Last weekend started off like a lot of weekends for me: an early alarm, a quick bite and cup of coffee, then a drive to a nearby trail race. In this case, I'd be running the Sour Grapes Trail Half-marathon for the third year in a row. The race was part of the 2014 UMTR Trail Race Grand Prix Series, a competition that I did well in last year but for which I had a lot of catching up to do this year.
I arrived in plenty of time, found a decent parking spot, picked up my number, and went about a typical warm up: a bit of walking, a mile or so of easy running, a few basic stretches, and heading for the start. Nothing out of the ordinary, in fact I was feeling pretty good.
The organizers got us lined up and sent us off. As usual, the faster-younger-more talented types rocketed off the line, leaving me and the rest of the pack to follow. I was probably sitting in about 15th place, more or less, about where I'd expect to be. With 13.1 miles to go, no need to push the pace early.
We rounded a couple of corners, and hit the first tiny little hill. We weren't even half a mile into the race at this point, but "something" happened to me right there. I felt a kind of flutter in my heart, and started breathing a bit heavier than I'd expect to be. Hmm. No pain. So I slowed down, thinking maybe I'd overdone the caffeine that morning, just needed to get my breathing under control and I'd be fine.
About a mile later I felt some tightness across my chest muscles. What the hell? Could I be having a heart attack? No way, I'm still running, only a few people have passed me, this is just a bad day. Maybe I was tense on the steering wheel during the drive, so I shook out my arms, slowed a bit more, tried to control my breathing.
Boy, did it feel like a bad day. For the next 3 or 4 miles I was forced to slow down to about 8:25 pace, well off what I thought I'd be able to do. But I was able to keep running, so I ignored my sensations and plugged on.
In fact, I plugged on all the way to the finish, which was a disappointing 20th place in about 1:47:00. Results. Compare that to last year's second place in 1:32, and you can see it was a bad day.
It was about to get so much worse.
I really felt crappy after the race. Super-tired, nauseated. and a bit woozy. Maybe I was bonking? I grabbed a banana, had some electrolyte replacement drink, toweled off, changed into dry clothes, and hit the road home. Still felt awful.
About 20 minutes into the drive, I finally admitted to myself that something was really not right. Stubborn fool. I pulled off the road, called my wife. She said, "Get to a hospital". She was right. I asked Siri to find me the nearest one, she obliged and I pulled into the parking lot of St. Gabriel's Hospital in Little Falls, MN.
I strolled in, sweating profusely and feeling light-headed. I told the receptionist that I might be having a hard attack. Within a couple of minutes I was on a bed and chewing children's aspirin, as the staff ran preliminary tests. It wasn't long before the doctor told me that I was indeed having a heart attack.
Okay, let me just pause here for one second. I was having a heart attack, one which had started almost 2 hours before, in fact I just ran something like 12.5 miles on trails WHILE HAVING A HEART ATTACK. Clearly, my capacity for denial is pathological, and my pig-headedness about finishing races had now put my life in danger.
I was so scared, it's hard to describe. Alone, and informed that I'd now have a wild ride in an ambulance for about 30 miles to get to St. Cloud Hospital, where they had specialists in cardiac catheterization waiting to help me ... I put my life in the hands of the professionals. I guess the fact that I'm writing this proves that it was the right thing to do.
The next few hours were a surreal and painful and frightening blur. I recall moments, like banging through the hospital corridors on a gurney, having my pants pulled off fast, receiving anesthesia, feeling almost out of my body, being told that I'd had a significant heart attack, and that I'd had an angioplasty and a stent implanted in my right coronary artery.
Then, I was in a recovery room. My typical, beloved type of trail race weekend had begun so normally, and now here I was.
My heart, shocked by this whole thing, couldn't seem to find a rhythm. After a couple of hours of my EKG bouncing all around, they sent me back to the Cath Lab so that they could insert a temporary pace maker for the night. I spent the wee hours in and out of a restless sleep, my heart pounding out a faster-than-normal and heavy-feeling beat, while intense thunderstorms pounded outside of my window. Like something out of a bad movie.
Eventually, I began to bounce back a little. On Sunday morning they turned off the pace maker, and my heart hung in there (mostly, still some funny beats now and then, they told me that was to be expected). I finally got a bite to eat. They came to my room Sunday evening to remove the catheters from my femoral artery (painful, very painful). By Monday morning I was able to take a few tentative steps out of bed, and by Monday evening I was able to be moved to a step down unit called Telemetry, which I always thought had something to do with launching satellites into orbit but apparently is basically a way to monitor things from a distance.
By Tuesday afternoon I could head home. Still scared, and now with a body filled with new and probably-long term chemicals (medicines) to help keep me alive: blood thinners, beta blockers, ACE inhibitors, and statins.
I had almost zero of the risk factors, and had just had my annual physical about 5 weeks ago - passing with flying colors. I do have a father who's had bypass surgery, but he smoked for years, didn't really exercise, and loved his eggs and bacon. Still, those darn genetics are just enough to get you. A heart attack? Me? Never!
Well, wrong!
I've now got a long road ahead, to work on recovery. The cardiologists said that my overall heath and fitness will not only help me make a "complete recovery" (well I hope so), but that in fact without it I would have suffered this episode earlier in my life and might not have survived it. So there's that.
I start cardiac rehab next, and if all goes well I'll be back running in several weeks. Not sure about any of this right now, of course, because I'm still wobbling around in a mixed up emotional and physical fog caused by fear, dread, anger, indignation, embarrassment, and drug-induced side effects. I know I've got to give it some time and work through everything. Of course I wish it had never happened in the first place.
I want to thank my loving wife for being strong and taking care of so many things through this crisis. And for someone who hates driving on the highways, she managed to come see me every day even through blinding rain storms and terrible traffic. Of course I'm also very grateful to the nurses, doctors, and everyone else at St. Gabriel's and the St. Cloud Hospital. The latter really was a top-notch experience.
As the weeks unfold now, I'll try to be more diligent about sharing here what I experience and what happens to me on this next leg of my life journey. I've got to get back up off the ground, dust myself off, and move forward again. I'm a pretty determined fellow, so I am confident that this hurdle can be overcome. But I'm damn glad to have help along the way, and I'm lucky to be alive.
Take care of yourselves, our time is so short and so precious.
Hope to see you out on the trails in a few weeks time, fate willing.
Showing posts with label half-marathon. Show all posts
Showing posts with label half-marathon. Show all posts
Friday, June 20, 2014
Monday, June 10, 2013
Race Report: Sour Grapes Trail Half-marathon
I was back in the Brainerd, MN area over this past weekend to take part in the Sour Grapes Half-marathon Trail Race.
I ran this race last year, and enjoyed it despite the hot and humid conditions.
It was the first race in 2013 I'd be doing that I'd also completed in 2012, so a chance to measure the actual change in my fitness year-over-year. The results were about what I expected.
The weather conditions this year were much, much nicer: partly cloudy, temperatures rising from the high 50s to the mid-60s F, with a slight breeze. Because this spring - and I use that term loosely - has been wet, the sandy parts of the trail offered more weeds and more traction, so the course was in better shape. I ran similarly to last year, and had a couple of deja vu experiences, such as passing the exact same guy that I passed last year about about mile 4 - I swear.
There were some magical moments too. I remember running alone along a moist double-track trail in the deep woods, with streams of sunlight coming from above, punctuated by fluffy tufts of cottonwood trees floating down slowly - if I didn't look closely, I would have imagined it was snowing (AGAIN!).
I ran alone for a large portion of the race, from about 5.5 miles until almost mile 11 (except for passing several walkers from the concurrent 10.55k event). I finally caught and passed the lead female at that point. She was running strong, but one of her ankles was strapped into a rather heavy looking brace. She ran a strong race, I think she just ran out of steam. I know the feeling!
I was pleased that my Garmin 110 showed that my last mile was my fastest, with a pace in the 6:40s (not bad for a trail race). In the final results, I ended up finishing 2nd overall, and first in the 50-59 age group.
Last year: in heat and humidity I finished 3rd and ran 1:32:26.
This year: better conditions, I finished 2nd and ran 1:32:19.
Pretty close on first inspection, but honestly if the weather had been as good in 2012 as 2013, I would have run at least a minute faster. Still, that puts me only about 5-10 seconds per mile slower than last year, so maybe I'm not in such poor shape after all. Time will tell.
This was race number six in the UMTR Grand Prix, and I think I'm sitting in first place overall at this point. We'll see for certain when the series points standings are updated (hopefully soon).
One final note: I decided to build a bridge from this blog over to Twitter this week, so look for a short twitter fall to the right and feel free to follow if you are so inclined. Many times there are little tidbits of running information and wisdom that I'd like to share, but don't have the time to compose a blog entry. Let's see if a few tweets can help that. Onward and upward.
Found some photos posted on Facebook:
I ran this race last year, and enjoyed it despite the hot and humid conditions.
It was the first race in 2013 I'd be doing that I'd also completed in 2012, so a chance to measure the actual change in my fitness year-over-year. The results were about what I expected.
The weather conditions this year were much, much nicer: partly cloudy, temperatures rising from the high 50s to the mid-60s F, with a slight breeze. Because this spring - and I use that term loosely - has been wet, the sandy parts of the trail offered more weeds and more traction, so the course was in better shape. I ran similarly to last year, and had a couple of deja vu experiences, such as passing the exact same guy that I passed last year about about mile 4 - I swear.
There were some magical moments too. I remember running alone along a moist double-track trail in the deep woods, with streams of sunlight coming from above, punctuated by fluffy tufts of cottonwood trees floating down slowly - if I didn't look closely, I would have imagined it was snowing (AGAIN!).
I ran alone for a large portion of the race, from about 5.5 miles until almost mile 11 (except for passing several walkers from the concurrent 10.55k event). I finally caught and passed the lead female at that point. She was running strong, but one of her ankles was strapped into a rather heavy looking brace. She ran a strong race, I think she just ran out of steam. I know the feeling!
I was pleased that my Garmin 110 showed that my last mile was my fastest, with a pace in the 6:40s (not bad for a trail race). In the final results, I ended up finishing 2nd overall, and first in the 50-59 age group.
Last year: in heat and humidity I finished 3rd and ran 1:32:26.
This year: better conditions, I finished 2nd and ran 1:32:19.
Pretty close on first inspection, but honestly if the weather had been as good in 2012 as 2013, I would have run at least a minute faster. Still, that puts me only about 5-10 seconds per mile slower than last year, so maybe I'm not in such poor shape after all. Time will tell.
This was race number six in the UMTR Grand Prix, and I think I'm sitting in first place overall at this point. We'll see for certain when the series points standings are updated (hopefully soon).
One final note: I decided to build a bridge from this blog over to Twitter this week, so look for a short twitter fall to the right and feel free to follow if you are so inclined. Many times there are little tidbits of running information and wisdom that I'd like to share, but don't have the time to compose a blog entry. Let's see if a few tweets can help that. Onward and upward.
Found some photos posted on Facebook:
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| End of first lap, staying relaxed |
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| End of lap two, bringing it home |
Tuesday, June 12, 2012
The (Sour) Grapes of Wrath
Race Report: Sour Grapes Half Marathon trail race
I took the long-ish drive up to Brainerd, MN this past Saturday morning (2+ hours) to run the 5th race in the UMTR Trail Series in the Northland Arboretum. Theme of the day was the heat: relentless sun, and temperatures headed toward the 90s, with a dash of humidity just for kicks. Probably not great weather to race 13.1 miles, but at least we'd be in the woods for most of the race, where we'd have slightly cooler temps and shade (thank goodness).
A few notes about the race itself: the course was a non-technical XC ski trail loop that we ran twice, after sharing the start with the "half-half" runners; that is, competitors doing only one loop (about 10.5 kilometers). Editorial aside: I don't like races that mix multiple distances together for any major portion and especially not at the start, it makes things confusing for everyone and you just don't know who you are actually racing - but maybe I'm in the minority on that front. The course had no single track at all (darn), rolling hills, a bit of sand at times, was fairly wide, had no roots/rocks/mud to speak of - although there were two very short sections that were soft underfoot, so I suppose if this race took place on a rainy day there could be some swampy bits. The course was very well-marked, and they cleverly placed an aid station right at a complex intersection that was used at least a couple of times each lap - very smart move. Thankfully in the hot conditions I was able to grab plenty of water during the race without carrying any myself. Race organizers and volunteers were all friendly folks, and there were quite a few spectators for a trail race. It was chip-timed, a bit slow to get to the awards ceremonies (but I know that can be a bit tricky when racers are covering 13+ miles at paces ranging from 6 minutes to over 11 minutes per mile). All in all, a nice venue and a race worth running, but don't get your hopes up for a difficult course requiring real trail-running technique, this is just another speedster's course (although the sandy sections would slow down even the fleetest of foot).
At the start, I let those speedsters fly off while I tried to settle into something in the "comfortably hard" effort range. I knew it was going to be a long day when the first couple of miles went by well over 7:00 minute per mile pace, but I was already huffing and puffing like the big bad wolf. It was probably the heat + humidity, and those two demons were simply variables to be dealt with on the day. I suspected those faster starters up ahead of me would be falling off their aggressive pace before too long, just because of conditions. I counted about 10 runners in front of me at about the half-mile mark, but then got passed by 2 more in the next half mile. No way to know if they were in my race or not, and way too early to fight it, so I let them go and focused on my own pacing and effort level.
There are many disadvantages to growing older. For example: you get slower, recovery takes longer, you lose that spring in your step, your elbow skin sags, etc. But there are a few advantages: experience, self-awareness, guile. I tried to use those to their full advantage on this day.
I started passing other runners by mile 4 (already?). The first two *seemed* to be running the 10k, judged by the intensity of their breathing and their unwillingness to let me pass. Both of them spit and sputtered and wheezed and battled me for at least 2 minutes before finally relenting. I made no attempt to surge or "race" them head-to-head, I just kept plugging along at the effort level I believed I could sustain. By mile 5 I'd gotten 3 more, one of whom was WALKING, and asked me to reassure him that he'd not missed the 10.5k turnoff. I told him he still had more than a mile to go, and trundled on.
Passing the finish area at the end of loop one, I had no idea what place I was in for the half-marathon. I could see only one runner who seemed to have just finished, maybe, and looking up ahead across the field there was no one in sight. I tried to pick up the pace on the second loop, but it was just too hot to maintain anything much faster than I was already doing. By the end of the race, my watch would say that I ran the second loop about one minute faster than the first, so I did manage negative splits, although not by much.
The second loop was a rather lonely slog for awhile, until I started passing the slowest of the 10.5k runners/walkers who had still not finished their first loop. However, with about 2 miles to go, suddenly there was a runner in front of me who looked to be struggling on a hot, sunny uphill. As I tried to muster at least a little bit of a surge, he suddenly started walking - heat will do that to you. As I passed, he offered a word of encouragement and I told him to hang in there. I started to feel the effects of the heat, sand, and pace at around 11.5 miles, and from there on out I was just doing my best to maintain form. I crossed the finish line and someone told me I was third place, which surprised me a bit - I didn't think I had passed that many runners, but then again some of them may have been in the 10.5k and others may have been dropped out or been walking along with the 10.5k walkers and thus I didn't notice them? Guess I'll never know for sure.
I kept dousing myself with water, but it was pretty hard to cool off. I decided to walk my cool down instead of jogging it, my legs were tired and I was already so over-heated. Back at the race site, I grabbed a few snacks offered by a friendly horde of volunteers, and waited for the awards. I did finish 3rd (results), although I was way behind the guys in first and second place. I'm pretty happy with it. I think I made some good choices on the day, hanging back and doling out my effort wisely while others used themselves up early and bombed out. Every now and then we old guys manage to play our cards pretty well, I suppose.
Now I'll await the updated Grand Prix results to see how things come together. I'd been tied for first overall, but only third in my age group, through some vagaries of scoring (that escape me) and the fact that the series is still not quite half complete. We'll see how the rest of the year goes. Thanks to the organizers, volunteers, and everyone else at Sour Grapes. You put on a great race. I'll come back next year for sure if you promise cold rain!
I took the long-ish drive up to Brainerd, MN this past Saturday morning (2+ hours) to run the 5th race in the UMTR Trail Series in the Northland Arboretum. Theme of the day was the heat: relentless sun, and temperatures headed toward the 90s, with a dash of humidity just for kicks. Probably not great weather to race 13.1 miles, but at least we'd be in the woods for most of the race, where we'd have slightly cooler temps and shade (thank goodness).
A few notes about the race itself: the course was a non-technical XC ski trail loop that we ran twice, after sharing the start with the "half-half" runners; that is, competitors doing only one loop (about 10.5 kilometers). Editorial aside: I don't like races that mix multiple distances together for any major portion and especially not at the start, it makes things confusing for everyone and you just don't know who you are actually racing - but maybe I'm in the minority on that front. The course had no single track at all (darn), rolling hills, a bit of sand at times, was fairly wide, had no roots/rocks/mud to speak of - although there were two very short sections that were soft underfoot, so I suppose if this race took place on a rainy day there could be some swampy bits. The course was very well-marked, and they cleverly placed an aid station right at a complex intersection that was used at least a couple of times each lap - very smart move. Thankfully in the hot conditions I was able to grab plenty of water during the race without carrying any myself. Race organizers and volunteers were all friendly folks, and there were quite a few spectators for a trail race. It was chip-timed, a bit slow to get to the awards ceremonies (but I know that can be a bit tricky when racers are covering 13+ miles at paces ranging from 6 minutes to over 11 minutes per mile). All in all, a nice venue and a race worth running, but don't get your hopes up for a difficult course requiring real trail-running technique, this is just another speedster's course (although the sandy sections would slow down even the fleetest of foot).
At the start, I let those speedsters fly off while I tried to settle into something in the "comfortably hard" effort range. I knew it was going to be a long day when the first couple of miles went by well over 7:00 minute per mile pace, but I was already huffing and puffing like the big bad wolf. It was probably the heat + humidity, and those two demons were simply variables to be dealt with on the day. I suspected those faster starters up ahead of me would be falling off their aggressive pace before too long, just because of conditions. I counted about 10 runners in front of me at about the half-mile mark, but then got passed by 2 more in the next half mile. No way to know if they were in my race or not, and way too early to fight it, so I let them go and focused on my own pacing and effort level.
There are many disadvantages to growing older. For example: you get slower, recovery takes longer, you lose that spring in your step, your elbow skin sags, etc. But there are a few advantages: experience, self-awareness, guile. I tried to use those to their full advantage on this day.
I started passing other runners by mile 4 (already?). The first two *seemed* to be running the 10k, judged by the intensity of their breathing and their unwillingness to let me pass. Both of them spit and sputtered and wheezed and battled me for at least 2 minutes before finally relenting. I made no attempt to surge or "race" them head-to-head, I just kept plugging along at the effort level I believed I could sustain. By mile 5 I'd gotten 3 more, one of whom was WALKING, and asked me to reassure him that he'd not missed the 10.5k turnoff. I told him he still had more than a mile to go, and trundled on.
Passing the finish area at the end of loop one, I had no idea what place I was in for the half-marathon. I could see only one runner who seemed to have just finished, maybe, and looking up ahead across the field there was no one in sight. I tried to pick up the pace on the second loop, but it was just too hot to maintain anything much faster than I was already doing. By the end of the race, my watch would say that I ran the second loop about one minute faster than the first, so I did manage negative splits, although not by much.
The second loop was a rather lonely slog for awhile, until I started passing the slowest of the 10.5k runners/walkers who had still not finished their first loop. However, with about 2 miles to go, suddenly there was a runner in front of me who looked to be struggling on a hot, sunny uphill. As I tried to muster at least a little bit of a surge, he suddenly started walking - heat will do that to you. As I passed, he offered a word of encouragement and I told him to hang in there. I started to feel the effects of the heat, sand, and pace at around 11.5 miles, and from there on out I was just doing my best to maintain form. I crossed the finish line and someone told me I was third place, which surprised me a bit - I didn't think I had passed that many runners, but then again some of them may have been in the 10.5k and others may have been dropped out or been walking along with the 10.5k walkers and thus I didn't notice them? Guess I'll never know for sure.
I kept dousing myself with water, but it was pretty hard to cool off. I decided to walk my cool down instead of jogging it, my legs were tired and I was already so over-heated. Back at the race site, I grabbed a few snacks offered by a friendly horde of volunteers, and waited for the awards. I did finish 3rd (results), although I was way behind the guys in first and second place. I'm pretty happy with it. I think I made some good choices on the day, hanging back and doling out my effort wisely while others used themselves up early and bombed out. Every now and then we old guys manage to play our cards pretty well, I suppose.
Now I'll await the updated Grand Prix results to see how things come together. I'd been tied for first overall, but only third in my age group, through some vagaries of scoring (that escape me) and the fact that the series is still not quite half complete. We'll see how the rest of the year goes. Thanks to the organizers, volunteers, and everyone else at Sour Grapes. You put on a great race. I'll come back next year for sure if you promise cold rain!
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