We Don’t Need More Pills — We Need More Running
Sometimes the cure is a long, slow run
I’ve battled depression and addiction for 2/3 of my life.
I’ve faced demons I didn’t invite and sadness I didn’t ask for in my 38-year journey on this planet. The glass completely shattered when my dad unexpectedly passed away. I’m still sweeping up the pieces of glass and finding random chunks — a reminder that healing never stops.
The bottle became my new toxic best friend, but fortunately, I made the life-altering decision to throw the bottle down and haven’t had a sip since last summer. A key reason for my success in recovery has been my return to an old flame I used to be in love with, but ultimately walked away and turned my back on due to my selfish desires.
Running.
Now I’m back on the saddle, wild and free, and the skies are bluer than they’ve ever been.
But there’s always been a dark cloud appearing out of the blue sometimes and trying to cover up the beaming sun as it shines down on me.
Depression.
We go way back, well before I fell in love with running. A majority of my life going back to the days of my early youth has been spent struggling with off-and-on sadness.
