I was out for a run at lunchtime in Regent's Park, and, as often happens, I had to run through a bunch of primary school children from a local school being exercised there by their teachers. There are lots of runners in Regent's Park, so we are not an unfamiliar sight to the children. Also the children are quite well supervised, so I never (for example) get any shouting out at me or anything. Basically the children ignore me, which is as it should be.
However, what amazes me is how they just "don't see" runners. I am quite big, and it's broad daylight, and I am running towards the group -- they are spread out over a very large area, so it would not be easy for me to go round them entirely, but there are big gaps in between them and I just stay on the path, which goes through their area. I can't be that easy to miss, and the human eye is tuned to pick up on objects moving towards the viewer . . . . but nearly always, they will just walk into me, or right in front of me. I don't really mind, as I can dodge them, I just find it fascinating how they seem to operate within a little zone with about a one-foot radius, and they seem almost literally blind. They are in their own little world.
I'm not sure what's going on there. Whether it's some sort of programming not to acknowledge unfamiliar adults -- but you'd think that even if they avoided looking at me or acknowledging me, they'd also avoid walking into my path. It genuinely seems to be that they constrict their attention very tightly. If so, I can understand how small children are very vulnerable to traffic and other hazards. On the towpath once (where there isn't much room to pass) I saw a group of them coming and just stopped and stood still -- and more than one of them simply walked into me. Again, just as if they were literally blind. How do they avoid walking into lamp-posts and other obstacles? I'm not sure that they do!
Well, you know what the moral of the story will be. It's interesting to play with your own zone of attention, try contracting it, try expanding it, see how much of the time you can keep it "out there" and avoid being like one of these small children. My apologies for being so blatantly didactic.
