Working it…
I was riding my bike today in the warmest, most summer-like day we’ve had yet in the Great White North. I spent my entire 5.6 kilometre bike ride on the verge of breaking into a really good sweat, and I could feel the sun beating down on my back the whole ride.
I’ve really started treasuring my time on my bike. I haven’t done anything physical with my body since 2003, when my parents sold the cows and there was no more real work to be done on the farm. I remember the afternoons in the summer when I would be mucking stalls, cleaning gutters, and bagging corn quite fondly.
One thing I love about working my body to its limits is the breakover feeling, when you go from being warm and slightly clammy to working up a full-blown sweat. I love the feeling of my T-shirt sticking to my back, the way my muscles feel when they flex beneath the damp material. One moment you’re minding your own business, irritated by the sticky, overheated feeling you get at the beginning of a good work out. The next minute, sweat pours down and you feel like you have accomplished something, like you can measure your success by how hard you have to wring your shirt before your mother will let you in the house.
I have hated exercise my whole life, have never been one to get my lazy butt off the couch to work out. But lately this bike-riding thing is really adding a lot to the quality of my life: I’m outside, I’m getting fresh air and vitamin D, I’m getting some exercise and I’m sleeping more soundly at night.
I hate those irritating people who go about extolling the virtues of exercise and how important it is to a healthy lifestyle. I certainly hope I never become one of those people. At the same time, if you can work yourself up to it, I really think its worthwhile to see if exercise might help the fight against depression because thus far, I haven’t noticed any drawbacks.
Exercise, Depression, Treating Depression, Cycling, Insanity
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