Overcomming Medical Issues, 3 Lessons

Hey runners, how’s it going?

Let’s talk about something most older runners don’t want to talk about. We’re real good at complaining about hard workouts and injuries. We’re less good at talking about the other stuff — the medical issues that show up out of nowhere and have nothing to do with how many miles we ran last week.

Today I want to share three lessons that came out of having a heart attack and my years as an ultrarunner — lessons that didn’t show up in time for either of those, but are getting me through what’s hit me this year.

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About 8 months ago, I was standing in our kitchen, the room started spinning. Out of nowhere. One minute I was fine — the next, I couldn’t stand up without holding the wall.

The diagnosis was **vestibular neuritis**: a swollen nerve in my inner ear that scrambles your sense of balance. It can take months to settle down. Fortunatly, I can do most things, drive a car, go shopping and run for a bit. I run like a drunk, just barely off balance, and I have to take occasional walk breaks to regroup.

This last weekend was our local marathon, one I’ve run countless times. This year I entered the 5 miler — not the marathon, not the half, the 5 — with the modest goal of running the whole thing without walk breaks. I ended up walking a few times even on the downhill last mile to the finish. That’s what 8 months of vestibular recovery looks like on race day.

That’s a long stretch from running ultra’s in the mountains. But I’m not throwing in the towel.

Here are the three lessons keeping me in the game.

Shortly after my first heart attack at 50, I ran a marathon to get back on my feet. That run got me invited onto a Hood to Coast relay team called “SCAR TREK”— a team of open heart surgery survivors.

Twelve guys. All open heart surgery survivors. All running competitively.

I looked around the van between exchange points and thought: “If these guys can do this, what exactly am I telling myself I can’t do?”

That van was where “not done yet” was born for me. I left that race and got into ultra racing, which at the time was a borderline crazy thing to do as an open heart surgery survivor. But I knew it was something I could do, and that the limits I’d been handed were not the real limits.

Now, sitting out my running with vertigo, that same mindset is what keeps me from writing myself off. I’m not done yet. I’m grounded for now. There’s a difference.

Ultra running teaches you one thing fast: no matter how well you plan and prepare, something’s going sideways out there.

Your shoes fill with grit. Your stomach quits. The aid station is out of the one thing you needed. You can’t ruminate over past failures, you can’t dread what this may mean about your finish time — you stay in the moment and solve the problem in front of you. That’s what gets you through these multi-hour events. Not your plan. Your ability to *be there* and *deal with what’s in front of you.*

That’s the same lesson I’m leaning on with this new medical issue.

I could spend my days boohooing that I got this thing in the first place. I could spend them worrying about whether I’ll ever string together a real run again. Instead, I’m just working the problem every day: “What can I do today to make things a little better?”

Some days the answer is balance work. Some days it’s a slow walk. Some days it’s nothing. But the question is the same every morning, and that’s what keeps me moving forward.

I learned this one the hard way at a 100-mile race.

I hadn’t eaten a bologna sandwich in twenty years. But at mile 35, with a stomach full of gels and a long night ahead, it looked like the best meal I had ever seen. I ate half.

For the next ten miles, I thought I was going to die. Stomach sideways. Pace falling apart. Certain I was done.

But I kept moving. And by mile 80, I was passing people on the steep climbs and feeling great.

The lesson stuck. When it feels like the wheels are coming off, sometimes you just need to keep moving. Things don’t always get worse. Sometimes they turn around in ways you couldn’t have predicted in the middle of the bad patch.

That’s the lesson I remind myself of on the days my balance feels worse than the day before. It doesn’t always get worse. Sometimes you’re just in the bad patch. Keep working!

These three lessons came out of a heart attack and a couple of decades of ultra running. They didn’t show up in time for those — but they showed up for this.

Vertigo grounded me. It didn’t end me.

If a medical surprise has sidelined you — something you didn’t see coming, that has nothing to do with how well you’ve trained, remember these lessons:

• You’re not done yet.

• Stay in the moment and work the problem.

• And remember — it doesn’t always get worse.

What’s the medical surprise you’ve had to navigate, and how did you handle it?

Let me know.

Have a great week!

-Herb

“Run Smarter, Live Longer”

P.S. Ready to go deeper?
The Forever Runner Method is a proven, step-by-step framework built specifically for runners over 50 who are tired of getting hurt and are ready to run smarter. If you want to discover how, Grab a copy of my book at Foreverrunner.com.