4 words: I joined a gym. I never thought I would hear myself say that. A treadmill had always struck me as the most perfect metaphor for going nowhere fast. That said, I’ve long been a biking freak. 12 months out of the year. I put studs on my bike in the winter. Now I find myself living in the Northern Rockies where first it snows, then the sun appears and disappears and everything is coated in ice. Not hospitable to either walking or biking. So I joined a gym. That doesn’t mean I’ve flushed the Cymbalta. It just means that I get out of bed in the very early morning with more will than otherwise. And more joy. And the more people to whom I tell my story of climbing out of depression (we’ve a strong genetic familial link), the more who share theirs with me. Here’s to giving voice. Thank you.