My Mental Health 13 - Motivation Is Key, A True Story

It’s been a while since I wrote, and let me explain why. In my last post I wrote about self-help and how we must try to do things for ourselves to help our state of mind, a distraction or a diversion away from our mental health. Now we will normally have family and friends to help us, but we must do things for ourselves; we need to push ourselves, and in my case, it is normally cycling. I did say others can help us, but only I can get on my bike!

And since the 1st of September I have ridden 115 miles, and 58 of those were completed on one ride, and that total is not a lot. Let’s take August, when I cycled nearly 350 miles in the month – some difference, and with a week to go I won’t get anywhere near that total this month; my incentive is just not there, and I am, maybe I was, struggling.

Quite sad really!

With mental health, possibly, and maybe obviously, one of the most important words that goes with the condition when you need to do anything is 'motivation.' And recently I have not had any, and whilst this has happened before for a day or two here and there, it has rarely happened for so long, but is there a link?

My wife and I have decided to move house, town, county and country. One last adventure, whilst we are young enough and something I will come onto later. Is that why I have lost my motivation, that ‘get up and go’ that we all need when we want to do something? I don’t know, and I struggle with it all. Because I am looking forward to the move and the adventure, I can’t help but feel I should be jumping out of bed, doing a couple of cartwheels and embracing the day with a huge hug and a smile – but I’m not! That get-up-and-go has got up and gone!

Let’s go back to the 6th September, the annual ‘Tour O’ the Borders’ and annual roads closed cycling event starting and finishing in Peebles via Tweedsmuir, Moffat and St Mary’s Loch, a beautiful cycle that I have done since 2023. In 2025 I did the event in September at just over 81 miles from when I started out until I finished at my accommodation. I also did the ‘Etape Loch Ness’ in the April, starting and finishing in Inverness, south on the west coast of the loch to Fort Augustus, and back up the east coast, with its five-mile ascent, and I covered 75 miles from motorhome park to motorhome park.

Some of the scenes from the Borders, and competing in a shorter event with my sister's friend back in 2024.

The five-mile ascent from Fort Agustus was tough, and I mean tough, but I did it. I never got off my bike, and it’s great when you get to the summit with the piper playing to let you know you have made it. I passed many a younger person walking and pushing their bike, and that made a then 62-year-old feel pretty good!

So, what about the 6th, the annual event I was looking forward to but which no sooner had I started than I wanted to turn round and go home? We stopped about 1.5 miles out of town at the Glentress Cycling Centre and Campsite, and no sooner had I set off for the start than I didn’t want to go, and that was all about mood and motivation.

The advantage of this cycle is that once started, you can opt for a shorter route if you like, and I think I had talked myself into that on the Friday, never mind on the cycle to the official start. You have to pay an entry fee for these events, as there is a lot to be paid for, and it's about £90, so it's a good incentive to get up and go. My brother and sister-in-law had also come up from Evesham with us, and they were coming into town to meet me at the finish. I couldn’t go home with my tail between my legs, saying I CBA?

What made it worse was the wind, many cyclists' least favourite weather to encounter, and as I cycled south out of town, the wind was hitting us straight on, and it was a strong wind. Many younger, fitter cyclists went past me as if I was standing still, but for me it was horrible, and I didn’t want to be doing it, and the fast overtaking cyclists were demoralising.

I tried. I put my head down and got the legs going, and no sooner had I attempted my new little drive than I gave up and just pedalled to go as fast as I could so I didn’t embarrass myself, but it was no fun!

At one stage the wind actually moved me sideways, not by much, as there wasn’t a hurricane blowing, but I felt the bike shift. Another cyclist came alongside me and commented how bad it was, not the best motivational help, but he was right.

The long 120 km course takes you to Moffat, but as you can see from the map (courtesy tourotheborderes.com) at Tweedsmuir, you can turn off and do the 88 km Challenge Route with its 940 m of ascent, and also featuring the Wall of Talla climb.

The long and the short of it

The worst part was taking the shorter route, and on the way home, being overtaken by cyclists who were doing the longer route!

So, imagine the mood I was in, not wanting to be there, cycling in my least favourite conditions. There I was having quite a nice cycle along the Talla Dam, only to see some little yellow dots on a hill in the distance, a hill I did not want to tackle; I was beat before my first metre of ascent.

I went as far as I could and got off to walk, and normally I would push and push until I could go no further, but on this occasion the first piece of resistance to the pedals made me get off; I simply couldn’t be bothered. The only consoling factor was that once more, as at Loch Ness, there were many younger people also off their bikes and walking, and I can assure you not many cyclists went past on their bikes, but I will credit the few who did.

Beautiful Talla Resevoir and look at that hill with the little yellow cycling jackets, my time, including too and from the campsite, and the wonderful finishing line!

No piper to let you know you had made it, which initially I thought I had, only to find a dip with another ascent, nowhere near as big or long, and on this occasion, I managed to stay on and get to the very top. Of course, what goes up and all that…corner,

The road down was narrow and wet, with warning signs stating the dangers of a steep descent. I did manage to overtake a couple of other participants without being a total idiot, but I was also getting a little speed up. On the approach to one corner I decided I was going a little too fast, so I started to brake, the rear wheel locked, and going that bit too fast, the bike went straight on whilst the road went right. I hit the grass verge and went flying over the bike and fortunately onto a grassy mound, with no trees, rocks or stones, but grassy or not, it was a bang, and it hurt.

Fortunately, I was fine, and thank you to the kind gentleman who stopped to make sure I was okay, making me take my time before getting back on the bike. If by chance you are the man who helped the cyclist on the Wall of Talla descent this year – thank you.

It just added to my day and my mood, and I couldn’t wait to get home. I knew I would; it was a case of when, not if! My time was a horrible 5 hours and 18 minutes, meaning a paltry average speed of 10.6 mph, when it is usually between 12 & 13 mph; that is some difference for sure!

But I got there, as you can see, and I pretty much hated every minute, and so you are aware. I rarely use the word ‘hate,’ as I think it is too strong to describe anything, but I am using it to describe my cycle; it was that bad a day, and I only smiled for the cameras. And it was that bad a day. I didn’t even enjoy the 1.5-mile cycle back to the motorhome to get showered and changed, ready for a bite and a beer. It also didn’t help to find my timing didn’t suit the local bus timetable, and none of the 4 taxi services in town had any vehicles available, so there I was walking back into town, after a horrible cycle, feeling like everything was against me.

I didn’t cycle again until the 18th, back home with a couple of my friends, and to be honest, that wasn’t much better, except there was no wind, but there was good company, which always helps, but there was still no motivation going about, and it has only started to come back to me the last few days. I went out again on Wednesday with two more friends, and it was a good cycle, and I enjoyed it again, and things are getting better, but here is the link.

My wife and I thought we were in our forever home when we moved here nearly 8 years ago, yet we have decided to move to Wales. We want a new adventure, to try something different in a smaller town, 10 minutes from the coast and 10 minutes from the mountains. But it all happened so quickly. We put our house on the market, expecting it to take 3-4 weeks to sell; we had our first offer within 15 minutes of the estate agent office opening the morning after the advert went live.

No viewing, just a phone offer which was rejected. It went live on Wednesday 9th at 17.30, and within 7 hours of the office opening at 9.00 on the Thursday we had another 3 offers of the asking price, again with no viewings, and this was all when we were in Scotland. They all viewed on the Friday afternoon, and we got the asking price plus a little more for a couple of fixtures, and we were gob smacked. This wasn’t supposed to be happening like this. My friend said I was being optimistic, expecting to sell within 3-4 weeks, and we’d sold in 2 days!

But at my age I think it got to me, and it meant my mind was elsewhere, certainly not on cycling, and with it all, the mental health side of me suffered too. But it has settled down now. We have come to terms with the situation; everything is in place, paperwork has been signed, and it is that horrible waiting game. Solicitors and estate agents are saying 12 weeks, which of course takes us to Xmas, and it is very frustrating considering there are only 3 houses involved and 4 parties!.

It is the only reason I can think of that has made me change my mood and lose my motivation at a time when I most needed it. I was even struggling to swing my legs out of bed to get up; again, not a good feeling, but it was there.

If we are working, we have motivation to get up for work; it has to be done. We are earning money, and we don’t want to get into trouble or maybe even lose our job. We may not enjoy the work too much, but we have good reason to get up and go. It’s not quite the same when you are retired; I have no reason to get up in the morning. I am fortunate; I have my pension. I don’t need to earn money or annoy a boss (well, maybe, there is my wife;) there is no actual reason other than getting on with life!

Many will say that is a good reason, but life can sometimes mean lying in bed, watching TV, messaging friends, and playing games on my phone. Many working people will do similar at the weekend. I can do it every day, and so I don’t believe being retired actually helps in a situation like this!

I know what I have to do, and it is happening. I am getting back on track, but the first 3 weeks of September have not been much fun; in fact, they have been the strangest three weeks I have had for a long time, and I simply don’t want it to happen again, so I will try to make sure it doesn’t.

Stay motivated to feel good, and if I am stating the obvious, I apologise, but again this is just my story, and I’m getting it out there to try to help people understand.

Thanks for reading.

DJ