The Case for Play: Lessons from the Sandbox and Beyond

The Sandbox Adventures

We had one of those sandboxes shaped like a dinosaur. The kind with a cover that’s forgotten after a few weeks.

The sandbox became the stage for many of our adventures, using our pre-teen imaginations that far exceeded the confines of that box.

As much as we enjoyed the sandbox, it was nothing compared to our Little Tikes castle.

That plastic fortress saw more action than Planet Fitness the first week of January.

The castle had the ability to change shape in the blink of an eye—a medieval fortress one day, a schoolhouse the next (my sister went through a STRONG “let’s play school” phase).

Ironically, that hollow plastic fortress could be disassembled very easily. Our Little Tike hands took that thing apart so many times I could probably still do it with my eyes closed.

All of that “work” to create an environment that fit whatever complex scenario we conjured up. So much thinking, collaborating, and planning—yet, we were just playing.

It felt like play because we were doing exactly what we wanted—what gave us joy in that moment.

From the Backyard to the Woods

Playing in the backyard as a kid was the “gateway drug” to becoming obsessed with the woods behind my house.

While my parents held claim to only about 1 acre, I was able to enjoy the 100+ acres that enclosed it.

“The woods” played a lead role in my childhood until the summer before we went off to college.

As a grade schooler, there was a span of a few years where I tried to get in the trees any chance I got. If you ask my friends (and my mother), they’d either roll their eyes or smile at the thought of it.

I even had a birthday party in the woods once. I invited 10–15 friends, and the party was just us walking through the woods with my parents, running all over the place, feeling like we were on an expedition.

We climbed trees, scaled ravines, and had sword fights with sticks—all without a single worry in the world.

The lack of worry wasn’t because there were no problems—there were plenty of them. Wet shoes, pants that wouldn’t stay up, struggling to grab the next hold while climbing a ravine wall or searching for the perfect “sword stick.”

The problems were there, but the worry wasn’t—it simply didn’t matter to us.

My Adult Struggle with Play

Playing in the woods is something I rarely do now.

I am in the woods a fair amount. Living in Denver, Colorado, means I can be “boots on the ground” charging toward a summit in as quickly as 35 minutes.

There isn’t a season that Courtney and I don’t find something to do in the woods—camping in the summer, snowshoeing in the winter, and hiking or trail running basically all year round.

But being in the woods is different than playing in the woods.

I find myself unable to enjoy the freedom, the far-reaching views, or the smell of firs because I am distracted by the logistics—travel logistics, gear prep, timing, food supplies.

All the adult concerns that crowd my mind and smother any ounce of “play” that finds its way in.

This is adulthood, though, isn’t it?

We allow our minds to stay preoccupied with the stressors of life outside the moment, or we get too rattled by the problems of the present moment.

We have ample opportunities to play, but we prevent ourselves from doing it.

Some people even take pride in their stoic, go-getter lifestyle.

“I’m so busy” has become a badge of honor that we wear proudly on a chest to signal importance, productivity, or worth to the world—even if it’s at the expense of our own well-being.

Rediscovering Play

Did I forget how to play?

Or did I forget how to choose tasks/activities that I enjoy so much that I lose myself in them without feeling the weight of obligation?

Playing should be worry-free. Fun. It should fill your soul and drain your battery at the same time. It should fill your soul while leaving you happily exhausted.

Play should be the priority when it’s time to play.

That’s the problem: we don’t let play be the main thing when it’s supposed to be the main thing.

Losing Fun Flow in Work

This is how I slowly got lost in my trade. I got into physical therapy because I thought it was a nice combination of sports and biology—two areas I loved. I chose this career because I thought it would allow me to play while doing meaningful (and hopefully financially secure) work.

Somewhere along the way, I got lost in the work of it all. Letting work and financial concerns overshadow the fun. I let life’s stressors creep into the moments when I should have been playing. I focused too much on the aspects of my job that created cash flow and not enough on the aspects that created fun flow.

When you find the right 'fun flow,' you can do it so well and for so long that it naturally creates success.

Fun flow creates cash flow.

This is where I went wrong—I forgot why I chose this career. I forgot why I "jumped ship" to do it my way. I forgot that this is something I’m supposed to do for a lot of years, which means I should probably enjoy it.

Now, I ask myself every day:

How am I going to play today? How can I find the “fun flow” in the mundane or the problems?

This is my way of rediscovering play—of letting it guide not just my free time, but also how I approach work and life.

Play isn’t just for the woods or for kids.

It’s a mindset, a way to engage with the world that makes even the challenges feel like part of the fun.

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