I had a great moment of clarity, a realization, that I physically push myself too much. As I shared this realization with a few close people in my life they all looked at me as if this was glaringly evident to all but me.
I came to the realization that I wasn’t in tune to my body while in yoga. After a surgery I had a few months ago limited my exercise greatly, I increased the amount of yoga I am doing.
We were instructed in yoga to not push ourselves if we found the position painful—but I couldn’t determine if my discomfort was physical pain or laziness. I found myself thinking of how I ended up here in the first place, and realized I don’t listen to my pain out of fear of laziness.
A few months ago, I was on the treadmill, my short run felt more difficult than usual, and I began to have tremendous pain in my lower abdomen. I thought to myself “you hurt because you want to quit, you want to be lazy, you need to push through”. I pushed through, grabbed my side and tried to keep running, until i felt I was going to pass out. I laid down in the women’s locker room, without the strength to stand, afraid that at any moment I’d pass out. The pain continued throughout the night and my partner asked if we should go to the hospital. I said no, that it could wait until morning, I needed to suck it up. I would later find out that my fallopian tube had ruptured on the treadmill and that I had stupidly “powered through”.
During a 1/2 Ironman ( 1.9km swim, 90km bike ride, 21.1km run) I also felt abdominal pain, but I kept telling myself that I clearly hadn’t trained enough and needed to power through. I had completed the swim, and bike, and was at about mile 7 (11km) when I decided to go ahead and stop and check myself in the bathroom. I pulled down my shorts to find my shammy (the cushion part of bike shorts) was no longer able to contain all the blood I was losing and had overflowed and collected in the lining of my spandex shorts. I had miscarried during the race, and realized it at that moment, and contemplated whether I should continue, and run the last 6 mi (10km). I still am slightly disappointed with myself that I didn’t finish the race, and at the same time, I logically know that was best. I went to the medical tent where a doctor scolded me that I had miscarried, had a blood disorder and was “clearly dehydrated” (his words) and needed to go to an emergency room immediately. I lied through my teeth and convinced the doctor I was fine, and just needed some aspirin and promised I would go to an emergency room closer to home (I was about an hour away) where I knew my insurance would work. I got a ride home from a friend and slept and hydrated.
I thought of these two stories during yoga, and realized I need to just accept the fact that things hurt and it isn’t out of laziness or not trying. Does this mean I am a type A personality? That make me so sad if I am.