Last week, I was told to put distance running on hold to (hopefully) give my spinal cord the best chance of recovery. A major component of my spinal cord injury is the drastic signal change that has happened not only at the site of injury, but above and below it, too. This is usually rectified by surgery, but, for reasons unbeknownst to both myself and the neurosurgery team, it’s actually worsened since the operation.

I started running just three weeks after my ACDF surgery. It was perhaps a little too soon, but it was a measured decision. I’ve battled depression for at least the last three years, and sport, specifically climbing, has always been my crutch. Climbing was, as you can perhaps imagine, off the table, and running became that crutch.

For the last eight(ish) months, I’ve been running three to five times a week in preparation for a marathon. It became my foundation, an essential component of both my physical and mental wellbeing, and the thing that gave me purpose. So while there’s certainly worse things to hear, you can understand why a running embargo would potentially have such a detrimental effect on my mental health.

While the specifics likely differ, I’m sure this is a situation many runners find themselves in. Injured and unable to do the thing they love. Similarly, many runners use the sport to bolster their mental health. Losing it means losing a major coping mechanism, opening up the possibility of a spiralling mental ill health.

But, and there is a but, there’s a common adage that says when one door closes, another opens. I recently took an interest in road cycling after watching the incredible Tadej Pogacar battle Jonas Vingegaard to win the 2024 Tour de France, becoming the first rider to achieve the Giro d’Italia/Tour de France double since 1998. Until witnessing this feat, I’d never been interested in cycling. In fact, if asked what I thought of cycling before this, I’d likely have told you I hated it.

But this reminded me of one of the responses I gave when interviewed by Jason over at runtrimag.com. I once completely loathed the thing that then became one of the most important parts of my life – running.

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I think this exemplifies a couple of things. First, it’s that those of us struggling with depression (and certainly myself) are often blinded or controlled by it. We cast aspersions, or pass judgment, on things that we’ve never even properly tried. We decline ourselves the opportunity of finding happiness because it’s much easier to remain in our comfort zones. We refuse to seek out discomfort.

What’s more, and coming back to the use of sport for coping mechanisms, we place ourselves in a position of volatility by only having one or two ways of coping with our illness. I spent months in a negative headspace in the build up to surgery knowing that it meant the loss of my primary coping mechanism – climbing. But I needn’t have done so, as running swiftly filled that void.

While these are just the rambles of a slightly intoxicated individual on a Wednesday evening, I hope they inspire anybody in similar circumstances to consider the different ways through which they can gain relief from the awful symptoms of ill mental health.

Over the next few weeks and months, I’m going to be making a concerted effort to seek out discomfort, switching the carbon plated shoes for two wheels. I’ve purchased a second-hand road bike, the lycra is en route, and I’ll be clipping in (and hopefully out) of the somewhat confusingly named clipless pedals when confidence allows.

I’m hopeful that this isn’t the end of my journey with running, but in the meantime, let’s see where cycling takes me.