Turning a Run Into an Infinite Game of Exploration

Since my daughter turned three, running together hasn’t been as easy as it used to be. When she was younger, just feeling the wind and watching the world go by from the stroller was enough. Now, after only a few minutes, she grows restless, and my chance for exercise often disappears.

Today, something different happened.

As we were about to cross a small creek during our short run, she suddenly said, "I want to ask ChatGPT why the fairies live in the forest."

I opened the voice interface and asked the question for her. We listened together as ChatGPT answered.

Fairies live in the enchanted forest because it’s a magical place where they can thrive. The forest’s natural magic helps them stay hidden, keeps their environment lush and full of life, and provides everything they need, from sparkling dewdrops to vibrant flowers. It’s also a place where they can practice their magic freely, and every creature in the forest respects and protects them. It’s the perfect sanctuary for their whimsical, sparkly lives!

Afterward, she looked at me and asked, "What should I say now?"

It struck me: once she was invited into the conversation, her first instinct was to keep it alive. She wanted to continue.

She thought for a moment, then said, "Should I ask about the rats?"

I encouraged her to go ahead.

Though I sometimes had to rephrase her questions so ChatGPT could understand, soon we were asking about dogs, flowers, rivers, anything that caught her attention.

That’s when it clicked: we didn’t have to stop the run because she was bored. We could bring the world into the run.

I began snapping pictures of the flowers we passed. As we moved, I asked ChatGPT to tell us more about them, describing their names, stories, and histories.
I realized that growing up outside the U.S., I never learned the names of many of these local flowers, so now, I too was seeing them with new eyes.

California poppies
Lupines
Wild radish flowers

Rather than telling her the facts I thought were important, I let the things we actually encountered spark the questions. Touching a flower, spotting a beetle, hearing the creek, these small moments became invitations for her to wonder, to ask, to imagine.

Instead of me leading, her curiosity shaped the path. Instead of sitting down with a "lesson," we followed the simple magic of real experiences, the sights, sounds, smells of the world around us, and layered language and story on top of them.

We even started building a fairy tale as we went, adding every new element we encountered.

A lupine meadow.
A rushing creek.
A secret poppy field.

The story was alive, just like the run.

There was no goal.
No quiz at the end.
No "productive" outcome to achieve.

Just the joy of running, noticing, asking, and imagining, together.

An infinite game, where the purpose of play was simply to keep playing. And where AI became just a way to connect more deeply with the world around us.

If you’d like a little inspiration, check the video above of James P. Carse explaining what an infinite game is. It's a wonderful way to think about parenting and learning.

After we got home, we spread out the flowers on the table.

It didn’t take long before my eldest daughter picked up her brushes and began painting a soft watercolor of the California poppy.
As she painted, she looked up and said:

"Did you know it’s the official flower of California? And it’s against the law to pick them?"

Hearing that, I realized that I had unknowingly cut some poppies to bring home. I won’t make that mistake again.

To repair my small offense, I promised my daughters that we will gather some California poppy seeds and spread them back into the hills, adding a little more beauty than we took.

Another thing I learned that day, thanks to a run that turned into a living exploration of the world.

A few reflections from this small practice

Real things before abstract things. We touched flowers, we saw the insects, we listened to the creek before ever naming them.

Freedom to lead. Her interests decided what we talked about next, not a plan I had in mind.

Supporting, not directing. I helped translate her voice when needed, but I didn’t push. I simply stayed close, attentive.

Curiosity as its own reward. There was no prize for learning the flower names, no pressure to remember them, just a feeling of joy and belonging to the world.

And we were designing the interaction together. ChatGPT became a tool we used to build bridges between her questions and the world around us. She learned that asking opened new paths. I learned that technology could help us connect with the world around us, not just skim.

arned that technology could help us connect with the world around us.

This little run reminded me. When we slow down and open the space, the world itself can speak back to teach us.

And wonder, not efficiency, becomes the shared mood about the moment.