by Matt Levandoski, PLA
Was it divine, born out of need, or pre-meditated? I don’t recall, but in April of 2020, I found myself lacing up my running shoes more than ever before. Not to race or train, but to breathe. I ran every single mile of trail in the Ottawa County Parks System. What started as a fun way to stay in shape became my therapy, my escape, my lifeline.
When I began, I didn’t know that I could enjoy running. After all, I wasn’t a “runner.” That was something crazy disciplined people did because… I guessed they must love pain? But as I plodded along, there was something grounding about the rhythm of my feet on the dirt, the hush of trees in the wind, the occasional deer bounding away into the brush. For many of us in the global pandemic of 2020, the world felt upside-down. Being in nature and on a trail reminded me which way was up, so, as Forrest Gump would say, “I just kept on running.”
What I found on those trails wasn’t just way to burn off the Sluggo’s I had at lunch; I found a sense of personal peace—I found hope. I passed families walking together for the first time in what felt like ages, neighbors smiling and waving at each other from a safe distance, kids laughing as they explored creeks, woods, and playgrounds. In the middle of the world’s chaos, parks became sanctuaries. Not just for me, but for all of us.
And yet, in many communities, parks and open spaces are still treated like optional extras—amenities we get to enjoy when everything else is taken care of in life. We can’t play until our homework is done and our laundry is folded; only then can the guilty pleasure of recreation be considered. Trees, rain gardens, plantings, and benches are often the last things considered in development proposals but are often the first line items cut from budgets. It’s a narrative that needs to change, and I believe it starts with each of us. We need to slow down, to take time to think, to question our own priorities, and to give ourselves permission to listen to what we already know we need: time in nature with our creator, ourselves, and the people and pets we love.
For over 20 years, I’ve seen this mindset firsthand in my work as a Landscape Architect. The time we spend in parks and open spaces is frequently seen as the icing on top, the dessert we earn after we’ve eaten the main course. The miles I logged, the blisters I earned, the smiles I shared, and the way I felt taught me one truth: that parks are essential human infrastructure. Not just because recreation is fun, or a trendy way to get “followers” on social media, but because we need it.
Think about it—from a public health standpoint, parks are preventative medicine. Studies have shown that time in nature reduces stress, lowers blood pressure, improves mood, and boosts immune response. For kids, recess is more than a chance to get the wiggles out, but a way to learn social skills, problem solving, and to improve focus when they go back to the classroom. But it’s not just about mental health. Parks provide places to move our bodies, breathe cleaner air, and reconnect with the rhythms of the natural world—all of which have real, measurable impact on our overall well-being. Parks, open spaces, and time outdoors can help us thrive in our daily lives.
From an environmental perspective, parks and open spaces are working landscapes. They absorb stormwater, provide critical habitats, reduce the heat island effect in urban areas, and improve air and water quality. The founder of Landscape Architecture, Frederick Law Olmstead, understood the value of nature and worked to plan and design a space where people living in highly urbanized New York City could get away from the grind of pavement and buildings: the famous Central Park. Parks are among the most democratic spaces we have. There is no entrance fee. You don’t need a membership. They belong to everyone. A well-designed park serves toddlers and teenagers, elders and athletes, birdwatchers, and bikers alike. That is not an accident—that’s intentional, inclusive design. That is good planning.
One often overlooked, but important, thing that being in nature reminds me is that I am not the center of the world and it’s actually not that scary out here. Visiting a park and sharing a smile with a stranger as we pass on the trail reminds me that people are mostly good, despite what we may be led to believe. When I step outside of my house, office, or car, my perspective changes. It grows, it expands, and it helps me to “see farther,” a core value we share here at Prein&Newhof. When I get out on the trail in the middle of a forest with majestic trees towering over me, I feel small, but I feel safe.
When we save open spaces and create parks, we teach each other how to care for creation, how to care for ourselves, and how to care for each other. That’s the kind of mindset we need more of these days. When the world gets overwhelming, we don’t need more screens, more traffic, or more noise. We need trees. We need space. We need each other.
Over the last 5 years since I ran all the trails in the Ottawa County Parks system, I’ve put the weight back on, gathered a few more grey hairs, and watched my kids grow from middle schoolers to high schoolers. My oldest will even be going off to college at GVSU next fall. Time waits for no one and soon our nest will be empty. Knowing that I can return to a nature to re-connect, re-fuel, and remember, gives me the peace to carry on down the trail of life. See you out there!
