Out on a little run this morning I was pondering on how simple life can be. Yes, of course all of us have worries, issues, problems to a greater or lesser degree. But as with the practice of mindfulness, running a few miles along quiet lanes on a fine morning can reduce the world momentarily to the one you are living in – the buildings, the fields, sky, sun, clouds. Nothing else matters. The past is gone and can’t be changed. The future is uncertain and can be dealt with as and when it comes. You are experiencing and enjoying the now, which is usually, at least, OK.
But the meditative effect of putting one foot in front of the other can also have other, surprising effects. In the past I have suddenly had worrying problems unknot themselves, unbidden, on a long run. I have, now and again, ‘lost’ a mile or so of a run – no recollection of having run the roads which have got me to my present position.
And this morning I thought of a little thing that happened over 50 years ago. It was of no consequence, one of the millions of memories which are generally stored in the dark recesses of one’s brain to stay there, but occasionally to pop to the forefront for no reason. I was still at school and it was the early 1970s. I was in west Cork with a school friend of mine, looking up relatives who were plentiful at that time – aunts, uncles, cousins. We visited a woman whose identity escapes me, but we were aware her daughter (or granddaughter) was celebrating her birthday – maybe her third or fourth. Accordingly we bought a cheap doll, duly arrived at the house, and presented the parcel to the little girl. I don’t think I’ve ever seen wonder on anyone’s face such as that of the little girl as she unwrapped the present and saw the doll. Enraptured, she removed it from the box and clutched it to her chest.
Then she carefully put the doll back into its box and wrapped it up before walking away, returning to it and reliving the joy of opening the present once more.
That little girl will be in her 50s now. If she has children and maybe grandchildren I don’t think they’d be so easily pleased.
Back On The Rock 
What a lovely story…. no wonder it stuck with you all these years…
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Ah thanks Marie, whatever made me think of that I don’t know. There must be a ton of other stuff too…
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I love this post, Roy. You have captured exactly what I appreciated most about running, that meditative and cathartic time alone on the trails with my own thoughts. I miss those times, but am grateful for all those years. Your lovely story about the little girl was a bonus!
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Thanks Jane. Indeed I’m fortunate to be still fit enough to be able to head out for a few miles, forget about pace and just ‘be’ for an hour or so. Everyone needs time out from real life and running is a great method 🙂
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Hear, hear!
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Omg I get that too. I count laps, and most days I do four. It’s 10km though, so each lap is a slog. But there were a couple days when my Fitbit told me I’d reached my target distance, even though I remember running just three laps. The time and distance don’t lie though. No idea where that middle lap went. Interesting, huh?
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Exactly that Stuart. Maybe it’s the brain taking its own time out in the knowledge that it’s not really needed for a while. So much we don’t understand.
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What a FABULOUS memory – and a lesson for us all to learn. I actually remember a favorite uncle visiting my family (I was around 6 and he lived on the other side of the country) and he brought me a doll from one of the ‘far away’ lands he visited on business. I LOVEd that doll, less because she was pretty (she was kind of strange) but MORE because my handsome uncle gave it to me.
Running is such a great way to let go of things and allow memories to arrive front and center.
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Ah thanks Pam, what a nice story. It seems to me the value of the gift to a child was never how expensive it was, but the thought of giving something maybe a little different, plus the person who took the time to think of you.
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You are so right about the pleasures of a simple life. I remember the excitement of getting a Welsh dolly (in national costume) when visiting relatives in Wales in the 60s. First thing I did was check to see if she had knickers on – still do the same!!
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Haha! Ah, bet the dolly had one of those black hats? No one will convince me that little girls won’t naturally go for dolls, and little boys for tractors or trains 🙂
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Of course she had – I named her Blodwyn. She was a gift but my family were very PC with toys. The neighbor boys were so jealous of my machine gun, my pink Cadillac and Fire Truck. I felt like it was Christmas when I had my Mustang Special Bullitt edition in my 40’s. You should have seen my Tokyo drift….
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I’m fascinated by whatever biochemistry releases memories or emotions. Massage therapists speak often of people who suddenly begin sobbing on the table for no reason–likely because the therapist has, in releasing muscle tension in the body, also released the emotions stored with it. I hope some day they figure it all out.
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Indeed Kristine, so much remains a mystery as regards the brain, even to the professionals. I’m presently delving into the world of unexplained happenings – sightings of fairies and the like, ghosts, close encounters with aliens, unidentified aerial phenomena. Much discussion centres on the role played by the human mind and the reality or otherwise of the (many) happenings. Theories are plenty, answers none.
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