Warning: Cliff Edge Ahead – we need to talk about mental health

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As I climb back onto my bike I realise I’ve just seriously considered stepping off a cliff edge to escape the turmoil that is going on inside me, that’s not good.

It's been a fortnight since I last rode my bike for pleasure. A fortnight of working long days and using 'busy' as a coping strategy to avoid thinking about why the 'holiday of a lifetime' bike trip to BC I've just been on didn't go quite to plan, and why the relationship that should be blossoming with an incredible new (mountain biking) woman in my life is definitely going sideways.

As I spin down the country roads and the fresh sea air fills my lungs the weight of the world is still loaded on my back where my evoc guiding pack normally sits. I hang a right at the beach and the motor on my e-bike kicks in pulling me up the tarmac climb at 20kph. Without the motor today I'd probably have just given up at this point and gone home, I can't really be arsed riding my bike, my legs feel dull and my heart heavy. After a few km's I pull off the lane, buzz across a gravel car park and zip down a rocky path edged with prickly gorse and delicate bell heather. I stop at the bottom of the path and lean my bike against the flaking white wall, as I straddle the wall I hardly notice the 'danger cliff edge' sign...

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