Phidippides needed a cardiologist

Do you know the legend of the marathon?  Well let me tell you...

The traditional origin of the marathon comes from the story how a herald named Phidippides ran the 26 miles from Marathon to Athens to announce the Greek victory and died on the spot. Phidippides was sent by the Athenians to Sparta to ask for help; a man named Eukles announced the victory to the Athenians and then died. Later sources confused the story of Phidippides, also called "Philippides," with that of Eukles. Although most ancient authors do not support this legend, the story has persisted and is the basis for the modern-day marathon. 

A few years ago I had this gradiose dream of running a half marathon.  I'd seen pictures and videos of friends and unknown strangers crossing a finish line, and I wanted to experience that. Sweat-soaked shirts, expression of angst on their faces, yet radiating this undescribeable glow of accomplishment that I wanted.
So I began to run.  It started with my son, in 5th grade at the time, complaining that they had to run a mile in PE.  Just one mile.  I told him that wasn't so hard, and that I would come and run it with his class.

Sure enough, on "mile day" I checked in at the office, got my neon green sticker with a photo of my driver's license on it, and went to PE.  Yes, I ran around the field with 30 or so 5th graders, and ran one mile in just under 12 minutes.  It's a good thing I didn't start my running endeavor now, because I'm pretty sure my son would be HORRIFIED if I showed up to run with his football team, now that he's in high school.  It is a thought, though.  Anyways, back to the topic at hand.
One mile at PE became 2 miles at the gym, and before I knew it, I was participating in my first 5K.  I actually PAID to run over 3 miles. My friend, Michelle, and I ran together and we had two goals: run the whole thing, and pass a man.  We accomplished both.

A few months later, we signed up for a 10K race, and again paid money to run even farther than before.  As the race drew near, I came down with the flu.  My training took a backseat as I tried to get better.  Race day approached, and I was not fully recovered.  Determined, I ran the race and came in....you guessed it....DEAD LAST.  The only person behind me was the guy driving the golf cart collecting the orange cones. That was awesome.

A few months after that, Michelle convinced me that we could go ahead and set our sights on the half marathon.  THE race I had been dreaming of running.  We again started training, but many times our schedules conflicted, so we had to run on our own.  This one particular Saturday we were going to do a 10 mile run together.  It was on a day that I had to work, so I was up at 4am, and worked on my feet all morning until 10, and then we were going to run as soon as I got home.  We started out, and at first, it wasn't so bad.  However, the grey clouds overhead started raining on us, the wind came up, and I was miserable.  I was cold, tired, and so incredibly sore.  I thought my knees were going to explode!  That day was too much for me, and I quit running.  Michelle continued on, and ran the 1/2 marathon that we had trained for. Looking at her finish line picture was painful, knowing that I had been THIS CLOSE to crossing that finish line with her.  I was THIS CLOSE to having that sense of accomplishment that was written all over her body. 
That was in February 2010.  For the remainder of that year, the Half Marathon Monster would tease me on a monthly basis. It would say taunting things like: "You could have done that",  "You gave up too soon" , or even "Running wasn't really THAT bad". 

I knew I needed to overcome this monster once and for all, so in January of this year, I set my mind to running again.  I found a training schedule that looked like it would work for me, and I stuck to it!  April 10, 2011, I ran the Big D Half Marathon, with my friend, Michelle, (whom I affectionately call my Running Doula) at my side.  It was everything I had hoped it would be.  Fun, exciting, nerve-wrecking, painful, deplorable, fulfilling, and thrilling all at the same time. I crossed that finish line, crying, in pain, and my face full of angst, yet I know my accomplishment was radiating from me. Aside from childbirth, it was likely the most difficult thing I have ever done. 

Last week, I was at the Dr's office with my daughter, for an ear infection.  I mentioned to the Dr. that I was having hives from some medicine I had been on, and she offered to give me a steroid shot.  She gave me a quick check, and listened to my heart before the shot, and said "Hmmm....I think I hear a heart murmur."
I actually had an appointment set for the next day with my Gyn, so she told me to ask him to listen to my heart and ask him his opinion as well.  So I did.  Sure enough, he heard it.  Faint, but still there. 
I made an appointment for the cardiologist for the following week, and now here we are.
Sitting in Dr. Santos' office this morning, he looked at the printout from my EKG.  There was an abnormality on the printout, so he asked me some questions.  Exercise was one of the topics, of course, and so I told him I had just completed a half marathon last month.  His head perked up, and his eyes got bright.  "Well that might just be it" he says.
Turns out, running like that can cause "temporary heart damage".  What??  All of this wonderful cardiovascular exercise I had been doing may have actually caused damage?

Yes, Virginia, running something like a half marathon may cause heart damage.

All I could do was laugh. 

Whether the origin of the Marathon is accurate or not doesn't really matter. Maybe if Phidippides had seen the cardiologist, he would have known that running from Marathon to Athens wasn't such a great idea after all.

I think that as part of my cardiovascular recovery, I'm going to sit on the couch and eat donuts.