Why I write this.

I am not a doctor. I am not a coach. I am a person who, for a long time, did not know how heavy I had become until the day I could not stand up. This blog is the slow project of describing what happened next, and why a bicycle keeps appearing in every chapter.

Depression and burnout are not the same thing, but in my body they felt indistinguishable. A flatness. A static. A sense that the future had been quietly cancelled. The first thing that brought me back was not a pill, not a therapist (though both arrived later and mattered a great deal). It was an old steel bike and a flat road.

What you will find here

Stories, mostly. Some short, some long. Notes from rides — solo trips, repeating loops, an occasional ambitious week away from everything. I am not interested in optimisation, performance, or converting you to anything. I am interested in honest writing about a difficult subject, and in the small daily practice of moving anyway.

Movement is not a cure. It is a conversation between a body and a mind that have stopped talking to each other.

A note on care

Please do not use this blog as treatment. If you are struggling, speak to someone qualified. The rides helped me — they were never the only thing that helped me. Therapy, friends, medication at certain points, and a great deal of patience all share the credit.