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!

The Lighter Side of: Limits

Chronic illness has an inventive way of limiting what we do, or more accurately, how we do things.
Having illness does not necessarily mean that we have to stop doing things that we love. What illness tends to do is force us to prioritize what is more important.
Every person has a limitation of some kind. Perhaps there are financial obligations to be met. There are only 24 hours in a day, and people cannot live for long on zero sleep. Our physical bodies do have limitations, so even the average person must decide what they can do, what they must do, and what they would like to do, and find a balance between those three.
Now, if you add in malfunctions of that physical body, those limitations may be altered. Sometimes, if we are lucky, it will allow us to do things that average people cannot. For the vast majority of situations, though, illness may force us to give up certain activities or to go about them in a different manner.

This is not all bad.
Learning that you can still enjoy what you love even if you have to go about it differently is a true eye-opener. Suddenly the world seems to have fewer limits.
Limitations encourage us to prioritize, to really take stock of our lives and decide what we want to be doing.
It also forces us to come to terms with real-life consequences.

When I was playing volleyball competitively, after every single tournament, I would wind up in the ER and sometimes even admitted to the hospital for a couple of days. I would have significant bleeding in my intestines, severe dehydration, drastic weight loss, and I would require additional nutrition and fluids pumped into my veins.
For me, volleyball was worth every bad flare and every awful episode.

After developing Ankylosing Spondylitis, however, when I tried playing volleyball, that ended up being the only thing I could do. My joints would grind together and cause excruciating pain, pain that even I could not ignore. Suddenly I could not jump serve or even overhand serve. My spiking was limited - I could no longer jump as high and my shoulder blades would be on fire.
What did this do?
This forced me to change my position. After years and YEARS of playing Middle or Power positions, I had to learn how to be a setter. I had previously thought this was absolutely unattainable.
As it turns out, I was a decent setter!
I wasn't amazing, but I could manage basic sets, as well as some 3
51s, 33s, shoot sets, and even some 75s, 71s, and the odd 31. That was more than I ever thought was possible with my setting skills. I learned how to pass better as well and became more confident in my entire game, instead of primarily spiking and serving.
Unfortunately, several months after that, the pain became too unbearable to even manage that. The running, diving, and the pressure on my SI joint and hips were far too great to justify the sport.

My softball performances had a similar trajectory. After years of playing the bases or even shortstop on occasion, and sometimes field, I could not longer play those positions. Even running the bases became too painful. My body was losing muscle, and quickly. I was becoming weaker and my joints were becoming stiffer. So what did I do? I played back-catch and we had a runner for me a lot of the time. Of course, that too came to an end, but for the time I played back-catch I really enjoyed myself!! I was always comfortable on the field, never scared of the ball, which made that position even more fun! I proceeded to wear cute little pink outfits and intentionally look like a guest back-catch that was just there to fill a spot, and then play my little heart out. Batting was still something I could do, I just could no longer run. I was on a more competitive recreational team, and requiring a runner was too much hassle, so I left softball. But I know I can still hit. I know I can still catch. One day I may join a fully recreational/beer-league team just to get back out there.

I, instead, turned to other activities.
Rather than putting all of my energy into one activity I cannot even give 100% at anymore, I decided to spread my interests around several things.
I always felt limited artistically to music.... but it turns out that I was able to learn. I have learned how to draw and paint simple projects, and I learn more and more each and every day.

I grew up believing I had many limitations.
Now I know that my limitations rest in my body, and that even then, if I really put my mind to it, I can do so much more than it feels. It is all a matter of sacrifice and risk.
There are certain things I am willing to risk for my health, but so many others that I cannot risk my health to do.
I do have to be more careful in general. I do have to watch the amount of pressure I put on my joints and the amount of risk I take with my physical health. What used to take me a few days to recover now takes weeks or months. An injury now takes months or even an entire year to recover from. I have had to make really tough decisions on what is worth the risk. These days, resting in bed and practicing yoga are the two main components of my life. I can spend one day every few weeks doing something more active or leaving the house for a date or a night with friends. After a day like that, it takes me weeks to recuperate. So I have to choose my activities wisely. If I over-do it, it is not just a matter of 'sleeping it off'. It is about more injections, trips to the emergency room, increases in medication, and flare-ups of multiple conditions that have me writhing in pain 24 hours a day.  Risking those consequences for a simple game is no longer a priority. If I am going to have a major fall-out like that, it has to be something I truly enjoy.

The Lighter Side of limits is that whenever there is another limitation thrown my way, another limitation has lifted in some fashion.

I find it so intriguing how many limitations we place upon ourselves that are a figment of our imaginations - like not being good at something. We need to remember that we are able to learn. Illness has taught me, above anything else, that our bodies and minds are adaptable, changeable, and able to be conditioned.
So when your body says "no", look in another direction.

My body may not allow me to run or even walk very far, but that is what we have tools like canes and wheelchairs for! My body may not allow me to be awake very long each day, but that is when I can take advantage of the days I feel a little bit better. My body may not allow me to play team sports anymore, but that is what yoga, swimming, and even obstacle courses are for. I do not have to be 'good' at everything, but I am willing to try anything to see what my new limitations are, because those are ever-changing.