were unloved from the start, items that didn’t fit me or were simply weird. Even things that initially brought joy had quickly gotten old and were forgotten, replaced with the next new thing. The primary emotion they inspired now was guilt—for not using them more, for holding on to them too long, and for getting rid of them when they’d been given to me by someone I cared about.
Different emotions flooded me when I leafed through a photo album found amid the junk. The pictures from travels and adventures evoked treasured memories of the experiences that make up my history, my identity, my life. Not many of them had been gifts, but each involved someone giving a part of themselves to me by sharing a moment together.
The simplest way to give an experience is to go and do something together, be that hiking or rummaging through dusty antique stores. If you’re really generous, you can make a gift of taking on a share of their household responsibilities, freeing them to pursue their outdoor passion more often. You might wrap up the cost of an adventure they’d love but wouldn’t splurge on for themselves. Like any good present, an experience shows how well you know a person. Your gift will be lived, enjoyed, and remembered—and it won’t end up in a storage bin en route to a landfill.
Presents Are More than Just Junk
By Will Taylor, ϳԹ group gear director
I don’t distinctly remember the Christmas that my parents bought my brothers and me wetsuits—what I remember is the result. We lived near the beach in southern Oregon, where the ocean is dark and surly, capable of quickly snuffing a life, as it frequently did to unwitting tourists. But our father was a windsurfer and wanted us to be comfortable in the water, so he bought us those neoprene layers. We started skimboarding and boogie boarding and just playing in the ocean in general. Eventually, we ventured farther out to surf. Those wetsuits were a portal to another world. Many years later, my brothers and I are dedicated surfers, with thousands of hours spent in the ocean and dozens of cracked and salty wetsuits left in our wake. I could even make the case that the wetsuit I received that holiday led to my career in outdoor journalism.
Good gifts have that kind of power. They take stock of whoever’s receiving them—in the example above, three rambunctious boys—and enable that person to experience more. They’re keys that unlock new memories. But giving a gift that accomplishes that kind of miracle requires knowledge of the person. If the giftee hates cardiovascular exercise, a pair of running shoes won’t be well received. You have to be able to envision them doing the activity and getting joy from it, otherwise you’re on the wrong track.
The fear of giving a bad gift shouldn’t dissuade you from aiming high, however. Not everything, no matter how thoughtful and well-intentioned, will hit the mark. And that’s OK. One direct hit can change the trajectory of a life, as it did mine.