On this edition of iRun Radio:
We’ll talk to Terry SanCartier, who finally reached his goal of completing 100 marathons, just before his 50th birthday. Also, elite runner Dayna Pidhoresky, on how she’s managing all of the uncertainty around when she’ll be able to run the Olympic marathon. And author and columnist Alex Hutchinson shares with us the science behind why this year and this pandemic feel like a marathon without a finish line.
What makes a new runner race his first 5K, live and in person, during a pandemic? “I wanted to go out and do something to get my hero cookie for facing many challenges both external and internal,” says Michael Kenny, a 45-year-old masters swimmer who took up running earlier this year when pools were shut down and he knew he needed to stay focused on his personal health. Having a similar level of focus and fortitude kept race director Barrie Shepley and his team focused on maintaining the Nuvo Iron Eggnog Jog 5k as a live race.
Virtual racing has been a big deal for most runners interested in any kind of competition this year. And rounding the corner to end off 2020, the chances of crossing a start line with other runners did seem like it was going to happen, until it did. Last weekend’s Eggnog Jog 5K gave runners a taste of that race day experience. Even a last-minute change in the race location (a decision made to avoid the regional pandemic shutdown prohibiting large gatherings) didn’t deter race organizers. As Shepley well knows, there may have been 1,000 reasons not to host his event, but for his team this was an opportunity to bring some of the race day energy and excitement back to running, in a safe, healthy and socially distanced manner.
With three backup location options, in the end the 38th edition of the Eggnog Jog 5K was held at Woodington Lakes Golf Club and it was the first time the race was held over two days. With safety precautions being a top priority for race organizers, waves of 22 runners started out on the course at one time. While all of Canada’s race directors look for ways to hold variations of their live events, and put forth amazing virtual options, Shepley’s team was able to figure out how to hold a race. Along with keeping everyone at a distance, masks were required for runners prior to crossing the start line, after crossing the finish line and everyone was asked to leave after they had completed their race. The two-and-a-half-kilometre loop challenged runners with its rolling hills, while offering scenic views of the lake and golf greens. With 750 runners racing in person and another 150 taking the virtual option, Shepley believes the event has been one of the largest races of the year.He is also grateful for the incredible support of the running community, including Sportstats and VR Pro teams, Athletics Ontario and volunteers from C3 Training and Woodington Lakes Golf Course. “We are very honoured and blessed that we were able to hold our event,” says Shepley, “And find creative solutions, and implement safety strategies that were safe for our volunteers, participants and the local community.”
Crossing the finish line of his first race, Kenny isn’t entirely sure when or where his next goal race may be, but he is proud of how far he’s come. “In many ways, I’m obligated to do what I can for my well-being,” says Kenny. “Weight loss and conditioning were a given, but overall health is the ultimate goal.” It’s a goal many runners will also be looking ahead to with New Year’s resolutions on the horizon, along with more opportunities to race in person in the year ahead. While runners across the country participate in #startlineimpact tweets about missing their in-person races, a word of comfort, then, about what—and when—in-person events might return.
What happens when you get to the finish line and there’s nothing there?
We’ve all felt it, physically and mentally, over the past five months. Our virtual races have been gratifying, a slap in the face to the coronavirus gods. You can’t take away my half-marathon! I will still earn that medal and get that t-shirt, dammit, even if they arrive in the mail. But the final steps have been taken down an eerily quiet neighbourhood street instead of a scream tunnel of finish-line spectators leading to a tribe of volunteers armed with an endless supply of water, bananas and enthusiasm. Instead of high-fiving other finishers and heading out for an indulgent celebratory meal, you push the button on your watch, grab a quick selfie and walk back into the house to make grilled cheeses for your kids.
And what about that other, cosmic, more desperately awaited finish line, the one our whole planet has been struggling towards? Thirty-seven kilometres into my first marathon, a spectator lied to me: “It’s just around the corner.” I heard the same phrase again a few more times over the next 5k. But at least in that case, it was eventually true. In the midst of this global pandemic, it feels like there are only corners and no destinations. And when you make so many turns, you inevitably wonder: are we actually gaining any ground, or just returning to where we started?
Until recently, the only second wave I cared about was in a start-line corral in Boston or Chicago. Now, as we roll the dice on schools and other institutions reopening, we don’t know if we’re going back to normal or going back to square one. In May, many runners thought they’d be racing again – in person – by September. Now you have to wonder whether 2022 is a better bet than 2021.
We don’t do uncertainty very well. It’s like trying to run a fast time on a course with no mile markers and no watch. How do we calibrate our pace? How do we tick off the kilometres? How do we dream of the glory of the finish line if we don’t know where it is?
To our everlasting credit, we have adapted. We have pivoted. We have even aimed higher. We’re taking on challenges, in life and in running, we never would have contemplated before. We’re home-schooling, doing grocery runs for neighbours and family members, and wearing dress shirts with running shorts on a parade of Zoom meetings. And we’re participating in races all over the world without ever leaving home. I’ve run more since the beginning of May than at any other time in my life, spurred on by the preposterous but somehow inspiring fantasy that I’m actually completing a double crossing of a state I have never visited. James Taylor went to Carolina in his mind; I’ve been running across Tennessee.
On one level, it’s very satisfying. We relish these tests, the opportunities to prove our toughness. Who doesn’t want to rise to the occasion? But at some point, there must be a chance to complete the task, to get the medal, to tell the story in the past tense.
Winter has officially arrived in the nation’s capital. From my classroom window I watch the freshly fallen snow dust the play structure, and coat the hills, and courts.
I mentally prepare myself for the evening’s run. The issue at hand is not the run itself—an easy 30 minutes—but motivation. I know getting my ass out the door at 8 p.m. after teaching, tutoring for two hours, and a forty-five minute piano lesson is not going to be easy.
I say goodbye to my final student and close the door. I hear the winter wind howling outside and I turn to my living room window to see the snow swirling under the glare of the street lights.
I shiver.
My black kitten looks up at me from the couch. He wants me to stay and cuddle. I can see it in his black eyes and I wonder if he can read mine.
Sorry, dude. Your mom is crazy.
I head to my bedroom and assemble my outfit.
Thick socks? Check.
Spandex shorts?
Thick tights?
Sports bra?
Dri-Fit t-shirt?
Dri-Fit long sleeve?
Garmin?
Check. Check. Check. Check. Check. And, check.
Time to suit up.
Michelin Man transformation complete, I pull my hair into a lazy pony-tail and leave my bedroom. I open the front hall closet and retrieve the final items required to complete the most chic-look I have ever sported. Neck warmer, thick toque, my Boston Marathon jacket, and gloves.
I sit on my front mat and lace-up.
Close the front door behind me and lock it.
Check my watch.
8:10 p.m.
Showtime.
I sync my Garmin and start down my usual route. My feet struggle at first to adjust to the slippery surface. And then, voila. I turn right onto Scott Street, a freezing head-wind slapping at my face.
I am not moving.
Rationally, I know this can’t possibly be true, but the head-wind is so strong I feel as though I am back on the treadmill, stuck in place. I am focused on the task at hand but still manage to notice select pedestrians emerging from the train station and observing me curiously either because I am not moving or for simply running in these conditions in the first place.
Ignore them. Just keep running.
I turn left onto Holland Street and I step back in time.
***
I am thirteen years old.
February. Late evening.
I settle down at the desk in my bedroom to complete my homework. I’m feeling nice and cozy in my pajamas. A white, two-piece set patterned with Hello Kitty images. A Christmas gift bought this past summer during a family vacation in San Francisco. I hear the winter wind howling outside my bedroom window.
I shiver.
I glance at the unlit candle on my desk. The accompaniment of its warm glow may just make my French grammar this evening more tolerable. I light the candle. The small flame flickers to life and I leave my room, momentarily, for a trip to the bathroom. I then head back into my bedroom to get to work.
He is hovering over my desk; the questioning starts. As does the arbitrary rage; making what should be a benign situation a potential minefield.
What part of you thought it was okay to light a candle and leave your room? Are you trying to burn the house down?!
It was just for a second! I just needed to go to the bathroom. I’m sorry! It’s not a big deal.
Not a big deal? I’ll decide what isn’t a big deal. Now, get to the front hall!!
No.
I should know better than to negate his order. The series of explosives is set off and there will be no refuge.
He brings me down the stairs and throws me into the front hall of our house. The double glass doors slam shut behind me and he turns out the light. I feel like a rag doll discarded by an aging toddler.
Being so close to the front door of the house, I feel the frigid cold from outside seeping into the front hall through the cracks in the ill fitting front doors. I stand up and turn on the lights. A foolish act of defiance I am about to pay for.
I hear his heavy footsteps approaching. The doors burst open and it starts.
GET OUT!!
Fine! I will get out and go to my room.
No. OUT OF MY HOUSE.
I panic as he approaches. Now towering over me, it is pointless to put up a fight. He holds my tense body under his arms and opens the front door.
The freezing head-wind whips at my face. Knowing what’s next, I begin to plead.
Please, no! I’m sorry! Okay? I’m sorry! I said I’m sorry!
The door to the house slams shut behind me. I hear the key turn in the lock. In the darkness, between sobs, I beg for him to let me back in. I desperately bang my fists against the door.
My socks soak up the snow from our front steps and I start to freeze in my pajamas.
My sympathetic nervous system kicks in, triggering the fight or flight response. On this evening in February, the response is flight. If I do not find somewhere to go, he is going to leave me outside to freeze to death.
So, I run.
My brain evades all logical thoughts as I take off down the street. No street lights. It is as though a thick curtain has been pulled up over my eyes. No, a wool blanket. I wish I could see in this dark, better than I do. The dim lighting from front porches offers little aid in navigating the somber path of my run. The unknown reaction that would occur from knocking on a neighbour’s door keeps me running towards a house I know will safely take me in: Kim’s.
I switch from running on the road and opt for the snowy ditches which run parallel. The slushy streets of Rothwell Heights have been absorbed into my wet socks. My feet and calves ache from pounding the pavement. The ditch’s soft snow provides cushioning for my feet – temporary relief.
The dark neighbourhoods I have covered allow me to remain unnoticed for most of the three kilometer run. I reach an unavoidable busy street. The street lights illuminate the sidewalks. My eyes adjust to their glow. I pick up my pace. Hiding amongst the shadows is no longer an option.
An intersection forces my run to a temporary halt. All I can think about is staying warm. I wrap the bottom of my pajama top around my shaking hands. My jaw throbs from the incessant chatter of my teeth. My breathing is strained. The cold air has taken its toll on my lungs.
The light turns. I respond instinctively as if having heard a starting pistol.
Go.
I make my final turn off Ogilvie Road into Kim’s neighbourhood. My breath is visible with each exhale. I weave through rows of townhouses until her familiar door comes into sight.
I bang on the door.
As I wait, I long for the future. Warmth. Shelter. Safety. The bitter conditions have penetrated my body. I am unable to control my shaking.
No response.
I bang on the door again.
I wait.
Still, no response.
I am crushed. Terrified.
What option do I have left now?
Defeated, I run and retrace the three kilometer route back to my house.
800s meters from the home, the headlights of a passing car illuminate my otherwise dark run. The vehicle slows and an unfamiliar woman’s voice calls out.
What are you doing out here at this time of night dressed like this?
My…my…(think fast) dog ran away when I let him out of the house to go to the washroom. So, I started chasing after him and I can’t find him. I’m not far from my house. I’m just heading back now.
Are you crazy? Why wouldn’t you put on boots and a coat? Get in the car and I’ll drive you home.
We make our way back up Swan’s Way and pull into the driveway. One of the three garage doors is open and the lights are on. The minivan is AWOL.. He’s not home.
Relief.
I muster a final thank you to the kind woman. She answers with a lecture about responsibility, and safety. And common sense. It was only a dog after all…
I enter through the garage and open the door to the house. My mom is waiting. She pulls me into her arms and cries.
I tried to stop him. But he blocked us all from the door. I was just about to call the police!
She helps me into the kitchen while my brothers fill the double sink with steaming water. Exhausted, I am lifted onto the counter. My socks are peeled off my throbbing feet.
The sight of ice lodged between my toes causes my mom to sob. Her sobs quickly drowned out as I howl in pain. My frozen feet have hit the hot water in the sink and the agony is unbearable.
Blankets are wrapped around me as my feet soak. I can’t stop shivering. My brothers fill the jacuzzi in my parent’s bathroom.
Alone in the tub, under the white light, I take a look at myself. It’s a good look, slow and level. I stare at my feet. Each toe, entirely blistered. The soles of my feet, swollen, equally blistered and full of God knows what.
Weeping, not crying.
Clothed in fresh pajamas by my mom, I feel like a helpless child. My feet are wrapped in gauze, thick socks, and knitted slippers. Even with all this cushion the pain of each step towards my bedroom is unbearable. My brothers step in and carry me the rest of the way.
I am alone in my bed. He still isn’t home.
As I drift into sleep, the weight of the blanket is surpassed by the emotional weight of the last few hours. Seeing the flickering of the candle on my desk, I wonder which will go out first.
***
The 30 minute run flew by. I stop my Garmin leaving the cold and flashback behind.
This evening I take my time in the shower. I relax as each drop of hot water connects with my recovering body.
I slip into my pajamas. A red, two-piece set with a checkered pattern. A Christmas gift received last year. I revel in the comfort of soft fabric as I settle down at the wooden table in my kitchen.
French homework, recently completed by my grade five students, is piled in the middle of the table. It awaits my revisions and feedback.
I glance at the unlit candle on my table and decide I’d like the company of its warm glow. Perhaps together, we can get through this marking.
The small flame flickers. I hear the wind howling outside my kitchen window.
I do not shiver.
I am safe.
Vanessa de Hoog is a human. Being. She runs, teaches, writes, coaches, and consumes too much espresso. This fan of the Oxford comma lives in Ottawa with her cat Gatsby. Her memoir of short stories is looking to be released in 2021.
Winter running is often a time that runners dread. Between the snowy terrain, the cold temperatures and the icy footing, it is not an ideal setting for runners.
After having my son a few years ago, I committed myself to getting back on the track. Aside from weekly practices with my team; late night runs in frigid cold temperatures became my new normal. After putting my son to bed, I would gulp half a cup of coffee and venture out into the cold. (A ritual I still continue to this day). If you are having trouble getting out for your runs this winter season, here is my survival guide to winter running. So that you can keep your stride, no matter the weather.
Although there are some nights I struggle to get out, the theme for me the last few years has been consistency, and seeing the bigger picture. It’s about appreciating every phase of my training and the small successes—including the completion of my late night winter runs. Happy Running!
Alex Hutchinson, well known writer, researcher and athlete, in a recent article, likened this pandemic to running a marathon with no finish line. As the second wave grips us and leaves many with COVID-19 fatigue, it’s easy to give up and throw in the towel in many areas of our lives.
This has left many of us to ponder why even bother to train, in the absence of races and defined goals. Earlier this year, I wrote in iRun about the challenges of running/training in an unstructured manner during this pandemic (See Goals Delayed are not Goals Denied)
As we approach 2021, still with many unknowns, including when races may safely return, I’m here to make an argument that for those runners who are goal driven, it is in your best interest to adhere to a structured training cycle.
Why, you may ask? Firstly, you are in the driver’s seat. It is one aspect of your life where you do have control. Secondly, most runners are inherently goal driven individuals, who function and train best when they follow a structured, goal-oriented routine. Winter running at best of times is challenging. When you have goals to strive for, you have purpose. Goals help you answer that proverbial question “why am I out here training during those tough weather days!
With no absolute timelines for races to resume, it may be prudent to stay in the moment and focus on short term outcomes. Be grateful that you are healthy and fit enough to train. In Guelph, we recently completed a successful series of seven time trials over six months. The distances varied from 5km to half marathon. Runners had to sign up in advance and generally we limited numbers to 20. The series provided runners with focus to keep up their training and many had personal bests, even in this low-key environment. We have seen and heard of similar outcomes across the country with runners getting creative to maintain fitness and goals dreaming of better days ahead.
That’s why I’m advocating to follow a tangible training cycle. The 12-16 week winter training cycle has always been the crucible for runners to build a solid base. It’s a time when nature forces us to train a bit more conservatively. This is a good thing. Your running can be augmented by strength training at home, even if gyms are not fully accessible.
Even during normal winter times, you can easily build in progressive time trials to test your fitness in the absence of races in the first 6 months of 2021. My one recommendation is that unlike other years you may want to keep your training mode to about 80-85% of the normal workload. The time trials can mirror the distances you might usually utilize established races to test your growing fitness over the winter. Many of the runners I coach in Southern Ontario, a staple build -up for a spring marathon might look like the following: a 5km time trial in early January to set a baseline of fitness, following downtime from end of November to Christmas holidays. This would be followed by the Robbie Burns 8km at the end of January. Based on feedback from these two events, February would be a continuation of base building and working on any uncovered weaker areas. Next on the race calendar would be a half marathon in late February/early March like the Chilly half marathon. This will provide essential feedback as to your readiness for your spring marathon. You will now be adding more hill work and tempo runs and early speed into your training as you prepare for the next spring challenge, that being the Around the Bay (ATB) 30 km at the end of March. The ATB provides you with a dress rehearsal for your spring marathon and provides concrete affirmation on your readiness for your marathon goal.
For others, the ATB can also signal the end of your strength build-up. After a short recovery, you may start to increase the quality of your training and decrease mileage and descend, to run shorter races 15km, 10m km, 5km and possibly even a track event. I am still optimistic that many races will return by next summer and Fall. By following the suggested winter-early spring build-up, you will be much better poised to take on those race goals that have been delayed but not denied.
Coach Tim can be reached here
On this edition of iRun Radio:
Todd Shannon decided to honour those who have battled cancer, including his own father. He ran 100 miles in just over 24 hours. We are also going to talk with the incredible Lisa Bentley, who has won 11 Ironman championships despite having cystic fibrosis. She talks about how belief trumps talent. And we are going to talk to runner and coach Phaedra Kennedy about staying motivated in this difficult year, especially as winter approaches.
On this edition of iRun Radio:
Hannah Sung is one of so many new runners in 2020, people who weren’t able to swim or go to the gym and turned to running instead. We’ll hear what she has experienced this year. Mike Caldwell is the organizer of the Mad Trapper trail race series. We’ll talk about how he has adapted during the pandemic. And we’ll talk to running coach Josh Seifarth about how to move up a distance this year.
Loaded with fruit and healthy grains, these muffins will add a nutritious boost to your breakfast on-the-go! They also make a perfect after school snack or lunch box item.
Makes 12 muffins
INGREDIENTS
1 cup quick oats
1 ½ cups oat granola, divided
1 cup whole wheat flour
1 tbsp ground flaxseed (flaxseed meal)
1 ⅓ tsps baking powder
1 tsp ground cinnamon
⅓ tsp baking soda
⅓ tsp sea salt
⅓ tsp ground ginger
¼ tsp ground allspice
¼ cup unsalted butter
⅔ cup brown sugar
2 eggs
¼ cup mashed ripe banana
⅔ tbsp vanilla extract
2 cups grated apples (McIntosh, Spartan, Cortland or Crispin)
1 cup unsweetened apple sauce
DIRECTIONS:
ONE: Preheat oven to 350°F (180°C). Spray muffin pan with vegetable spray or line with muffin cups. Set aside.
TWO: In a medium bowl stir together, oats, 1 cup of granola, flour, flaxseed, baking powder, cinnamon, baking soda, salt, ginger and allspice.
THREE: In a large bowl, using an electric mixer on medium-high speed, beat butter and brown sugar until creamy and light brown, about 4 minutes. Beat in eggs, banana and vanilla until combined. Stir in grated apple, apple sauce and dry ingredients until combined. Spoon batter evenly into prepared muffin cups. Sprinkle reserved granola on top.
FOUR: Bake for 25 to 30 minutes, until golden brown and toothpick inserted comes out clean. Let cool in pan on wire rack for 15 minutes. Transfer muffins to rack to cool completely.
TIP: For a different sweetness, try substituting coconut sugar for the brown sugar.
Recipe courtesy of Egg Farmers of Ontario.
Unlike depictions in the movies, a person having a heart attack, clutches their chest then proceeds to collapse, Richard Bailey, 71, retiree, and a runner of over 40 years had a very different experience while he was out for his weekly run with fellow club members almost one years ago.
Here is his story…
I started out at my usual easy post thrombosis pace expecting the thrombotic pain in my left leg to cause me to walk at some point – it didn’t and Claire and I made it to 5K in 36 min. We turned and within 500m met up with a few more friends. With Michael setting the pace we headed back at a brisk pace of 5:30-5:45 the fastest I have run since my PE/DVT (Pulmonary Embolism/Deep Vein Thrombosis) and I am feeling GREAT with no leg pain – I’m flying!!
At 1k into this pickup (6K) I notice a feeling in my upper chest (neck to shoulder) as if they are being compressed not unlike a hard workout but strangely different. We keep going and by 7K the compression is still with me and now my left arm is getting heavy; I decided to ease up and jog the rest of the 3K back to University Settlement. I tell Coby and Michael to go ahead and I will jog back as Tory and Clair are somewhere behind us. At the top of Dan Leckie Way, Michael and Coby are already heading over the yellow bridge, Tory catches up to me and we turn right and run along beside the railway tracks. By Spadina Avenue, I tell Tory to go ahead as I don’t feel so good and I will walk back. Fortunately, Tory stays with me and we jog/walk to Blue Jay Way and Front during which time I am debating whether I am having a heart attack.
At Front Street after weighing my options of going back to University Settlement to get my health card, going straight to the hospital, or calling 911. I ask Tory to make the call to 911. By this point I am breathing very hard and becoming anxious which has me walking in circles then bending over and finally kneeling to avoid falling over. Meanwhile I hear Tory on his phone say, “I’ve been put on hold” – Suddenly I get a feeling of DOOM. Taken off hold, Tory is answering inane administrative questions when I finally blurt out “tell them to get an ambulance here before I croak!” Tory relays the message! We wait, not sure if the paramedics are on the way. Several people offer to drive us to the hospital but having read over the weekend about shooting victims dying in cars taking them to the hospital I wait. Finally, a siren – a Fire engine arrives – not quite what I was looking for! Another 30 sec later the paramedic’s show up and claim me. They lay me down in the ambulance and have me chewing aspirin, taking my information as a sharp pain in the middle of my breast bone starts up, they spray nitroglycerine into my mouth. I looked at the paramedic who looked familiar so asked if he knows fellow club member Michael Moran – “my long term partner” says Rob Kovacsi, 80lb lighter than the last time I saw him!
The paramedics have arranged to take me to Toronto General Hospital (TGH) Peter Munk Cardiac clinic; I give Tory my lock combination and ask him to get my things to TGH.
Off to TGH we go 35 min after my symptoms first started and I get there in about 10 min. I was met by a team of about 3 people who along with the paramedics took me into a catheter procedure room; I said goodbye to Rob around 8:00pm and the team who prepped me took off my Garmin but did not turn it off. By 8:15pm (75 min after my first symptoms started) Dr. Horlick, who is supervising the angioplasty and stenting of my arteries asks how the pain was: “Gone” says I. Another hour or so later they have inserted 4 stents and I am on my way to ICU.
Not long after I get to ICU Rob drops by to see how I am and we chat for 15-20 min. The nurse tells me some of my friends had been waiting a while to see me and around 10:00pm they let Jimmy in who tells me Bert, Coby, Tory left after bringing my bag and waiting for over an hour with no information on how long I would be.
It turns out I had a major heart attack (Anterior STEMI ie 100% blocked artery), something I didn’t realise until several days later because it was nowhere as painful as my thrombosis. This diagnosis is still a surprise as my family has no history of heart disease, my cholesterol was in the range where taking statin treatment could be more problematic than not, and the only other applicable risk factor was age – really!! The major concern, apart from dying, with a heart attack is how much of the heart muscle dies and that is very dependent upon how long the blood supply was cut off which in my case was a maximum of 75 min and probably less as I am not certain the first symptoms meant my artery at that time was fully blocked.
I had an appointment with a specialist mid-December and was been told no running, skiing, hang gliding etc. until I got the ok – So it was back to walking!!
Post-heart attack and a return to racing.
I was not allowed to run until I went into rehabilitation in January 2020, and was subject to a stress test on a treadmill on January 7, 2020. I was allowed to walk, and started walking everyday, 5-12K per day, 7 days after my heart attack. In hindsight, this might have been more than the doctors were saying was ok but they weren’t very specific and I wasn’t going to ask “how much?” I was also advised during any physical activity, to keep my heart below the maximum.
The return to running started with a 2 minute run and 5 minute walk for a total of 35 minutes, 5 days a week. This routine reached 42 minutes before I started to run continuously in August, with 7-10K runs, 5 days a week. On the non-running days, I would walk or cycle. By September 9th, I was racing in my run club’s annual cross-country 5K, next was the club’s 8K in October and in November, I was 1st (out of 4) in the M70-74 age category at the annual OMA’s cross-country 5K.
Based on my experience, my advice to anyone who thinks they may be having a heart attack is don’t delay just call 911; paramedics are trained to stabilize you and get you to a hospital that is ready to treat you: time is so important. It’s no use showing up at a hospital that can’t treat you and then has to ship you to one that can!!
Post script: 2020, Richard Bailey is still plodding along with fellow members of Longboat Roadrunners
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