20 Kilometres

Having the ever thrilling combination of depression and anxiety often makes it difficult to a.) find motivation and b.) try new things.  This weekend, I did both. I biked 20km today.  And it all happened before noon.

As an extension to the Cognitive Behavioural Therapy course I took this past spring, I have been instructed to ‘try new things’ (even if I don’t enjoy them).  Having depression means losing interest in previously enjoyed activities and part of my last depressive relapse has involved just that.  So the focus here is more on the success of the participation than the enjoyment level of said activity.  Following a plan instead of a mood.

With the help of my partner-in-crime, I dragged myself out of bed and prepped for a bike ride.  I grumbled.  I dragged my feet.  I complained about there being ‘no point’.  And somehow it still managed to happen.  The scale on which success is measured is so varied when depression is a factor that I hesitate to add a label.  Contrary to popular belief, I didn’t undergo any dramatic mood upswings as a result, but I did integrate a short term sense of pride into the rest of my day (!).  Ten kilometres there and ten back.  20 kilometres on a new (to me) route.  That’s something.