Remember the simple things in life
Is there a time in human history when so much has been taken for granted by so many? I’m no historian, but privilege on such a widespread scale must be at its peak, right?
I’m not about to argue against that – I’m a beneficiary of largesse on a scale my greatgrandparents would never believe.
But I do reckon we could be better at appreciating what we have.
It’s easy to be oblivious to the mundane, to not even give a second thought to things that make our lives easier.
Take the humble hot shower.
When you had one this morning, or last night, did you even give it a second thought? Or was it just a chore that needed doing before you raced out the door.
The concept of gratification for the everyday has been on my mind since our conversation, for the Dirt Church Radio podcast, with British runner and adventurer Elise Downing.
Downing knows a thing or two about going without the simple pleasures. In 2016, she ran the length of the British coastline – one long lap which took her from London to London in 301 days.
That’s a lot of nights in tents (though she was also hosted by plenty of people who showed her hospitality), a lot of days spent scrambling along rocky paths, a lot of time spent feeling sweaty and scraggly.
But, along the way, she learnt to smell the roses, to take time to enjoy the good things in life. And by good things, she means the normal things, like warm socks.
And the mindset has stuck. She told us about a day last year when she and some friends were out for a running adventure on a hot day.
‘‘We came across this tiny little car park in the middle of nowhere with a truck selling the best ice lolly I’ve ever had.
‘‘We still are talking about that ice lolly nearly a year later. It’s just those moments, I think, I like about running: it makes the stuff that normally seem so boring, so exciting. You go for a run and you get to have a shower and put on a warm jumper, or have an ice lolly and it’s just the best.’’
As Downing talked about the ‘‘ice lolly’’, as she called it, I remembered a time when a lemonade ice block had tasted as good as a Michelin-star meal.
It was a few summers back when I was running the Hillary Trail (before the Kauri dieback closures) on an all-day trek with my good mate, Shaun.
The cicadas were singing, the po¯ hutukawa trees were blooming and the day could not have been better – until, somewhere between Karekare and Piha, on a hot, hot track, I ran out of water.
It wasn’t the end of the world, I wasn’t about to shrivel up through dehydration, but, boy, I was looking forward to a drink by the time I got down the hill into Piha.
We’d always planned to stop at the dairy to grab some lunch and replenish our bottles but, while we were in there, I spotted a lemonade ice block and I knew I had to have one.
Its sugary, cold goodness set my tastebuds alight and exploded my mind. I’d never