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.
