The Value Of Discomfort

Went to the gym just now thinking I was in for business as usual, only to discover the air-conditioning had failed. Mr See was there, coming towards the end of his session and he'd already checked all the fuse boxes to no avail. It seems he'd actually turned up in the early afternoon and on discovering the problem had decided it was far too hot inside to risk a workout. By the early evening he'd decided it'd cooled down enough for him to cope and I figured likewise, thus deciding to do my statutory fifty minutes on the elliptical trainer.

The first thirty minutes weren't so bad. I started off at quite a lick, in fact, I suppose based on the notion that the warmth of the environment meant I didn't need to warm-up slowly to the task. But the last twenty minutes saw me struggling, partly I think due to mild dehydration. I was, predictably, perspiring profusely. At the finish I decided not to bother doing anything on the weights, just rushing downstairs to gulp down quite a quantity of water. 

It was something of a reminder of the time I completed the Singapore Marathon, in the early 1990s, and discovered the remarkable degree to which a body could leak sweat. I wasn't quite as exhausted this evening as I had been all those years ago, but I was reminded of the value of the territory you enter when you push yourself further than you really should. On the one hand there's a faint sense of accomplishment in the fact you've kept going; on the other there's a salutary sense of just how limited you really are. Being able to cope with being in an extreme place is, I believe, a genuine sign of depth of character. I hasten to add, however, that I'm not terribly convinced I cope all that well.