Wednesday 9 November 2011

How much pain can we take?

When do we say we’ve had enough? Or do we? We are strange creatures we humans.


I was thinking about this the other day as well wishes poured in to a friend’s Facebook page. She’s a kick boxer who’s been actively training this year for her first fight. At the very least it was to be her only first and only fight, but I wondered (myself having trained intensively for 5 marathons and vowing just before each one it was to be my last) if it would be***. For most people just the prospect of going into the ring to fight would illicit feelings of terror, but she was also excited and very much looking forward to the experience. 

We have an amazing ability to block away the pain when an event is exciting or emotionally stimulating. Look at mothers who go through the pain of childbirth again and again. Before having my first child I was petrified. As much as I wanted that child, I was terrified of the pain I knew was coming. But shortly after the birth, while holding my newborn son I could barely remember the hurt. And against everything I would have predicted I remember telling my husband at the time that I could do it again, and did.

During my first marathon, where I pushed through the pain of a ripped-off big toenail for the last six miles, I never would have dreamed I would consider even coming close to wanting to do another. Yet walking away from the finish line, with the heavy medal thumping satisfyingly against my chest I was already planning it.

I think the more enjoyable the experience (or perhaps the final outcome) the more likely you are to block the memory of the pain. I’ve fallen on my mountain bike and ended up bruised, scraped and scarred more often than I’d like to admit. I’ve had to limp out of a trail because I couldn’t ride due to a  particularly bad fall, yet I love being on the bike, and the moment I see those trails I long to get back on the bike and ride, even though falling is a very real and painful conclusion. My husband broke his collarbone riding a couple months back and all he can talk about is getting back on the trails. We must mentally produce some kind of “hurt beta blockers” that only allow us to recall the fun we had.

Lately I’ve been sidelined by heel pain (known among runners as plantar fasciitis). I’m unable to run any decent distance without hurting afterwards. I am trying to be good and give it time to heal properly by stretching, icing, and exercises and most importantly, not running. That last piece is the most difficult. I know if I run, it’s going to hurt, yet the satisfaction I get when running would overshadow any pain experienced…until afterwards. I am resisting, but there are times I’m sorely tempted.

And it doesn’t stop at physical pain. I’ve had my heart broken so many times, once to the point where I didn’t eat for nearly a week because I hurt so much, and still I continued to open myself up to the possibility of falling in love. Because as corny as it sounds, true and honest love is worth it.

Maybe it simply comes down this, “It is always by way of pain one arrives at pleasure.”~Marquis de Sade.

***btw...For what it’s worth my money’s on “no”…;0)