6. Odyssey [od-uh-see] - 2. a long series of wanderings or adventures, especially when filled with notable experiences, hardships, etc.

In this world, I find that there are some people that when you chat with them one to one, sparks fly, great ideas are thought of and forgotten, and your brain comes away enriched and well exercised. I was sitting in the pub with this friend (Jon), and enjoying a few beers and some energetic conversation.

As a lover of exercise, when Jon dropped his idea into the conversation, I was enthralled. The idea was to carry out a coast to coast run, along the length of Hadrian's wall over three or four days. The pace was going to be steady, the distance made easier by a banal conversation, and the prospect of completing the Odyssey á la Jon and Pete. In theory, despite the distance, it seemed like a great way to get away, and clear the cobwebs that were causing me increasing difficulty. The idea was lodged, loved, and left...we both knew it would develop over the passage of time.

By rights, the idea should've been unpalatable just by the fact that it is a really long way to run. I've never shirked a challenge though, so I just ignored that small fact and moved on. I tried to think about the logistics - how would we get there? Where would we park? Where would we stay? How fast would we run? How many beers could we realistically drink and still carry on? All the important stuff. The more I tried to think, the hazier it got. I tried to write things down, and became more reliant on the idea as a way of getting over whatever it was I was suffering...as a way of halting my decline. I spoke to Jon on a few occasions by text, and in person, and the idea was becoming more real, but the task in my brain appeared further and further in the distance, as my ability to focus on any concept suffered blow after blow.

My frustration and anger had reached new levels. I asked myself, "I can't even plan a simple fucking jog in England...what will I lose next?!" I had no answers, and for the first time in my adult life, I felt pathetic, and bereft of confidence. I was Pete - capable, forthright, well spoken, eloquent. What had happened to me? As hard as I had tried to find the answers...tried to make things right...things had only gotten worse. I picked up my phone and dialled Jon. Jon answered in his typical bright and breezy manner. My mood, in contrast, was sombre. "Jon", I said, "I can't do the Odyssey". I took a deep breath, and chewed the words over in my head before uttering them. "I think I'm having a nervous breakdown". I let out a small laugh, but not out of humour, but nervousness.

I put the phone down, and settled on the fact that I had probably found my answer, in spite of my brain disputing the fact. I had never struggled to cope with the events in my life...why now? I harked back to my A level studies in psychology. Stress, I recalled, was thought to be the human brain's inappropriate response to stimuli. What was my stimuli? What was I dealing with? It seemed like business as usual...so why had everything become so difficult? I had many questions, but only one answer...and I didn't like that at all. I had tutted and huffed about people around me who had complained of stress...surely I hadn't become one of them. What was next? I couldn't stomach the idea of going to a Doctor - I didn't want the S-word peppering my medical notes, to be hung around my neck for the rest of my life. I had to take action. I set about streamlining my life, to give myself the minimum responsibility possible. Then they struck.