Selective Memory or Evolved Optimism?

Hello Everyone
I was going to wait until I had normal (well, normal by my standards) toenails before reviving the Ironmaiden saga, but it turns out it takes much longer for black toenails to turn pink than it does for pink toenails to turn black.  And as for regrowing the stubborn little suckers that fall off altogether...

Anyway, it got me thinking about how our memories take such a sunny view of things.  I look back on Ironman and remember a wonderful exciting day that I thoroughly enjoyed and entirely intend to repeat someday.  And yet a quick glance at my feet suggests I might not be quite recalling the "full" experience.

We all look back on our long, endlessly sunny childhood summers and wonder why summertime is never as enjoyable anymore.  The weather is never as nice, the season is shorter, it just isn't as good as it was.  But think about it objectively - it might have been many years ago, but it was still New Zealand. Contrary to our golden memories, it did rain sometimes.  We did get sunburnt.  We got stung by wasps. And bees. And jellyfish.  We stubbed our big toe.  It bled.  We stubbed our other big toe.  We broke our big toe.  We broke other toes.  Yet, when we reflect, we just remember the good bits.  We possible overstate the good bits.

So why do we do this?  Why after nine weeks are we forgiving the source of the toenail trauma and already contemplating the next pedicular assault?  I wonder if it is to do with evolution.  After all, surely, if faced with a choice, a sane woman wouldn't go through childbirth a second time?  They say that afterwards it is all worthwhile (well, perhaps after the first 3 months... or 6 or 30 months... have been survived), but seriously?  The physical logistics would suggest it is not something you'd be rushing straight back into without some serious questioning of your sanity. But I've met numerous sane and intelligent women who've gone through the process more than once.  Even more than twice.  And survival of the species has been dependant on women being prepared to go through it twice.  Or more.  Ouch.

So,  my feet are back in service, and new adventures are to come.

Until next time, remember to turn the hall light on so that you don't trip over the same cat twice.
love
Ironmaiden