(NOTE: Not going to apologize for the dearth of posts. I’m just going to post races, workouts and other thoughts as they occur to me to get them entered. That is all. Enjoy – or not.)

Six weeks post heart surgery. I had done a few test runs, realized how horribly out of shape I was, but when you get a second chance at one of the biggest passions of your life, you take it.

Here goes:

I never thought I’d get here. I knew I was weak, that after five months of enforced non-running, except for cardiologist-approved treadmill work while “wired up for sound,” it was time to get back up on that bucking bronco and get to work.

My hands were shaking on the early morning drive to the west end of the San Fernando Valley on that early Saturday morning. Made it to the designated section of road and parked. Sighed, got out of my car, and I almost got back in again.

So much had happened since six weeks post surgery. It was as if I had drowned, was rescued, and brought back out of a coma to a doctor telling me that everything was all right now. It was as if I had busted a leg, and after dire warnings that while the surgery might straighten my leg out and heal it, that I would live with a limp for the rest of my life. It was like dying, appearing before St Peter’s gates, and being told that I had one chance to avoid Hell: go back to Earth and live my best life.

I was at the point where I could run about four to five miles without stopping, and my body hurt after that formidable distance. But this was a race I had wanted to run for years, and here I was.

I opened the car door and got out. For real this time.

I met a few running friends and we chatted briefly before the starting gun went off. And when it did, I took my first real steps back to competitive running. So how did I do?

First off, I was not ready for the hill. It’s a hill I can run up now with little to no problem. But at that time, I found myself walking, putting my faith in a repaired heart artery that had a completely unblocked passage where a 100% blockage had been not two months before.

The trail was terrible. Rains had turned the trail bed to a criss-crossing network of pits and shallow ravines. Lifting my leg at each step to overcome each step taxed my weakened muscles. After the hill and a long traverse across a windy plateau, the trail descended steeply to a creek bed and entered an oak forest. Ahead of me was a section of creek that I would have to run through, and I did! Water entered my shoes, and my steps had a squeak to them that continued for the next mile. Then a hill again, and a long, choppy trail back to the finish line.

I hate saying this, but I had to walk several times. My muscles were still weak, and despite my clean-as-a-whistle cardio system, I was not in a place to push for speed.

But I did finish in 1:32:32, about 92 minutes for the 7.5 mile race. Not bad, considering. I even managed a nice smile for the camera.

I was back in the game. But boy did I have a load of work to do!