November 4, 2018
It’s been 5 years since my runner’s heart let me down and stopped pumping, only 300 metres from the half-marathon finish line. It was my first DNF race, after running 26 marathons and innumerable half-marathons and shorter distance races. I was wearing my Garmin GPS-enabled watch and it shows the cardiac arrest, up until they cut off my shirt and removed my HR chest strap. And it indicates that while I was running about 12 kph (or a 5-minute kilometre pace), the ambulance raced me to the hospital at up to 120 kph. But I missed that last part.
I’m thankful for the runners and bystanders who buffered my fall and started CPR and for the physician who happened to be walking in the area and administered her Epi-pen. I’m thankful for the volunteer medical staff at the race for continuing the CPR and trying to restore rhythm with their AED, and for the EMS crew that re-started my heart with their defibrillator. I’m thankful for the hospital staff and our healthcare system for taking such good care of me. I’m thankful for the policeman who drove my wife and daughter to the hospital when I didn’t turn up at the finish line.
I was in the right place at the right time for a cardiac arrest. Not everyone is so fortunate; fortunate to survive and to survive without significant psychological and/or cognitive impairment.
It’s been 5 years and I’m feeling good. I’ve even forgiven my heart for abandoning me that day. Now if I could only convince my wife that I should be running half-marathons again, life would be even better.