Triathlon Training and the Marvellous Mr. Yi

Recently, I’ve been reflecting on the intention of the blog. 

I wanted to share both a physical and medical challenge that had a profound impact on my life as a way of reaching out to others who may be dealing with similar challenges, and hopefully encourage, support, and empathise with their situation.

The greatest enjoyment I had during training for the Ironman was being part of something, that something being the Telford Triathlon Club. In my experience, being around people drives you on to achieve your goals. I would go as far to say that you should challenge yourself to associate with people who are not like you, who think and act different, and allow yourself to be comfortable in their company.

Being part of Telford Tri Club has been fantastic for me, as someone who doesn't take themselves seriously and loves the crack. I can turn up at training sessions and be mischievous, try to make others laugh, and at the same time get fit and focus on achieving my goal. I must give a big shout out to the coaching staff for putting up with my tomfoolery when they were focused on delivering a program. 

However, the most enormous thank you must go out to my fellow triathletes. Graeme, Rich, Chalkie, Jockey, Sarah, Karen, Paul, Sylvia, Wing Commander, Taff, Luke, Chris, and Kev, to name a few, who made the long winter and spring nights on the track, in the lakes, and on the road less soul-destroying and more enjoyable. My biggest suggestion to others thinking about challenging yourselves; share the pain and enjoyment with others!

As the months went by, miles on the bike turned from 20 to 30 miles per session to 70, 80 and then the pinnacle of 112 miles, with no other than my training buddy Mr Richard Bradshaw. After that ride, it did focus one's mind on how much my arse would have to endure on the day! 

The swimming followed a similar pattern, starting at 1 km and easily swimming 4 to 5 km towards the end. Like most multi-discipline events, there's always one that is your nemesis, and I think most triathletes would agree that running is the darker side of training. Running 16 to 20 miles on the weekend wasn't my enjoyable pastime. The best piece of advice I could give is to suck it up! Nothing good comes easily. 

Returning to that muscle in the middle of your chest, the one that beats and circulates that excellent red oxygenated blood around your body. You know the one. I get conflicted writing this blog telling my story, as it sounds as if I have a life-threatening condition or illness that is as serious as cancer, or something that would reduce my life expectancy. It’s not either of them! It's a condition, that if not treated, would get progressively worse to a point that would have a detrimental impact on my health. 

So, back in the hospital with Dr Hothi having carried out all the tests, and the upshot is I have a severe leak to my aortic valve, which will need surgery. It turns out that I have congenital heart disease, and I have a bicuspid valve rather than a tricuspid valve, which one per cent of the population has. The most famous person with this condition would probably be Arnold Schwarzenegger. 

After the diagnosis, he hands the baton on to the surgeon Mr Yi. Before seeing Mr Yi, I have to return to see Doctor Jumbo-hotdog-fingers as I haven't had the pleasure of the prostate examination. The best way to explain what happened during this examination is to say I laughed all the way home, reflecting on what happened and the subsequent telephone conversation with my brother that went something like this: 

“Hi, Robert, Hope you're well.

I think I've got a slight issue with my heart. However, I had the pleasure of the inevitable prostate investigation which every man of my age has. Did you know that the prostate is shaped like a doughnut? I didn't until the doctor explained it to me as I was lying with my knees close to my chest. He was a kind and considerate gentleman who says he would be as gentle as possible. Every muscle in my body was sprung tight as he suggested that I should relax, easy for him to say.”

 

I explained to my brother that he the good doctor proceeded with the examination while I sat whimpering. At this point, he asked if it was painful the moment he entered me or touched my prostate. I still laugh, thinking about when “I replied I'm not quite sure. I haven't had many fingers up my bum.” 

In fits of laughter, I commented to Robert that at one point, I thought he had both hands up there caressing the doughnut. Needless to say, the examination went fine, and the next port of call would be Mr Yi.

What can I say about Mr Yi? 

Coolness personified, and such a groovy surgeon. The meeting with him can only be described as hilarious and heartwarming. When we first met, he asked if I had been experiencing breathing issues for a long time. I looked at him and said, “not really October, maybe since last year?” 

His response was different to what I was expecting.  

“No, Mr Christie, you have had this issue for many years, you attended a respiratory clinic in 2007.”

I'm now looking at the man who could be carrying out the most critical surgery of my life, and I'm thinking he is either a crackpot or he's got the wrong person. It turns out that it's me who is the crackpot, and he was bang on! 

He explains that I've had this condition all my life, and it is now affecting my health. He asked if I had any issues when I was younger at school. My reply was that I wasn't very good at reading and writing and I couldn't get a girlfriend. He looks at me inquisitively and suggests that this may not have been heart-related. I did say I don't take myself seriously. 

He then said, in more serious tones, that I had a second issue with my left main artery that was wrapped around my aorta, and that he would like an angiogram carried out to assess if there was any blockage due to the configuration of this artery. 

Next stop angiogram followed by open-heart surgery. As always finishing the positive, we complain about her beloved National Health Service, but they are always there for anyone in need. 

God bless the NHS!

Listen to your Body

If you're reading, this probably means you have come back after reading my first blog, so thank you! 

To pick up where we left off, it's late 2020, and I'm genuinely ecstatic that I have committed to one of my bucket list aims in life, signing up for my first full distance Ironman. For those unfamiliar with what that means, it is a swim followed by a bike ride followed by a run. The concerning part is the swim is 2.4 miles (3.8 km), followed by the bike ride is 112 miles (180 km), and to finish off the event is a marathon of 26.2 miles (42.2 km). So, just a leisurely day in the office totalling 140.6 miles (226.2 km).

I'm thrilled with this new challenge in my sights, and as I reach for that third green can of cloudy cider, I feel I need to share this great news. Of course, the first person I reach out to is my old training partner Richard Bradshaw. Rich is a great friend and a fantastic training buddy. He is a no-nonsense athlete who trains hard, but he is a thoughtful athlete above all else. This is why I really like training with him. He is meticulous with his training regime and super considerate of the people he trains with. Rich and I would become the Mortimer and Whitehouse of triathlon. He was over the moon that I had signed up and suggested he send over a training plan. 

Now, if you're reading this and thinking "I could give this a go", be prepared for some lunatic (in my case Rich) to offer to send you a training plan. I unwittingly took this offer up and were opened the spreadsheet with excitement and enthusiasm. Giving the training plan a cursory look over, I thought to myself:

"Has some crack pipe smoking Ironman enthusiast put this together?"

It's talking about training 15 to 20 hours a week. Don't tell the boss, but I hardly do that at work. To my amazement, about two months into the training puff, the magic smoking Ironman who had written the plan is started to make some sense.

In closing the Ironman section of this blog, I want to come back to being a thoughtful athlete. Before finishing off the obligatory fourth can of Friday night cloudy cider, I worked out if I had the energy resources to complete an Ironman event. 

It is suggested that you burn roughly 7300 cal when competing in an Ironman. Fully loaded on the day I would have 2500 cal readily available at the start. During the event, if I fuel up, the body would generate roughly 360 carbs per hour. If it takes 17 hours to complete the event, that's 6120 cals. Add that to my 2500 cals totals 8320 cals, and-

Shit, I have the energy storage and cals regeneration to do this, never mind having to tap into my 25% fat!! Another box ticked. 

-

Fast forward to 2021. I have made it back from Lincoln and vaguely described to Kell that I wasn't feeling very well on the Friday, but I did have a master plan. I was due to see my GP on Monday. In fact, I did consider it was the reason I was going to the GP on Monday that had caused my heart to be somewhat excited. That being,  I had an appointment with Doctor Jumbo-hotdog-fingers Singh who was planning on examining my prostate. 

How better to get out of this predicament by suggesting I had issues with my heart?

Again my emotions were running high on the morning of the GPs appointment, and I saw Dr. Ward, who I'm grateful to, for taking the time to listen and then carry out the appropriate tests. It was then somewhat of a surprise when he suggested I should visit that NHS hotel the paramedics suggested three days before. My reaction was, of course, I will. Where do you want me to report to? and what time do you need me to be there? Unfortunately, my anxiety heightened again when he informed me that he had ordered one of those lovely campervans with the blue lights on top.

The hospital tests led me to have an outpatients appointment with a cardiologist, who can only be described as one of the most attentive, caring, professional and humble medical professionals you would ever wish to meet, Dr Sandeep Hothi. 

When meeting Sandeep, he carried out a number of tests, listened to my heart, and reassured me that everything seemed in order. He suggested some further tests, like a true professional, including an echocardiogram, CT scan and MRI. I left that appointment feeling upbeat and started some light training.

 I attended the echocardiograph on Monday, thinking “ I’ll breeze through this, and we will be on the bike in the afternoon”. As he carried out the examination, I asked if I would get the results immediately, and he answered that I would. 

Assessment over, and the doctor informs me that my heart is strong and does no evidence of a historic heart attack. I'm buzzing can't wait to go home to tell the family. He then looks at me and says, however, you have a leaking aortic valve.

At this point, my head started to spin, and I asked what it all meant. I know what a leaky valve on my washing machine does, it makes a mess of my kitchen floor, but I have no idea what a leaking heart valve does to my body. I have a mental picture of filling up with blood from my toes upwards every time my heart takes a beat. Dr Hothi took the time to explain that the blood leaks back into the heart, which in one sense was a relief. 

Looking into the doctors' eyes, I knew that I would have to look out the big boys' pants, pull them up, and get ready for a rollercoaster ride. Inevitably, with any diagnosis, you feel sorry for yourself and ask, “why me?”. 

However, you quickly reflect on how fortunate you are in life and how others are much less fortunate than you! 

My advice to anyone is to always listen to your body, and seek medical advice if you hear something that doesn't sound right. 

The Ironman with a Playdough Heart

I wanted to set the scene before starting to write this blog titled "The Ironman with a Play-Doh Heart", just to show you what a difference a year can make. I am going to share my experience of taking on an Ironman distance triathlon and then discovering shortly after that I have congenital heart disease that stopped me in my tracks in October 2021. Along my journey, I hope to bring some laughter, maybe some tears, but most importantly, a mindset that you can overcome adversity and achieve your goals. 

It was a Friday in October 2020. I had just eaten a litre tub of ice cream and was considering opening a cold can of cloudy cider. And, from out of the blue, what enters my head? Let's commit to a full distance Ironman triathlon in 2021. That's big talk from a middle-aged, overweight, vertically challenged human being. However, you have to be in it to win it, right?

I say to myself, “Craig, should you think about this?” as I hear the gas erupt from the second can of cloudy cider. But still, before you know it, I've googled the next Outlaw Triathlon Nottingham, produced my bank card like some gunslinging cowboy drawing his pistol, and paid £350 for the pleasure of signing up for a full distance Ironman in July 2021. The fun begins.

I’ll come back to the Ironman preparation and competition later, but first, let's fast forward 12 months. It's Friday, the week is coming to an end, and it's a lovely day in Lincoln, but in all honesty, I'm not feeling 100%. I sit down and decide to just take 10 minutes sitting on this bench to compose myself before returning to the University.  

Then suddenly, I can hear a voice saying, “are you okay?” 

I'm thinking, who said that? 

As I open my eyes, to my amazement, two paramedics were looking at me and asking me if I’m okay. As expected, I say yeah, just perfect! All sorts of things are running through my head. I’m busy this afternoon, the caravan is in a field, my parked car is in an expensive car park in the centre of Lincoln, and I need to get home tomorrow. I have a lovely conversation with the paramedics, and I turn down the request to go on a trip in their beautiful campervan to the nearest NHS hotel.

I manage to get myself to the library and climb the three-storey building. As I reach the top of the stairs, I can feel my heart pounding and acting in a way that I haven't recognised in the past. As I take a seat in the quiet area and open my laptop, emotion overcomes me for some reason. I know that something more serious is occurring than not feeling 100% at this point. After a short while, the emotional episode is over. Time to crack on with life!

However, a note to oneself. No cloudy cider. Red Stag whiskey for me, until we speak to the medics at least.