Trancendance
To transcend is to cross over to another realm, another place and or, a new way of thinking. And I think I've managed that, finally. For the first time in decades... I think I've broken my depression. Conquered it? No. Banished it? Not likely. And yet, for days now I simply have stopped feeling terrible. The ever present sensation of doom and struggle seems to have abated. For three days now my life feels like it belongs to me again. That I don't "owe" everyone something. Very strange... And wonderful.
And it can only be the exercise. Constant and abusive and relentless exercise. In the beginning, two months ago it was a struggle. I'd take a ride of 5 miles or so and they turn my back on it for a week and feel guilty. Then I'd take another ride and over do things and nurse my knee's for another week and feel like a loser. But eventually those short little rides began to get longer. For a while 10 miles was a sensible goal. 10 miles at once seemed like a lot of distance. And then 15 was a struggle. And a week later when I first did 20 miles I thought I wanted to die. Both on the ride and at home afterwords. The pain... The knee's. The tendons. The ligaments. Strange pains in funny places. And still I found the company of the ever present sadness, sitting in the corner, mocking my efforts. Telling me that I should be doing other things. That this was a waste.
The day I first broke the 30 mile mark I felt elation and panic. It hurt so bad that I was certain I'd damaged something. And maybe I did. Because I didn't ride again for another week for the pain in my knee's. But then on the 8th day I rode a paltry 17 miles. Ha. Its funny that 17 miles doesn't seem like so much to me now. Weird. But the day after that ride, I rode 30 miles more. And it was amazing. My legs. They felt so strong. I wasn't struggling to ride 30 miles that day. I was pushing hard and in top gear... boom, boom, boom, I'd pedal down the path. Not crawling. But racing. Consuming the miles and the path and the heat and the pain. Consuming the very horizon. Eyeing things almost out of sight on the pathway ahead and having them equally at my back 30 minutes later. Riding through 2 and then 3 different citys in a single trip. And the whole of the world began to get smaller incromentally. Slowly... but really not so slowly, I began occupying virtually every corner of the map I used to plan these rides. I didn't expect to find empowerment on these bike paths, but thats what was out there for me.
Well as soon as I had 30 miles under my belt I set my sights on 40 and eventually, last friday, i made my first 50 mile ride. Not my first 50 mile ride since my twentys. My first 50 mile ride ever... At 52 years of age and with 2 months of training, I managed to break the 50 mile mark. And not on one of those slick "Lance Armstrong" racing bikes. On a $50 aluminum mountain bike on leaky old tire's that need air before every ride. And I get passed on every ride by those slick looking guys on their racing bikes. But that doesn't matter. Because with every mile I cover, I feel stronger and more capable. These days I'm looking farther and farther from home for my challenges. 60 miles and 80 miles and 100 miles. All of it now within reason.
And then last week I began to examine my feelings on the sadness. That ever present companion of mine for so many years that it became the norm. Was it 20 years? 30 years? Maybe 40 years. I couldn't tell you really because its been so long. But last week I began examining my feelings and asking myself if I felt any different. But I couldn't tell. I wasn't certain. But I started to wonder at my moods. But by this weekend I was certain. Days had passed. Several of them in a row. And I've never had several days in a row that I didn't feel like something swirling in the gutter. I hadn't had several hours in a row that I didn't feel like trash. But now... as if my magic. I simply felt "alright" Not elated. Not manic. Not joyous. I simply no longer felt horrid.
I have my life back.
And it can only be the exercise. Constant and abusive and relentless exercise. In the beginning, two months ago it was a struggle. I'd take a ride of 5 miles or so and they turn my back on it for a week and feel guilty. Then I'd take another ride and over do things and nurse my knee's for another week and feel like a loser. But eventually those short little rides began to get longer. For a while 10 miles was a sensible goal. 10 miles at once seemed like a lot of distance. And then 15 was a struggle. And a week later when I first did 20 miles I thought I wanted to die. Both on the ride and at home afterwords. The pain... The knee's. The tendons. The ligaments. Strange pains in funny places. And still I found the company of the ever present sadness, sitting in the corner, mocking my efforts. Telling me that I should be doing other things. That this was a waste.
The day I first broke the 30 mile mark I felt elation and panic. It hurt so bad that I was certain I'd damaged something. And maybe I did. Because I didn't ride again for another week for the pain in my knee's. But then on the 8th day I rode a paltry 17 miles. Ha. Its funny that 17 miles doesn't seem like so much to me now. Weird. But the day after that ride, I rode 30 miles more. And it was amazing. My legs. They felt so strong. I wasn't struggling to ride 30 miles that day. I was pushing hard and in top gear... boom, boom, boom, I'd pedal down the path. Not crawling. But racing. Consuming the miles and the path and the heat and the pain. Consuming the very horizon. Eyeing things almost out of sight on the pathway ahead and having them equally at my back 30 minutes later. Riding through 2 and then 3 different citys in a single trip. And the whole of the world began to get smaller incromentally. Slowly... but really not so slowly, I began occupying virtually every corner of the map I used to plan these rides. I didn't expect to find empowerment on these bike paths, but thats what was out there for me.
Well as soon as I had 30 miles under my belt I set my sights on 40 and eventually, last friday, i made my first 50 mile ride. Not my first 50 mile ride since my twentys. My first 50 mile ride ever... At 52 years of age and with 2 months of training, I managed to break the 50 mile mark. And not on one of those slick "Lance Armstrong" racing bikes. On a $50 aluminum mountain bike on leaky old tire's that need air before every ride. And I get passed on every ride by those slick looking guys on their racing bikes. But that doesn't matter. Because with every mile I cover, I feel stronger and more capable. These days I'm looking farther and farther from home for my challenges. 60 miles and 80 miles and 100 miles. All of it now within reason.
And then last week I began to examine my feelings on the sadness. That ever present companion of mine for so many years that it became the norm. Was it 20 years? 30 years? Maybe 40 years. I couldn't tell you really because its been so long. But last week I began examining my feelings and asking myself if I felt any different. But I couldn't tell. I wasn't certain. But I started to wonder at my moods. But by this weekend I was certain. Days had passed. Several of them in a row. And I've never had several days in a row that I didn't feel like something swirling in the gutter. I hadn't had several hours in a row that I didn't feel like trash. But now... as if my magic. I simply felt "alright" Not elated. Not manic. Not joyous. I simply no longer felt horrid.
I have my life back.
Replies
This is an awesome journal and very inspiring. Did you hit the100 mile mark yet? Very impressive the way you\'ve pushed yourself. They say exercise is good for the body, mind and soul. It sounds like you\'re proving that theory right! Good for you!