It’s dark outside, quiet around me. The light in the living room is dim, I’m alone with the tomcat, enjoying a glass of wine. My wife is at a theater performance that I chose not to attend because something about its title didn’t appeal to me — though now I can’t even remember what the title was. The title of the performance, that is.

I wonder whether I would be enjoying this glass of wine at all if, earlier this afternoon, the canine levels of willpower I exerted on the gym treadmill — in an attempt to get back in shape — hadn’t been crowned with success. That is, if I hadn’t managed to run my full one-hour quota, but had instead dropped out from exhaustion, gasping for breath, giving up in defeat 15, 20, or even 30 minutes before the end. In that case, mentally, I would have classified myself among the pot-bellied dads shuffling along “for their health” on the neighboring treadmill, while my more athletic, better self would have retreated even further into the fog.

To those wondering why I’m bothering to write this at all, I would say that even small pebbles can overturn a cart. This proverb has been circling in my head for quite some time now.

In the context of exhaustion, small pebbles start to sting. If you’re running full of energy, there’s no problem at all — you’re not even running, you’re practically flying. But if you’re already struggling on the treadmill after, say, 40 minutes of running, many things can turn into small pebbles. For instance, the gym blasting your most hated American rap music. Or the clucking of some vapid girl loudly explaining on the phone to another similar one how her hairdresser appointment went and which hairstyle options she was choosing between — especially if you yourself are afraid of going bald. Or maybe the reflection in the window of someone doing sit-ups, if your waistline has expanded a little lately. Or some other visual, auditory, or verbal reflection of your weak spots.

Or perhaps an entire series of such “reflections,” whispering — or even shouting — “You can’t do it, give up, you’re not good enough, you’re tired, sit down…” Of course, I’m exaggerating. I just wanted to say how important it sometimes is to be thick-skinned, ignorant, tough as leather — and to “finish your run” despite everything. After that, the wine tastes better too.