Arghhhhh

Arghhhhh.

The last three times we have included sprint intensity into our Saturday sessions I have gone into A-Fib. I felt that familiar ‘plop’ in chest, lump in throat and pressure in neck veins the moment we hit the gas for the 15 second sprint. I also watched my heart rate monitor hit a high of 220 and then proceed in the usual fashion of ponging between 118 and 185 for the remainder of the set. I suppose the good news is that it hasn’t knocked me to the floor yet, but it still is troublesome, making the morning anti-coagulation medication intake ritual crucial. This is to avoid the real killer of A-Fib, stroke. There will be no go if the blood don’t flow.

For now I deal with it, used to the symptoms and (self) treatment. Should be an interesting visit to the cardiologist next month. I am sure when we download the pacer’s data it will look more like a roller-coaster than a flat stretch of track. My job at this point is just to keep the train rollin’. Get to the UDub Medical station and see what the smart folks have to say. Obviously the top spot on the disaster menu is the aforementioned stroke. But in the number two slot, and perhaps with even greater disaster potential, is the intensity trigger. If I can no longer hit speed, wattage and power levels without immediately triggering this arrhythmia response, I would be, well, disappointed. No, I would be mad as hell.

For awhile anyway. I am sure that the reality of the situation would eventually foster a review prompting a Zen approach much like the one we discussed yesterday, just more goose shit on ball cap. I was hoping we wouldn’t need to go there - but looks like we are.

For the sake of analysis (the scientific method) here is what we did this morning to launch the current situation:

10 minute warm up.
.15 second seated sprint
.45 standing @ gear 16
.60 seated GZSS (groove zone sweet spot)
.60 standing GZSS
.60 recovery @ 7/120

We then repeated that structure adding a standing gear (17, then 18) and a minute to each recovery.
Total time - one hour. My actual calorie count was the usual 500 but two class mates reported over 700. A DGWO, dang good work out.

With the A-Fib exception of course.

It is somewhat ironic that in a few hours I will be eulogizing Dad. Dad died of a major stroke the weeks ago. He had chronic A-Fib as did his Dad, who died of a stroke in 1998. The folks in the semi-assisted living facility are hosting, from what I have gathered, an informal service in the rec room at 1300. I have been invited and quite confident that I will be asked to speak. Same way that I did for Mom in 1997.

I hope to do a little better this time than I did with the last.

I am going to jot some notes here in preparation.

Dad was one of a kind. He loved helping people, whether that meant fixing their car, providing taxi service or walking their dog. I first met him on August 31,1952, he saw me take my first breath and almost 66 years later I watched him take his last. It was a good run. We did a lot of fun stuff together, he was my first baseball coach, we went fishing for albacore, he taught me how to change a tire and jump start a stalled Ford. He paid for may education for 12 years and kept a roof over my head. We golfed, BBQ’d and mowed the lawn together. We went to college football games, from California to the University of Washington together, from Paul Horning to Jake Locker. When Dad moved up from Sacramento in 2002 we had a chance to re-connect. Dad felt he owed his youngest son, Michael and his son Elliott, some simple assistance. Nothing like having the extended family around. But, as you all know, hitting 80 takes a toll, and his health began to gradually decline. He lost a step, and the knee injury, to the same knee he injured playing HS football in 1949 & 1950, dramatically impacted his mobility. And he didn’t like the idea of sitting on the couch all day, patience not being his strong suite. So today we bid George a farewell. I thank all of you for your part in his last few years at the Winslow Arms. He spoke of you all in glowing terms. Thank you for your kindness and caring, the two traits that I will always remember Dad never shying from. God Bless Roseville George and God Bless you all. Thank you.

Arghhhhh.