This morning, I barely escaped a collision with a pair of white butterflies. They were frolicking with one another and I got in their way as I ran on the track I hit most mornings as the sun stretches over the Blue Mountains. This track is on the grounds of one of Kingston’s fancier hotels and it is this lush, gorgeous oasis in the heart of the city. Most days, I am alone as I pound out a 10k. Sometimes, there is the odd tourist doing a couple of laps. Always, there are people playing tennis at the court in the surrounded by the track. And always, there is other wildlife I must avoid, like lizards scurrying across the path, hummingbirds sipping nectar from the hibiscus and dim-witted doves just hanging out on the grass. Not only is it a short track at 400 metres, but it is a small space. There are a lot of towering trees, flowering bushes and dense greenery packed into it, however. At first, I thought I would go bananas and feel like a hamster in a wheel. But I have already grown attached to this place and how it lets me escape.

One of the things I love so much about running is the ability it lends me to both focus and to let my mind wander. It offers that ‘flow’ people talk about. I can often set my mind on a problem and have it solved by the end of the run or I ‘write’ columns or stories in my head as my feet strike the pavement. Research has shown lately that exercise stimulates the brain such that new neural pathways are formed. Clearly, I am not a scientist, but I would offer anecdotal evidence supporting this theory.

All this to say is that I have come to love this 400 metre track in the heart of Kingston. It offers me respite from the sun, from my mind, from the people laughing and calling when I run on the streets, from being on guard and from the dirt and dust that’s always floating around. When I moved here, the safety warnings had scared me to the point that I thought I would be stuck on a treadmill or taking up jump rope to get that cardio my body craves. There is no doubt that runners here have to be careful, but I have found a happy compromise. There are several running tracks that offer a safe place to work out. They are also perfumed by blooming flowers and I am always in good company with early risers beating the heat of the day. I especially like Mikey, an older fellow who claims to be a runner. He’s certainly dressed the part, in a mesh tank and running shoes and shorts, but I’ve never seen him running, only chatting to the regulars.

To a certain extent, I have had to modify the way I run. No longer can I tune out 100 per cent, except at these respites I describe. No longer do I simply lace up my shoes and randomly try a new route. I’ve mourned the loss of safety and security a little bit, but am way more grateful to be running in such a beautiful place, where I have near collisions with butterflies and lizards and hummingbirds. Where Dwayne, who tends the gardens around the track tells me I make his day. Where Mikey greets me every time I run and where I can access that place in my brain where new things happen. So how is this my own butterfly effect? This entire train of thought was sparked by almost colliding with a pair of butterflies. This encounter put a smile on my face then launched me into this trajectory. I guess it is true that the flap of a butterfly’s wings can alter the course of events.