The Cardiac Chronicles

The first 6 weeks re-learning how to fly.

In the George Nelson firehouse on the Utah State University campus, there is a 200-meter indoor track. The 4-lanes of gray rubber smell a lot like lactic acid. In my ear, a chorus of heavy breathing plays, accompanied by the rhythmic ping of basketballs dribbling across the courts housed inside the track and the low thud of deadlifts hitting the floor in the loft above.

There, in the confines of that 200-meter loop, I am rediscovering freedom.

The founding fathers signed their names on a “Declaration of Independence” from the tyranny of colonial rule in black ink and sealed it with their blood. I am signing my name on a declaration of independence from the heart attack in Mizuno Wave Rebellions and sealing it with 1k repeats at threshold pace.

Every year, when the weather cools, our little track club moves inside to do Wednesday morning workouts in the heated and well-lit field house. For the past few months, I’ve gone to track club, but just as a spectator, not a participant. I plodded along, jogging in the opposite direction. I cheered and timed laps and constantly checked my heart rate to make sure it never crept above 135. It was jolly good time, but it wasn’t a workout.

Then the news came, “you’re free”, Dr. J said, “to begin to add intensity back into your training and build up to where you were”. So, the next Wednesday I ran the same direction as everyone else, and I ran fast.

We started reasonably.

First it was 2x2k at “threshold” pace, with 3 minutes of jogging in between. It was rough. I didn’t hit the splits I’d contrived. My everything was rusty, and dusty.

Then it was 2x2k+1k and I hit just under the splits I’d wanted the past week with ease.

Then it was 3x2k and I was well under goal splits and making up new ones.

The next week I kept the volume but cut the rep size and the rest duration in half. 6x1k, with 90 seconds of jogging in between. Still at threshold effort but the times crept down. The paces started to feel more familiar, like slipping into an old pair of shoes.

Then 8x1k, the times go down, so does heart rate, and effort. On paper this looks like a real workout, something pre-heart attack Paul might do (but never actually did). This is strategic, by doing workouts I’ve never done before, it’s harder to get caught up in the comparison between pre and post heart attack fitness. That makes it easier to ease back into things and be grateful for what I get.

Then 10x1k, real volume.

Now the “threshold only” era is over. This Wednesday I did 4×800, real speed. It was rough, rusty and dusty. I can’t wait for next week.

Those first few weeks back, I wondered if I’d ever get close to the fitness I’d worked for prior to the heart attack. I worried I’d forgotten how to fly or, worse yet, my wings were broken. Now, as I look at the numbers coming in from the workouts each week, I am hopeful and with every lap around that 200-meter oval, I stick another feather back onto the broken wings and remember, I already know how to fly.