PUSHING THE ENVELOPE

  Pushing the Envelope, Without It Pushing Back

Pushing the Envelope means to surpass normal limits, any boundary pushing activity, or attempting something that might be viewed as radical or risky in achieving a new physical accomplishment. Two good examples would be the advances you see every four years in the challenging sports of Olympic snowboarding and gymnastics.

As a hiker, I constantly pushed the envelope, increasing the number of mountains to climb. First, it was all the mountains in the New York Adirondack High Peak Region over four-thousand feet. Then I added the New Hampshire four-thousand footers, then all the sixty-eight New England four thousand footers, the peaks of the Catskills of New York over thirty-five hundred feet, then the hundred highest peaks in New England, the hundred highest in New York, climbing the Presidential Mountains in New Hampshire in winter including Mt. Washington, and many more in New York and New England in winter, from day hiking to backpacking, from trail walking to bushwhacking and route finding where there are no trails, snowshoeing, climbing with crampons and ice axe in subzero temperatures and windchills, pushing the envelope. The list goes on.

Now, my envelope is more limited, just getting through the night and getting out of bed with minimum pain. That has proved to be bigger than life, way beyond my hiking challenges. My wife and kids are hoping I show some measure of improvement following my recent emergency back surgery. They expect me to tell them that I am experiencing less pain each day or week or month. One month following my surgery, I'm experiencing the same pain. Am I discouraged? I am being tested, but I do view progress in my own way. My rationale is, if I define the envelope as the boundary, threshold, or limit where I experience the same pain, then I'm making headway if I'm pushing or expanding the envelope, meaning expanding my activity and mobility within that pain envelope or threshold. I'm doing more, achieving better performance, at the same pain. One thing I've done is graduate from a walker to my trusty hiking poles, the indoor ones with rubber tips to protect the hardwood floors and rugs, the outdoor ones with carbide tips for gripping the terrain. What self-respecting hiker would ever use a walker. Expanding the envelope, I just "hiked" to the back yard to inspect the bird feeder. I'm also starting to cook out on the propane fired grill on the back deck.

As the engineer in me, another way at looking at this is to imagine a spherical snow globe with its outer transparent surface and inner volume, detail, and scenery. The surface area of a sphere is proportional to the square of its diameter or D². The volume of a sphere is proportional to the cube of its diameter or D³. The ratio of its volume to surface area is proportional to D³ divided by D² which equals D. Think of the surface area as the envelope, my pain boundary or threshold. The volume is my performance, my mobility, the positive advances in my recuperation. As I recover from surgery and push the envelope or its diameter, D, the ratio of my performance to my pain threshold increases proportionally to the diameter, D. As I recuperate, the snow globe keeps getting bigger with increasing detail and performance. That is good.

If I exceed or push beyond the envelope, I'll pay for my indulgence, resulting in higher pain, setting me back in my recuperation. It's best not practicing the "no pain-no gain" philosophy, rather staying behind the pain. In my overconfidence, I exceeded the pain limit and am paying the price. Just when I was feeling better for a few days, I seems like I'm starting all over again. My wife and kids encouraged me to stand up straighter in my back brace, which I will be wearing for three months to assure and protect the slow fusion process of vertebrae in my low back. I'm too bent over in my walker (one with wheels and tennis balls). So, I leaned back against the counter and held myself straighter, happy to do so, feeling kind of good in the place where it hurts. That night I experienced severe muscle spasms. I had exceeded the pain boundary, envelope, or threshold, not staying within it. My question is, when and what is too much? How do you push the envelope without tearing past it? Two steps forward, one step back is ok. Sometimes it's two steps back. When I push the envelope, I wish it didn't push back so hard.