Or at least start: procedure outcomes, permission to run, and the start of plans
After 9 months, 2 heart surgeries, countless tests, and lots of restriction, I have the greenlight to start returning to the kind of running I was doing before the heart attack. This feels like it might be the start of a comeback story. You’d think, after 9 months of dreaming and deliberation I’d have a solid plan of where I want to go, I don’t. Here’s what I’ve got so far:
Step 1. Start by Almost “Dapping-up” the Doctor.
Have you ever found yourself, arm outstretched, palm open, facing another human, arm also outstretched, your hands hand rapidly approaching each other. In this moment, you must make a decision, possibly the most important spilt-second decision of your life: handshake, or hi-five?
I found myself in this situation on December 23. Dr. Engels, the electrophysiologist, came in to give me my last briefing before going into surgery. He finished, stretched out his hand, and I stretched out mine. I’d shaken several hand that day but this seemed different. I panicked and I shook.
Instantly, by the awkward shape of Dr. Engel’s hand and the slight droop at the corners of his mouth I could tell I was wrong. I gave him a handshake but this gametime, he wanted something else:
While I will always regret the missed opportunity to “dap-up” Dr. Engels, after that, I was a lot less worried about the procedure. Emily, who works at a doctor’s office, says that some doctors really thrive in patient, interaction, for others, surgery is their zone. In that moment, I knew where Dr. Engels “zone” was.
As you would expect from such a doctor, the rest of the day went smoothly. I was under anesthesia and fully out within a half hour. The next thing I remember is the nurse telling me I had an hour and a half until I was off bedrest. Everything had gone well. No inducible v-tac, the loop recorder was in place, and my incisions were looking great. I’d even been so loopy I’d missed the first half of my recovery.
We left the hospital at the end of the 4-hour recovery window after I passed the “walk to the bathroom and pee” test. We spent the night at an Air-BnB with my parents where we watched “Bill and Ted’s Excellent Adventure”. I guess I couldn’t die during the procedure because I’d never seen that movie, now I might be ok to go.
Step 2. Get a phone call that makes you want to “dap-up” your cardiologist.
A week later, after not lifting anything heavier than a gallon of milk. I went back to salt lake for a wound check and to finish setting up the loop recorder. Everything looked good. I’d been waiting the whole week to hear from Dr. J to know what the results of the study meant for my running.
On the way home, we stopped at the Nike outlet in Farmington. The results of the study were good so I was looking for “comeback shoes” but we still didn’t know what that comeback would look like. Emily stayed in the car while I ran into the store. I found a pair of shoes for me, and one for Emily but I needed to make sure she wanted them. I found myself wandering around the Nike outlet texting Emily when my phone rang. The caller ID: Farmington Cardiology (a.k.a. Dr Jacobsen). I lost my cool. I didn’t want to miss this call, but I was not in a great place to talk. I had shoes I didn’t want to lose but I hadn’t paid for them so I couldn’t leave. Also, Emily wasn’t hearing any of this.
In a flash of inspiration, I stuffed the shoes behind a mannequin and told Dr Jacobsen to: “tell me the whole thing all over again, just in case”. By the time he got into the important stuff again, I was back in the car with Emily.
The gist: I’m free. The long version: I’m not the same but, with caution, I can get back to doing most of what I could pre-heart attack. It is a cautious return: because I have a different heart now, because the risk is non-zero, and because I haven’t been doing this for a while. I need to ease back into it. For easy runs, I’m free to run alone, and build to as long as I’d like. If I’m working out I should do it with other people around, at least for this first bit. I should always train with a heart rate monitor and doctors will be monitoring my loop recorder for anything strange.
After that call, I wanted to give Dr. J a high-five and a bro-hug.
Step 3. I don’t know…
That’s where we stand. Going forward, I put together a plan (approved by Emily) to start building mileage and workout intensity over the next 12 weeks. I ordered a polar heart rate monitor (which hasn’t shown up yet…), and a couple other pieces of new gear to support my training a little better than before.
I’ve put in two and a half weeks of relatively normal running. Some things, like longer easy runs are coming back quickly others, like workouts will take more time. I am both optimistic and trepidations about a return to “competition” and racing, especially at a similar level.
My heart is different and, I hope, so am I. In the past 9 months I’ve learned much about myself and those around me. While some of my running may look the same, I will never be the same runner. Honestly, I like this one better. I don’t know if I could put a finger on how but I think he’s got lots more to prove but so much less to loose and hopefully even more to give.
In a small way we are stepping into a new frontier. I’ve never been a 25-year-old-somewhat-locally-competitive-amateur-runner-with-regular-runner-dreams-coming-back-from-a-not-so-regular-runner-heart-attack before and I don’t know of anyone else who has.
In-spite, or perhaps because, of the irregularity of this situation I think people can find themselves in some part of it. Because of that and so its not just “my story”, I’m going to try documenting this journey in video form (in addition to writing). Who knows, if I can figure it out this might make an intriguing YouTube channel; stayed tuned.
Here goes nothing…
Come along for “the comeback”?
Just a nice sunset.
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