Eleven months ago I survived what cardiologists call “The Widowmaker” heart attack. A 100% blockage in one coronary artery, 98% in another. Apparently it kills 90 – 95% of the people that have it. I’m lucky to be alive. It was a shitty, amazing, painful, beautiful and life-changing event.
Somewhere very early in the aftermath, lying in the cardiac ICU in a morphine drip induced haze, I realized I had to get off my fat ass and make some changes, big changes, in my life.
So I started eating better, and I started exercising. Big heart attacks damage heart muscle. Kills heart muscle. So I need to build up the remaining muscle, open up those arteries and get that heart pumping. I need cardio. Ellipticals and treadmills are boring. Bad genetics and three knee surgeries make running difficult. So I elected to start walking.
Not just take a Sunday stroll in the park walking.
But not that “Power Walking” you see people doing with pumping hand weights and flailing arms. I do have some dignity.
I walk fast. About 4 miles per hour – 15 minute miles. It’s a pretty decent clip, I’ve passed “joggers” on occasion.
For me, it’s the perfect exercise. Low impact helps the knees (and hips. Sucks getting old). Best of all, just before my heart attack I moved to Seattle. I have an amazing city to explore. I live right in downtown Seattle and can walk forever and see cool new things.
So that’s what I did. I went from lugging my 235 pound gut up hills that kicked my ass in 300 feet to dropping 60 pounds and walking 15 miles in an afternoon.
Uphill. Both ways. 😉
Months ago, I don’t know exactly when, I decided that I wanted to enter, and complete, a marathon. Actually, I have always wanted to finish a marathon. It’s been on the Bucket List in My Head for as long as I can remember. It’s hard to describe why anyone wants to run, walk or crawl for 26.2 miles under time limit conditions, but the desire is there.
A part of me wants to do it now just to raise a big giant middle finger to heart disease.
I refuse to let this disease bring me down. Finishing a marathon seems a nifty way to say, “Fuck you heart disease. You tried, you failed. I win, get the hell out of my life.”
So off to train for a marathon I went. Set my sights on the Seattle Rock & Roll Marathon on June 22. The time limit for walkers in that race is seven hours. Hit that time while still on the course and you get swept up in the trailing Van of Shame and shuttled to the finish line.
7 hours. That requires a pace of just over 16 minutes a mile. When I first started walking, I was doing 20 minute miles, and lucky to finish three miles.
This wasn’t going to be easy. But I walked on. Every day, no matter how sore I was, or how cold and wet it was outside. I walked.
It got easier. I got stronger.
Two weeks ago I did 10.5 miles at a 14:34 pace. I’ve done 18 miles at 14:54.
I’ve got this.
I publicly posted my goal, and training updates along the way. My amazing friends provided support, inspiration and motivation. Painful as it was sometimes, I trained hard. I track every step I take and I’ve taken over 3 million steps since my heart attack. I’ve walked over 1,400 miles. All in an effort to get to the point where I can walk 26.2 miles in less than seven hours on June 22.
I waggled my middle finger at heart disease with every mile that clicked by. It made me smile, even when it hurt.
Then there was this little bump
Three months ago there was this weird feeling in my foot. It felt like there was a little pebble — inside my foot. I pushed through it but it kept getting bigger and more annoying, so off to the doctor we go. It’s a Morton’s Neuroma, a benign growth in my right foot that makes walking painful. The doc whips out a needle the size of a pencil and gives me an injection into the neuroma, says to stay off it a month, and it will probably go away.
And it did. I eased back into training and the foot felt good.
Three weeks ago, the neuroma came back. The doc said it might. The next plan is to cut the damn thing out.
Here’s the problem with that:
Thanks to the aforementioned cardiac event, I am the proud owner of two titanium stents that prop up a couple of really important cardiac arteries. Seems these things are prone to clogging back up in the first year, so stent patents are put on anti-coagulants for a year while the stents “settle in”.
There isn’t a legit surgeon on the planet that will slice open my foot to remove a growth while I’m taking anti-coagulants. If I nick myself shaving it looks like someone slaughtered a hog in the bathroom, so bleeding out from foot surgery isn’t an option.
So I pushed on. I wasn’t about to let some stupid thing growing in my foot stop me from accomplishing this goal. I’d just deal with the pain and get through the marathon. By then I would probably be off the meds and could have the thing removed and I’d deal with the recovery and rehab then.
It’s called denial
This time the neuroma is bigger. And it’s growing. What felt like a little pebble in my foot before started feeling like a pea. Then a marble. Then I woke up today and it felt like a damn golf ball. Still refusing to believe this was happening, I put my shoes on this morning and headed out for an 18 mile walk.
Two steps into it I knew it was over. But I pushed on.
Two miles into it and I was in a cab, headed back to my apartment, fully cognizant that everything I’ve been working toward for the past 11 months was for nothing. I had failed.
And I was blaming heart disease. It was giving me the finger big time. If it weren’t for that damn medication I would just have the surgery now. I’m 14 weeks pre-race, I could take six weeks off to recover from the surgery, doing non-weight bearing strength and endurance training and still have time to finish training by June 22.
But thanks to that med, the timeline is whacked. There’s no way I can wait another month to get off the meds and have surgery. There just isn’t enough time.
I’ve finally accepted the fact that’s been staring me in the face the past two weeks.
My dream of finishing this marathon are over.
I’m devastated.
Deep in the throes of a pity party of epic proportions…
That is where I have spent the last several hours. I hate failing. I’ll freely admit that I don’t handle failure well. I actually contemplated stopping my anti-coagulent med early and having the foot surgery done. Then I remembered what the cardiac nurse told me about taking this med. She said:
Miss this once, you might be OK. Miss this twice and *I* will be pissed because I’m the one that will be consoling your wife and kids while they put a toe tag on you downstairs. Understand?
I loved that nurse. Yeah, go off the meds early. How’s this for a headline, “Man goes off heart meds early. Runs marathon. Dies.” That’s just stupid, it’s Darwin Award material. This goal is hardly worth dying for.
Yes, I wanted it. Bad. More than I’ve wanted anything in a long long time.
Boy howdy was I feeling sorry for myself.
Then, some wonderful things happened during my pity party. My wife, of course, pledged her undying support and understanding. I posted a picture on Facebook captioned, “Lots to contemplate…” and had friends from literally not just across the continent but across the world reach out privately and ask, “Everything OK?”
How cool is that?
You know what? Everything is OK. Better than OK. Life is terrific.
There will be other marathons. I’ll get this thing cut out when I can, I’ll train again, and I’ll try again. If it grows back, I’ll have it cut out again, and I’ll try again. I’ll have it cut out until there’s no foot left to cut from. If this stupid thing in my foot ultimately wins, well, then I’ll find another challenge to conquer.
A pity party? Seriously? With all I have to be thankful for? On April 21, 2012 I got a second chance at life. I don’t have time for a pity party, there is too much to do, too much to enjoy. Too many people to talk to, too many friends to spend time with.
So go ahead heart disease, stick out that middle finger at me. Wave it in my face.
Next time I’m breaking it off and shoving it where the sun don’t shine.
Life IS fantastic. But months tying to get where you wanna go only to have some dumb golf ball mess it up? Blows.
Yep, it blows. Hard. Thanks Heather!
Jay, that really stinks. But, I know you and I bet next year you will crush that marathon.
That’s the plan JB, and I’m sticking to it. Thanks.
So – maybe this is the sign you should come to Vegas and celebrate my 50th birthday with us…. your marathon was on my 50th – and I had thought it was a great goal for me too – but I could not get my foot healed in time to even begin training – since just this week is the first I can walk without a limp and pain – Jay – there is a reason – you may never know the reason – but there is a reason June 22 is not your day to complete that goal…. you will do it – just not that day – it is not a failure – something else big will happen because of you that day – and your goal of the marathon will be another day in time 🙂 considered yourself hugged – loved and you know what – you have a world behind you!
I <3 you Thesa.
Hmmmm, Vegas......
Just occurred to me, Jay, that your real marathon is all you are doing to kick heart disease in the ass. And spreading the word while you are at it. Having Francie as a coach and supporter isn’t so bad, either!
Thanks Roberta! You’re right, she’s the best!
Hi Jay, I wish I could write like you do. You write from the heart and it shows.I have been going thru medical issues too. It’s been a difficult two years, but I am now finally beginning to accept this new journey and am now starting to feel like its a blessing in disguise to be this ill. It’s made me stop and think hard about what’s really important and that is more than I’ve done my entire life. So, thank you for sharing and expressing what I feel but don’t know how to say. Thank you! Cindy Cohen
I think you just said it Cynthia… It *can* be a blessing in disguise!
Congratulations on all you have already achieved, Jay. I am sure it will be even more meaningful for you to complete your marathon next year, with your profound awareness of how blessed you are to have a “next” year. The wait and the setbacks only make the victory sweeter.
Thanks Shannon, appreciate your kind words!
OMG Jay, how dare you call yourself a failure?!! You did not fail. You, my friend, have done an amazing thing. I am still 80 lbs over weight, at least, and the most I walk is maybe a mile in an 40 minute period, but I don’t walk in the winter cause it’s cold (say that in a whiny voice.) As I was reading your blog I was thinking, dang, I could do that…I should do that…and then you dare to call yourself a failure? Did you tell that thing to grow on your foot? Of course not. Jay, my goodness…be proud of yourself. No, you can’t do the marathon ….but wow, you have accomplished an amazing thing. You walked two miles with that thing on your foot causing you pain the whole time?! I am humbled, and ashamed….that I have been too lazy to get off my fat butt and walk “just because it’s cold.” Be proud Jay – you are an inspiration!
Been there, done that . . Been following you Jay and I know your 26.2 is just around the corner. For some reason, it is just not now. Keep on keeping on brother.
Sorry, Jay. That really sucks. You hit a bump in the road due to a bump on your foot. But, think of it as a timing thing. There will be other marathons waiting for you.
A minor setback. Something tells me you will do the marathon someday. The Seattle Marathon is the Sunday after Thanksgiving. It’s cold but fun. Why don’t you start with a half-marathon walk? I’ll do it with you! I would bet that there are many ppl in Seattle who would join you and I!
I wholeheartedly agree with Roberta Murphy. Keep up the good work and may God bless you with many more healthy years to complete ALL of your bucket list, in His time. 🙂
Maybe your marathon is slightly different then others. I think sometimes in life it’s not the race but the training that determines the win. Your win.. Still pounding on the keys! Thank you for not sitting in your room eating twinkies.
Sorry to hear that Jay, shoot for next year. Your success story will be doubly sweet!
Hey dude – you’ve not failed. You’ve simply discovered something which changed your time line.
Most people who have been through what you’ve been through are 6′ under. The top of your head is still 6′ over.
Enjoy it!
Ira
Hey dude – Sorry to hear about the golf ball in your foot. That really blows.
But I am thankful you are still with us and in a position to bitch about not getting a chance to do the marathon. THAT is a blessing indeed!! Hugs to you and Francy and Lauren! xo
Just. Keep. Going.
Oh, and I wonder if a comedian drives the Van of Shame for a few extra bucks.
Or maybe a psychologist.
Well here’s an idea, get in the pool until your foot heals and maybe make a goal for a triathlon next year.
Even in the face of sheer disappointment and adversity… you ROCK the positive *perfectly snarky* vision and press on… So proud to call you a friend. Way to lead by example, JT. +11 BOOM!
Jay, my sassy super-hero….failure would have been never lacing up and walking out the door on day one. Failure would have been not changing your lifestyle. Failure would have been not choosing to give heart disease the finger. Failure would have been not fighting. Oh, you’ve got the fight. You’ve got the worn out shoes. You’ve kicked 60lbs to the curb. You’ve got one hell of a middle finger. You’ve excelled, in every way my friend. Every. Single. Way. So let’s make a statement. I am committed to walking with you and Jillayne and anyone else who will join us…and together we can finish give heart disease the finger. Let’s. Do. This. With appreciation, admiration and love, Jennifer (and if you chose a sunny location, I’d be totally cool with that. Just sayin’).
Amazing people do amazing things Jay and you still have many more amazing things to accomplish in this life! Kathy and I have watched your transformation and encourage you to keep your marathon dream “front and center”. In fact, we would be honored to “run for the hearts” along with you when you are ready.
Jay, that sucks. Being told you can not achieve your goals because of something you have zero control over sucks.
That said, you’ll find another thing to put on your bucket list. The good news is you’re still here to have a bucket list. So you need to replace a line item with another. Whatever. You got this. You’ll figure it out.
Perspective, dear man. Perspective.
xoxox
Jay,
You will do the marathon next year. Next years time will be better by far than this years time would have been. You continue to inspire us all and we thank you for that.
Jay, I am so sorry ;((((((
I understand exactly how this feels. I know what I means to train for a race and have something come up and completely squash all your hopes. I went through a horrible period of time when I thought I would never be able to run again. I understand the despair of that loss.
Have you already paid and registered for the marathon? I have never run a full marathon before, only halfs. But if you want, there is enough time, I will train and run my first full marathon in your honor.
Literally. I will run your marathon under your name for you and give you my time (
Oops! Hit the wrong button, lol!
Jay,
I will give you my race time (time length for completion) as yours. I would feel honored to. I will “redeem” the race for you, wear your race number on my shirt, and finish the race in your name. As a gift to your future. And it wouldn’t need to be wasted. I believe in you.
I live in Seattle, too 😉 so that makes it easy.
Jay, congrats on all that you’ve accomplished since that wake up call. Get that foot taken care of and get back out there and do the marathon next year.
Simply wonderful – you are an inspiration Jay 🙂
Listen to the nurse Jay!
Wow. Love the way you turn failure around. Reading how you were so disappointed then kicked yourself in the butt and turned it around to another goal. You got this, Jay.
As you know, I can relate. To almost dying, to training hard, and to being knocked back down with health stuff. Thank you for your constant example of being thankful and climbing back up on the horse.
I miss you. I haven’t spent time with you in too long, but I feel like we just caught up a bit 🙂
Jay, I commented on your FB link, but wanted to on your actual post as well.
Don’t give heart disease that much power. It is just the cause of a delay. Not the END. You WILL WIN. You are already WINNING. The fact that you have made so many significant changes in your life and gotten healthy is the WINNING. You know who wins the most? Your family and US. Why? Because your hard work and determination should mean that we get to hear from you for a lot longer time than if you continued living like you had.
Don’t get me wrong, this SUCKS. But personally, I am glad you are here, and think the foot issue is another TEST. Another one that you will pass with flying colors. Listen to your nurse. She is right.
We’ll be watching for next year’s training milestones.
You only fail when you give up. From what I see you’ve only been temporarily detained from your goal. It will happen!
Geez… look at all you’ve accomplished this past year. I’m mean, living is a huge accomplishment compared to the alternative. I know what it’s like to train and train, only to have something, out of your control, completely railroad you. Sucks!! Set a new goal! Move forward. We all look forward to seeing what you’ll do next.
Thanks for sharing, Jay!
The inspiring part was when you set the goal & went after it – the end was only part of the story.
Have a great week!
Jay,
What a disappointment for you Jay, but you have accomplished great things these last few years ( and before) and will only continue to do so for years to come! Just keep moving forward!!!
Uphill. Both ways 🙂 Made me laugh as always.
This isn’t a failure, Jay. It’s just a temporary detour on the journey. Hell, you’ve cheated death, man! Looked into his face and said, “Sorry dude, go find someone else to mess with, I don’t have time for your crap”. Failure just isn’t in your vocabulary. You’ll get through this in no time, and I’m sure we’ll soon be reading a post about the guy who set a record for walking a marathon. Don’t worry, I’ve subscribed…I’ll see it when you post it! 😉
What a wonderful story. I’m sure you will make that marathon someday, and if, by some chance you don’t, you are the only one who will be disappointed in you.
When my daughter was young and decided to have a pity party, I would ask her to write down 25 things for which she was thankful. Her “blessings list.” I battled cancer in 2011 (and won!) and when I started to have my own pity party, my daughter handed me a piece of paper and asked me to write my own “blessings list.” Of course, she was at the top.
The world is so full of a number of things.
I’m sure we should all be as happy as kings.
Robert Louis Stevenson – A Child’s Garden of Verses
Hi Jay,
Love your writing as usual.
I have been having my own pity party since my son died in September. I am seeing that this is a long road….I still dip into the party favors from time to time…I am seeing progress though and that makes me happy. I am still getting my sea legs with it all…the firsts without my 22 year old son .
Thank you for your article. There is a lot of good to live for….I cling to that. Life without my son is so different. I suppose life without your health is a similar feeling. And I turn 50 today….you are correct, getting old sucks…it does beat the alternative though, right?
I have gained 30# since Phil’s death. You are right about dragging your butt to the gym. Thank you for the motivation. I am now going to drag my fat ass to the gym and get a workout in today before I eat birthday cake. Maybe they will cancel each other out at least!
Love you Jay.
-Michelle
Hi Jay
Read your story and it is quite amazing and i believe you will complete you marathon in record time. I have a suggestion that another friend of mine took and is doing excellent. Please read the web site i posted below my email (it belongs to a friend of mine). You can totally get rid of heart disease and the articles in this website (blog postings) will help you understand what to do and who to contact. Please read the articles http://hpjmh.com/2013/01/25/heart-disease-all-you-need-to-know-on-one-page/
and reach out to Caldwell Esselstyn, MD for specific advise and consultation. You see most all heart doctors are not trained in how to prevent and cure heart disease what the give you is drugs and operations (they get paid well for this) and they don’t understand that your body and fix itself if you FEED IT THE RIGHT STUFF. VERY IMPORTANT.
Dan Liese Westerly RI 401-742-3216
“Old” nurses give the best advice because they give a damn. I know because I am married to one who always tells me how it is. Her patients loved her advice and a few fell in love with her too. Thank God, I got there first.
I have always admired how well you speak of your wife. You’d rather be with her than anyone else. We share that about our wives. Still, I love to hear it when you speak publicly.
I have a similar Morton’s condition and now I know its name. It’s not as bad as yours, yet. But, I can watch it now that I have the diagnosis. Thanks for that…and your marvelous attitude…
Keep up the good work and the great altitude of your attitude.
Larry
I’m incredibly proud of you, Jay.
This sentence nearly stopped me:
“fully cognizant that everything I’ve been working toward for the past 11 months was for nothing”
I was fixin’ to leap through the interwebs and call bullshit on you, but thankfully you’ve called it on yourself. Time to take up swimming, Mr. Miracle?
You know Jay, I can’t help but think that a race is a minute thing in the great scheme of things. Understandably unfortunate that you cannot participate this year, but maybe it will give you more incentive for next year and more time to get ready! With all the good that has happened and the great wake up call you received…life is good:) You are still young and now in much better shape (according to you:). As the English say “keep calm and carry on” Maybe you were going to win this race and it was someone else’s turn!