Member-only story
The Art Of Re-Interpreting Old Memories
I was dead tired and immobile from my strenuous morning exercise. My kids wanted to play basketball. Like a good dad, I complied with their desire for physical activity.
Their friends had come over and I found myself in a full-on workout. I’d like to say I participated like a good sport, but I was miserable the whole time. I’m not a young guy anymore. When the torture ended, I plopped down on the couch to relax.
I sent a quick note to myself. It was a reminder to record this tiring experience in my evening journal. Six hours later I sat down to write in my journal as part of my bedtime routine. Something peculiar had happened during the eight hours that elapsed.
Memories Change
My memory had changed. I no longer thought of it as an experience that overtaxed my body. By 10 PM, I felt satisfaction about my impressive display of athletic prowess.
I was miserable in the midst of my dual morning workout. When the discomfort dissipated, my opinion changed. I felt proud of the accomplishment. Back when I ran marathons, I hated running the last mile of the race. The pain was excruciating. Within a few hours of finishing, that trauma disappeared, replaced by a feeling of elation and pride.
