I can’t believe I ate the whole thing

Admit it. You’ve probably said this at some point or other (unless of course, you are extremely self disciplined). But tell me, did you say it with some amount of pleasure (a little laugh perhaps) or just plain discomfort? Or maybe a little of both - as is often the case with me. 

In my case, however, the sentiment goes with things other than food. Yes, I often bite off more than I can chew. Or I forget how much chewing is involved. Yes. I often sign up for more than I can handle, more than my body can handle. I often don’t realize how much it is going to hurt the next day, or week. And just because I can do it today – I often will without a care about tomorrow. (okay okay, the care may still be there – but I will still go ahead and do it – just because I can - today).

Since there seem to be few energy reserves, it would be sensible to not tire myself out. But what would be the fun in that level-headedness, if it keeps me away from new experiences and the things I like to do? Sigh…I don’t know if this is a smart way to live or just plain mad. As I write this achy, tired, sore, completely wiped out – I have to admit, it does seem plain mad.

About three weeks ago, I felt so weak and ill, I thought I was headed for the hospital. Some meds and weeks later, I perked up and what did I do with the new-found energy? But of course, I went dancing with friends. Yes we danced for hours, forgetting how I had languished on the sofa the day before, the general state of my health, the general state I would be the next day.

I was in the moment and the moment was perfect with music and movement. We lost ourselves in the rhythm and the beat – it was the perfect letting go.  My friend who had recently completed a meditation workshop grimaced on having spent so much money on it. “Why, I could have just come here some 40 times instead!!” I laughed, but I knew her comment said it all. We were only in the moment and our silly dancing seemed to be the perfect way to awaken our inner Zen (??? I know I know…) I knew it had been worth it even if it meant being achy and tired the next day.

I was exactly that. But I wasn’t completely destroyed either. So what did I do with the remaining bits of energy? We went stand-up paddleboarding. I know I know… but my daughter had wanted to try it for a while.  

I hummed and hawed on the wisdom of the matter. Stand- up paddleboarding seemed to be an unchartered territory and I was still tired from the dancing just two days ago. And it probably needed much upper body strength – which is a rather doubtful matter in my case. But hey, the kids were going to do it and it seemed like fun, and the weather was perfect, and I wanted us to do it as a family. The little wise voice asking me to consider energy and health concerns was getting smaller.

I am happy to report it turned out to be a lot of fun and way way easier than I thought. I was surprised that I didn’t fall in the water even once. True, I got left behind several times, drifted from the group, had to be rescued (??), bumped into the pier… and finally sat and even laid down on the board with my feet in the water. Sheepishly, I will admit how much my feet still hurt, how sore I still feel.

Yes. I am glad I went out dancing. And I’m glad I went out paddleboarding. And doing it all in the same weekend in a now sufficiently sore body makes me say “I can’t believe I ate the whole thing”. And I say it with sufficient discomfort and yet, a secret smile.

And despite the not-so-secret-anymore smile, I wonder how we know our limits? How we know ahead of time where pleasure will stop and pain will kick in. How we know ahead of time the amount of discomfort involved? Or the tilt of scale between the secret smile and the discomfort.

How much of a good thing is good enough? How much of a good thing do we need to keep our spirit awakened and alive, without depleting us? How often do we say, how often will we say, “I can’t believe I ate the whole thing?”

p.s. when I started writing, I thought it was going to be a humorous piece. Hmm… maybe fatigue slays humor. Worth thinking about huh?