It's all about heart

There are so many things in life we take for granted. Our heart is one of them. For an average person this amazing organ, responsible for keeping us alive, beats about 100,000 times per day, and 35M times/year. Incredible right? And each of these beats ensures that oxygen, nutrients, and more get where they need to go. It's pretty crazy when you think about it. And it's not large, some say it is the size of your fist.

 

How much do you think about your heart? I know I don't think about it that often. I do when I can feel my heart rate getting high during an interval - it's a reflection of the work my body is doing - a signal of fitness (or lack thereof), fatigue, and health. I reflect on my resting Heart rate to also give me insights into how 'healthy' I am. But other than that? I just expect it to work. To be there.

 

Until now. One day in Feb as I was doing a 3 hour training ride to prep for my 'endurance-race-filled' summer, I felt my heart do something it hadn't done before. It felt like it was beating really hard and really fast. I've pushed my heart rate pretty high in the past, but this was different. I could feel my heart beat in my fingers , and I had no choice but to back off, to go really slow. My vision went a bit pink, and my peripheral vision was less focused. My chest tightened up and it felt harder to breathe. I was almost home, and chalked it up to a cold I'd been fighting, and purchased a new HRM as I thought my current one was failing. The next weekend it happened again, in the middle of Belgium Waffle Ride Arizona. 3.5 hours into a 7.5 hour race, it happened on the longest climb of the race. Normally at this point I'm settling in, and Its my time to shine. But that was not  happening. After the 'episode', everything felt hard. I had to dig deep emotionally and physically to finish - it was literally one pedal stroke at a time for some sections. Yes, I did finish 2nd in my AG, but it was not, for me, a good race. At the finish Jonathan asked me how it went. My response told more than I knew: " it was not great.  I felt like I was breathing death, but I am proud of me for focusing on relentless forward momentum".

 

I didn't give it a lot of thought until the next weekend. Third time is a charm, or for me, an alarm. It happened again, on a training ride. I knew something was not right. I talked to some friends and my coach. I started to look at my data. My heart rate had hit 223bpm for 5 min at BWR, and about 221bpm the weekend before/after. That was not good.  My race calendar went 'on hold'.  In that moment, all the planned trips and races went up in smoke. TBD.

 

I approached this like I approach most things - with energy and determination. :)  I called around - made an appointment with a highly recommended cardiologist and also took and appointment with a cardiologist who could see me right away. Long story short, I got my GP to order me a heart cam, bought myself a Frontier X2 which is an HRM that also captures your EKG, and started to collect the data while I waited for the recommended cardiologist.  Fast forward to today and I've captured 100's of hours of EKG, had an Echo, a CT Plaque scan, a stress test with heart imaging, and bloodwork done.  I got the heart cam results back - max heart rate of 362 (for that one, the HRM only measured 206!), suspected SVT with some Afib and Artial flutters.  I've spent hours learning how to read an EKG and pouring over my data.  I *think* I have figured out the pattern that causes the SVT to happen.   I've seen an electrophysiologist and they confirmed what the heart cam reported and got me in for an ablation procedure on June 13th which will hopefully resolve all the issues!  I feel so fortunate that in 3 short months I am already in a place where we know what is wrong, and we have a plan to fix it! Amazing, really.

 

It has been, so far, quite a journey. One filled with so much gratitude, grief, and reflection. Of recognition and remembrance that everything, including our time here on earth, is temporary. Of a deeper love and appreciation for what I get to experience each day. Of joy. And finally, of hope.

 

I am hopeful that the ablation procedure will resolve the issues, and I will be explore the great outdoors untethered, to push my body and explore my limits.   This evolution of 'becoming our best selves' is rarely what we expect it to be, and may not look how I want it to.  Regardless of how it evolves, my aspiration is to accept the journey with love, compassion, and joy.

 

Race report - BWR Arizona

 It's not all sunshine and roses, in fact what happens behind the scenes, can be pretty hard sometimes - this is true for everything in life. Work, Relationships, Athletic endeavors, and striving to be the best version for you. This weekend was a good example of this for me on the athletic front, and i'm sharing it on FB because i think it's important to acknowledge that we all struggle. We all have bad days. it's what we do when that happens that can shape us. I have more work and growth to do here - but am so happy to be on that journey with amazing humans who support me.

So .... this past weekend i did a 103mi gravel race in Arizona. Going in I knew I wasn’t in top shape. My knee was bothering me - i'd strained my mcl at Whistler, and it had flared up my right hip/glute and back. I had Zoe’s cold. Oh and that thing caused perimenopause was messing with me and i had wicked hot flashes leading up to the race which meant crap sleep. But that’s life and that’s racing. I knew it would be hard but I was committed to doing the race. Looking back I don’t think I mentally prepared for just how hard it would be. It was brutal.

My word for the day was gratitude. And contrary to how I might sound so far, I was grateful. You see, despite all these life things, i was here! The weather was perfect. The scenery was amazing. I was here to ride my bike all day- what a treat! In the start shoot I saw the moon - how cool. i love seeing the moon in the day. This moon would be my steady companion thru out the day.

The start was insanely fast… after the 10k climb we would dip into the dirt and no one wanted to be caught behind anyone else. I was one of those people and worked really hard to keep on a good wheel leading into the dirt. Once there I practiced safe passing and did my best. I felt pretty good, not amazing- my back hurt and my right hip hurt like heck but I’d applied some tiger balm and it was helping.

Into the dirt I was feeling pretty good and did a good job ignoring the pain in my back and hip. My knees were holding up with the copper compression sleeves I had on (that doubled as knee warmers!). I got stuck behind some slower riders, relaxed, and passed when I could. Once we were back on the dirt roads I found my caffeine and Tylenol. It’s like I felt it immediately, I felt so good going into 3 hours. And I was half done already! Wow, I thought, this could be a good day.

At this point I’d made one fatal mistake you cannot undo. I had not eaten enough. When I realized it had been 3 hours and I’d maybe consumed 300 cal, I started to shove food down my throat. But you cannot undo mistakes like that, and I would pay for it.

The wheels seem to come off around mile 75 to mile 95. And these miles were brutal. 2 miles of sand I could not ride thru. Single track that was grueling and where you did lot get any rest on the descents. Climbing. A lot of climbing. I watched the girls I’d been riding with and had passed, pass me. I said to myself. It’s ok. You just keep moving. Your job is to suffer now, so suffer as much as you can. I had no ability to push. I kept eating. Around mile 90, it came back. Part of it was that my body had more fuel. And part of it I’m sure was that I knew the suffering would be over and at the end I’d ask myself if I’d suffered as much as I could. I wanted to answer myself that yes, honestly I had. And I did. I honestly had suffered as much as I could on the day.

The views were so amazing. And every time I’d be tired and be hurting, I’d look out to the view and say “thank you”, locking the moon in my gaze. The moon was still there. I was still there. I could do this. I just kept pedaling and at some point it felt like my legs were on auto pilot.

I knew my power was low and ignored the numbers, focusing on the km until the next turn so I could break up the ride. The hardest part was a road climb where I seemed to struggle to hold over 160w. It was so demoralizing. I turned inward. Give what you have I told myself. Don’t leave any regrets out here. And I didn’t. i'm proud of not giving up.

Several times in the race I wanted to cry. My back hurt so much. My hip hurt so much. It was hard to push, my breathing was off. I could tell my glutes were not firing and my back was taking the load. Every time It felt 'too hard', i would ask myself: can you keep pedaling? Yes. Then stop feeling sorry for yourself and keep pedaling! Ok. I kept moving. I looked up. the moon was still there, my loyal companion. At this point, I didn’t give a crap about anyone else. I passed some and some passed me. I kept pedaling. I was deep in my own world of suffering mixed with gratitude. I kept looking up to see the moon, still in the sky, and the views - so breathtaking.

At the finish I was so done! I was not happy with my performance, but i had showed up for myself and i had dug so deep. my girls were proud of me. I had placed 2nd in my age group. And honestly I was proud of me too. I’d done something very hard for me on that day. I wish it had been a different kind of hard. But it’s days like this that make us realize what we are capable of. And make us question our life choices 🤪

and yes, i want to do another one. and i want to do better, to remember the lessons i learned and get another chance to see what i can do - emotionally, physically, mentally. And so now it's time to recover and recharge so i can try this again.

huge shoutout to my family - what great support i get! And to my community - my coach, Element Cycles for getting my bikes ready, and my friends. I feel like such a winner just by having these amazing humans in my life.