The Lighter Side of: Pushing Too Hard

Everyone experiences limitations.
Some limitations are physical, some are psychological, some limits are based in athletics, some in music, some in art, some in education. These are subjective, ever-changing, and highly personal. These limits and limitations are also reliant on our own goals and participation.
Apart from the very real limits of what a human being can actually do without the help of gadgets or gear, (like flying, reading minds, shooting lasers out of our eyes, etc...) most limits are temporary.
We can change them.
We can move them.
We have the power of conditioning ourselves to move our limits back and forth - as long as we are willing to make sacrifices and focus on our priorities.

I think most of us understand the consequences of pushing past our limits - in anything! If we are trying to do something active that we have never done, our muscles become sore. If we push past those limits, we may end up with a tear, a sprain, even a broken bone. Ligaments and tendons, torn muscles, these are all signs of pushing past physical limits.
There are others.
Like drinking so much alcohol that you wind up requiring emergency care to remove what has become poisonous and even life-threatening.
Overdoses.
Concussions.
Fainting.
Heat Exhaustion.
Severe Dehydration.
Vomiting.
Constipation.
Sunburns.
Organ Failure.

These are all examples of potential consequences of pushing past limits.
They do not happen to everyone, but they happen.

When you throw in a wrench: like an illness, it can be even more difficult to understand where those limits lie. Various types of chronic illness can even change one's own limitations on a daily basis.
I could manage to walk half a block today and not feel much pain or soreness tomorrow, but next week I could struggle to walk even ten steps without either vomiting or welling up with tears from the level of pain I experience.
It becomes more and more difficult to read when our bodies are signaling for us to stop. Or slow down. Or just take a break.

The Lighter Side of pushing too hard is that if you find the sweet spot, pushing too hard just a little bit becomes progress.

I am a full supporter in trying to be informed about your own limitations. This will mean trial and error. It means pushing too hard - pushing past your limits enough to suffer just a bit. I don't mean jumping in feet first when you haven't learned to swim. I just mean giving a little more, trying just that tiny bit harder, to see where your limits truly are. It means tuning into your own body and listening to every little twinge or change. Then, if you want to expand your limits, there are safe ways to work towards it - even with illness.
With yoga, I tend to try new poses or push just that tiny bit farther into a stretch. Sometimes I feel that exhilaration of positive progress, other times I feel the pang of severe nausea creeping in. It depends on the day. It depends on what I have had to eat. It depends on hundreds of different factors - but I keep trying.

With kayaking, I am a little more careful. It doesn't become about how far or how quickly I can paddle, it becomes about how far I can paddle and still manage to get back. I went for a paddle yesterday and it was one of the best days of paddling I have had in a long time. In fact, when I said the words out loud: "I think we should head back", I didn't actually feel as though I needed to leave. (Thank you, Adrenaline). My pain wasn't unbearable, I was not entirely exhausted, I did not feel as though I had reached my limit, but my subconscious sensed it. I had already pushed past my own limit, so I gave in to what my body was somehow signaling.

After I got home, I crashed hard. I couldn't eat. I could barely move. Not from muscle pain. Not even from joint pain. My internal organs were screaming. I experienced severe intestinal inflammation, a migraine, heartburn, stomach pain and cramping, and I could barely stay awake.
Had I pushed more - had I ignored that sudden urge to head back - it may have been a lot worse. There have been times in the past where my own internal system basically went on strike after I paddled too hard or for too long.
You wouldn't think that physical exertion could affect intestines or the stomach the way that it does. If I push too far past my limits - no matter if I am singing, playing piano, paddling, swimming, walking, biking, whatever - it feels like a sledgehammer to my gut and a knife in my back for hours or even days.
But yesterday, I pushed past my limit just that little tiny bit. Enough to feel accomplished and exhilarated, but not so much that I wound up in the ER. I crashed and had a hard time yesterday, but I was able to eat again today.
The lighter side of pushing a little bit too hard yesterday was that I had such a phenomenal experience that did not put me in the hospital.
That is an important distinction.
One that I am grateful for.
I got to paddle and it didn't feel like hell for long afterwards!