At the risk of this blog turning into a depressing series of health scares and whinges I feel the need to write about a recent event. My mate Chris (my wife's cousin's husband) has just had a heart attack at the age of 49. Like me, Chris has the misfortune of inheriting some bad genes and despite a healthy lifestyle (not unlike mine although maybe not such a saturated fat facist) he went for a run on Saturday morning and came back with a heart attack. He was whipped into hospital where they put a stent in the offending artery and stuck him on statins and aspirin for the rest of his life. To my knowledge Chris has had no warning signs that there was a problem.
This was a reminder of the lessons learned when my dad died of a massive heart attack whilst out walking in the Peak District (near to where I'll be running in the Grindleford Gallop in 3 weeks time). Don't take life for granted for one second. It is far too precious to waste.
This put my intended run on Sunday in a completely new light. What if I'm on the verge of an attack? How would I know? Should I go? Of course I went. Better to drop dead out on a run pumped up with endorphins than in an office or railway station. My dad had the right idea. He was just about 40 years too early.
So off I went on a hilly on/off road 18 miler around the Chilterns. Had a nice time but was a little weary towards the end. Drank 1.2 litres of isotonic but lost 6lbs in weight. No chest pains though.
So, the next time you don't feel like going out on a run remember, that's one less chance if you don't go. You'll never get it back. And, who knows, maybe that run will add a few more days to your life. Touch wood.
Get well soon Chris.
Keep on running.