Pushing yourself can be a good or a bad thing

We own a television in our house. My daughter and I like to rent the occasional movie. We don’t have cable. I haven’t subscribed to cable for 10 years now. It started because I had to cut back on expenses when I began single parenting when my daughter was 5 months old. My daughter and I used to go over and visit my grandmother several days a week when we lived ¾ of a mile from her. Somewhere along the way I realized that trips to grandma’s house had become more about watching different television series being aired on certain nights of the week. Grandma and I would watch our show while my daughter watched the Disney channel in the other room. When I realized what was happening I felt very discontent about it. We started going to grandmas less. She was hurt, but I felt we had to do it to break the habit. It worked. I’m not exactly sure when it happened, but somewhere along the way I found that I was not addicted to finding out how the next murder mystery would be solved. Therefore we continued the tradition of no cable in the home even when we could afford it. Finding things to occupy my time without T.V. was easy. I discovered a passion for remodeling my old home. I learned how to refinish wood floors. I put a chain-link fence around my backyard on my own. I painted, wallpapered, and redecorated. I even sold Party-Light Candles long enough to furnish my lovely home with many of the things I fancied in their catalogs. Then I discovered a love for gardening. The first summer I tried for rhubarb and strawberries, all the while dreaming of strawberry-rhubarb pie. A peacock that had decided to make our neighborhood his home enjoyed eating all the plants before they could produce a thing. I gave up on the garden and began plotting to get rid of the peacock. He liked to perch on top of my garage. One day I decided to chase him off with rocks. He wasn’t impressed, and after I chased him from the garage he chased me around a bit. I think that’s when we decided our dislike of each other was mutual. Next I decided that ignoring him might be my best option; until he began to eat the cat food from the dishes on my front porch. Then he also began munching on the annual blooms growing near the porch. In my opinion, he was just asking for it. I called animal control and asked them to take care of the situation. They left a note on the door saying they never saw a peacock. I didn’t buy it. In his hatred for me the peacock had decided to make my yard his primary place of residence. Not a day went by when I didn’t see him. Therefore, I called them back and very nicely told them that if they did not remove the peacock immediately I would be shooting him with my gun. Ha! I don’t even own a gun, let alone know how to shoot one! They advised me that this would be illegal and I should reconsider my idea. I advised them that there would be one less peacock in the world if they didn’t pick him up by the week’s end. I never did see that peacock again.
By this time I had worked at a research extension office for some time where I had learned a whole lot about having a green thumb, and by golly I developed mine! I filled my front yard with colorful shrubs, flowering perennials, and bright flowering bushes. When winter came I longed for spring when I could try my hand at planting something, anything. Spring would arrive and I would cherish pulling weeds as I recalled how good gardening seemed to be for my soul. I was bringing home twiggy things and bulbs, nurturing them, and watching them all glow from all the love and care.
Then I began working out again. I told myself I had to go to the gym at least 5 days a week for 6 weeks before I could slow down to a more doable pace. This way I could be sure the exercise would be a part of my normal routine. That first week I would come home from the gym and groan with every step I took up my porch. I’ve always been fairly active, but suddenly I found that I had muscles I had long forgotten about. After that first week though, it was great. I began to make friends, I was trying out all kinds of classes, I was full of energy, and I felt beautifully confident! I was always a runner on the track team in high school. Running the mile was my main event. So, I decided to start running again. Just a mile here or there. One day I ran five miles, and decided I should just strive for more. Roughly six weeks later I competed in a half marathon. I don’t know where I placed. My daughter had the flu for days before the race, and it turned out I was coming down with it too. I didn’t figure this out though until about mile 7 the day of the race. I was lagging behind and didn’t understand why I felt so bad and had no energy. I thought of pretending to use the restroom and sneaking back to my car. Instead I pushed on and finished. I don’t know if I have ever sprinted as hard as I did when I saw that finish line looming ahead. Onlookers probably thought I was so proud to be finishing that I was going to give it my all. Truthfully, I needed to vomit or something and I was just ready for all this running to come to an end. I was so delirious by the time I finished that I walked around for half an hour in a daze because I couldn’t remember where I had parked my car and I just needed to get home! I spent the next couple of hours lying on my bathroom floor. The extensive pressure of running 13 miles on a hot day only fueled the virus that was ransacking my body.
This is what I have learned. I’m a much more productive person when I’m not glued to a television. However, allowing pride and thoughts of all the work poured into training drive a person to finish a race that something is telling them to walk away from will inevitably end in disaster. Or possibly just hours of hanging your head over a toilet, followed by days of dehydration.