Pushing Myself

Lucy enjoying the hike, but not thrilled about the photo-op.

I pushed myself recently to do more than I thought I could do.  Well… more like than what I have done almost all year for myself.  This year had been hard for my family, and I took the brunt of it.  I felt the need to take on the stress, to figure everything out while learning to lean on others for help. 

Ordinarily asking for help is a great thing especially when under such overwhelm and stress.  However, when the main stressors were gone, I was still leaning on those assists.  It resulted in my not listening to my body for nutrition nor finding better ways to handle the “new” normal. 

Then, not long ago, there was a sudden family pet death (Patty, the dog) that took a toll on my health.  I gave myself permission to feel the hurt, the sadness, the denial, the grief in its full expression.  I felt like I hit rock bottom.  I learned to honor my grief process, to honor the pet who passed, and realize I had a lot of “future plans” with the pet that never materialized. 

I chose to do hard.  I chose to finally take the first step to make the future plans a reality.  I took Patty’s sister for a hike up a local hill.  It was grueling even when the weather was pleasant.  I kept thinking how I missed Patty.  I also realized Patty would have hated this hike – Patty didn’t really enjoy going on walks much.

You know what helped me get through the discomfort?  It wasn’t will power.  It wasn’t Patty’s sister encouraging me. 

I looked down on the trail which was a combination of 50/50 dirt and loose gravel.  I saw my shoe’s footprint in the dirt going in the opposite direction from me.  To be clear, it was someone else’s footprint.  However, I felt like it was mine with time being irrelevant. 

I kept telling myself “See the footprint? I’ve done this before. I’ve got this!” It got me wondering how much I could support myself if I chose to see my footprint just ahead of me to show me that I’ve already done this activity.  How much more successful would I be?  How much would I believe in myself? 

My guided footprint telling me "I got this!"

My reflections on pushing myself stemmed from a profound realization. It wasn't about the physical exertion alone, but the emotional and mental resilience cultivated through adversity. Each footprint echoed a journey already traversed, a testament to my enduring spirit.

Lucy and I at the halfway point - she was loving every moment of this hike.

This blog was written last summer in July 2024 and was never posted. Lucy passed away in January 2025 at the age of nine years old. I was her human and she was my dog even though she belonged to my parents.

In loving memory of Lucy 2015-2025.