When good results disappoint

"If you don't find something you can fix, I will be greatly disappointed," I stated matter-of-factly to my cardiologist. And I was serious. Dead serious. I was laying in my hospital bed waiting to be wheeled into the cath lab to get a clear picture of what was happening--or not happening--inside those skinny little coronary arteries. If he did not find something to stent, like he did five years ago, my symptoms would have no chance of being validated.

I will spare you all the details, but my running has really taken a dive over the last few months. The group of women I run with can be chatting it up having a great time, only to unintentionally pull away and leave me eating their dust. I try to keep up but it's like my engine is throttled back by a governor, heart rate zooming upwards to no avail. I simply can't go. I feel my chest tighten and throat close. I have to walk. I hate being the anchor. Lately, I make excuses to why I can not join them on those long Saturday runs to avoid holding them back and embarrassing myself.

So I run alone. That way, I can control the pace. But alas, I have no get up and go. That same tightness comes and goes, resolved by walking but with sub-zero energy. I makes me wonder if my genetically-produced coronary artery disease is misbehaving again. Surely, I don't want to keel over up in the mountains but my symptoms beg the question if I should even be there. Friends encourage me to call my cardiologist. Perhaps I should. But what if nothing is wrong? I am more terrified of that than an occluded vessel.

Then again, I've been under a lot of stress with a work situation. And, I am 67 and not at the pinnacle of fitness. Maybe this is all par for the course. I certainly do not want to be a hypochondriac worry-wart. Just suck it up, I tell myself. You're fine. Nothing is going to happen. It's all in your head.


That said, I did make that office visit last week and had my third cardiac cath this morning. I cannot begin to tell you how much I wanted there to be a blockage because that kind of problem can be addressed without much difficulty. But no, with the sedation being quite light, I was able to see the dye coursing through the arteries. The stent in the LAD was wide open and though there were a handful of areas with 20-30% blockages, those pose no real problems.

My problem, therefore, becomes how I deal with this good news that I perceive as bad news. Should I assume all my symptoms are figments of the imagination? Am I not tough enough? Am I a wus? Am I relegated to "has-been" status with no good running days ahead? I cannot begin to tell you how much I detest this situation!

So what to do? Perhaps this is an opportunity to force myself into gratefulness knowing that the likelihood of a catastrophic cardiac event is slim. I can look forward to the end of May when I walk out of my office for the final time, leaving the frustration and stress behind. Having more control of my time, I can start over again, building back a consistent and strong aerobic base. Maybe I can teach myself to ignore my symptoms based on the reality of what those cine films revealed. And perhaps the added pharmaceutical approach to address a potential microvasculature issue will be effective.

So here I am at my keyboard figuring out my next move. I think I will contemplate life a little longer, be sad for a few more moments that there are no easy answers, and then go for a run.


Comments

Sandy Morrison said…
Totally understand. Though I can’t imagine living in your Ultra-world, after resenting falling off my bike, it’s tough thinking about the coming back process. And even if I can come back, what level will I come back to this time. Even more troubling is that I could fall again. Maybe six months from now, maybe six years…and then what. I’ll read your postings well as you really are blessed with the ability to say things that many people need and want to hear and say them so very well. I wish you the very best, whether you return to where you want to be or become a has been, but a shining example of a very good one.
Sandy- I think this might be a mutual admiration society. I am amazed at your biking over all these years.What you do is a lot more dangerous than what I do, that's for sure. And the miles you put in are so impressive. I know when I have been injured or recovering from surgeries on feet and ankles, it seems like a dream to return to normal. But I did back then. I hope both of us can return to whatever our new normal will be as quickly as possible. Thanks for understanding where I am coming from!
Stephanie- Thanks so much for your thoughtful response. I truly hope your patience in coming back leads you to both life and racing fulfillment!

Onward and upward for both of us!

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