March last year I sat in a doctor’s office, answering questions I’d answered a million times before. There is this diagnostic test for depression, and the questions seem to be designed to make you feel even more miserable – ‘I feel like life isn’t worth living’, ‘I don’t enjoy anything’ are statements you can agree or disagree with. In the past I’d left the doctor feeling vindicated that I did not have depression. This time, the doctor concluded from my answers and my softly spoken demeanor that it was a different diagnosis. Medication was prescribed, and my battle to beat the beast began.
A month before I had run my first ever OCR, the Warrior Dash. It was a muddy fiesta of anxiety, joy, friendship and mud. At that finish line, I could have cried because it was the first time I’d fought to get to the finish of something that I’d thought impossible for me. That 5km glimpse into the world of OCR was in the back of my mind as the doctor scribbled out a prescription.