I think I had a heart attack on my morning run. The sound…
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I think I had a heart attack on my morning run.
The sound of the alarm clock startled me out of the best dream I’d had in awhile.
7:00am
Fuck.
I hadn’t set my alarm this early since my last day of high school. And that was almost 10 years ago now.
Really? 10 years?
Why do I do this?
Well, a recent check up with my doctor led to him telling me that I need to get my life together. He advised me to quit drinking, quit smoking, eat better and move more.
I guess all that makes sense.
I just don’t like it.
So, last night, in the spirit of trying to take his advice seriously I dug out my old tennis shoes from high school, the ones I wore to my last gym class, and a pair of shorts that I acquired in my early twenties.
They may be two sizes too small now but they will get the job done.
After setting those out I set my alarm for 7am.
And now it’s here.
I push the blankets off and slowly climb my way out of the bed. My ankles and knees setting off a rice crispy symphony. I snap, crackle and pop my way into the bathroom, piss, brush my teeth and throw on my outfit.
On the way out I pause and catch myself in the mirror.
I guess this is the start of a new journey.
I throw my AirPods in and head out the front door.
So the plan is to run around my apartment 7 times this morning. I have done the math and apparently that is about a mile.
I feel like that should be pretty easy.
I remember running the mile in high school. It wasn’t so bad.
I can do this.
I throw on some “metal workout playlist” I found on Spotify while I lightly stretch against the fence at the bottom of my stairwell.
Feeling loose I approach the sidewalk and count down in my mind.
3.. 2.. 1..
I take off.
It’s simple. One foot in front of the other.
This really isn’t so bad after all.
I pick up speed a little as I gain confidence. Rounding the first corner. Guitar riffs and double bass beating in my ears.
The sun feels nice on my skin.
It’s not something I have felt in a long time.
The last ten years of my life have mainly consisted of pizza, 2 AM horror movies, hitting the bong and playing whatever video game I was randomly devoting 60+ hours a week to.
I can’t say it hasn’t been fun but I really don’t have anything to show for it.
This feels nice for a change of pace.
Maybe this could become normal for me.
Maybe I could be this guy.
I round the last corner, starting to feel a bit more winded now.
Almost one lap done. 6 more to go.
My heart is racing and I am getting winded. There is a tightness in my chest. It hurts pretty bad but I am pretty sure that’s just because I haven’t ran in like a decade.
Maybe I should stop and walk for a second?
No.
That’s pussy shit.
I’ll be fine.
I pump my hands harder. As if doing so can will my legs into taking more damage. Generate more output.
Sweat drips down my neck. I run my hand through my hair and wipe my hand on my shorts.
I’m choking on breaths at this point as I pass the lap and a half point.
My chest feels like someone is sitting on it.
My heart is a never ending drum roll.
I fix my eyes on the upcoming corner. My vision starts to blur.
Just as I am about to stop. Give in. Take a breath. Rest.
It all stops.
The weight lifts from my chest.
I feel my heart rate stabilize.
I feel free.
I feel a burst of cold air blow through my hair.
This must be the “runners high” I have heard about.
It feels so great.
I pick up the pace.
I had just rounded the corner and am barreling towards the next corner with ease. What felt like an impossible trek now feels like the smoothest ride of my life.
“AHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!”
A blood curdling scream rings out through the complex.
“HELP! SOMEONE HELP!”
I rip the airpods from my ears and will my feet to an abrupt stop.
I turn and listen.
Silence.
I start to backtrack.
As I round the corner I see a woman on the sidewalk. She is crouched over something and she has her phone to her ear. She runs her free hand through her hair.
Maybe she found an injured animal? A lost cat? What if she’s having a medical emergency?
I take off running towards her.
“Are you okay? I’m coming! What’s going on?”
No response.
As I approach I hear her on the phone.
“I don’t know! Just please hurry! I don’t think he’s breathing!”
I stop a few feet short of her.
“Hey! Are you okay?”
Still no response.
I inch closer to her. I reach out and place my hand on her shoulder.
She doesn’t move.
She just keeps talking.
“No, he still hasn’t moved.”
I look over her and see what has caused such distress.
On the ground is a man, laying face down. Blood has pooled beneath his face and leaked off of the sidewalk and onto the street surrounding the complex.
One of the man’s hands is bent under his chest, the other dangles to the side of his body.
My gaze moves from his chest and down to his legs.
A pair of shorts that hardly fit this man were of little defense from this fall. His legs are scraped and bloody.
Sirens flood the street as the ambulance screams and wails behind us.
That’s when I notice the shoes.
Looking down at my own feet, I realize that we are wearing the same shoes.
After a second look, the same shorts too.
The EMT’s pour out of the ambulance.
“Oh thank god you’re finally here. He’s still not moving.”
“How long has he been unconscious?”
“5 minutes? Maybe? I don’t know. Everything is moving so fast. Help him!”
I watch as the EMT’s flip the man over.
His nose is broken.
Streaks of scrapes consume his face.
I don’t understand what I’m seeing.
The EMT grabs the man’s wrist and pauses.
“We don’t have a pulse.”
This can’t be possible.
The EMT’s have started chest compressions on me.
#entertainment
source
The sound of the alarm clock startled me out of the best dream I’d had in awhile.
7:00am
Fuck.
I hadn’t set my alarm this early since my last day of high school. And that was almost 10 years ago now.
Really? 10 years?
Why do I do this?
Well, a recent check up with my doctor led to him telling me that I need to get my life together. He advised me to quit drinking, quit smoking, eat better and move more.
I guess all that makes sense.
I just don’t like it.
So, last night, in the spirit of trying to take his advice seriously I dug out my old tennis shoes from high school, the ones I wore to my last gym class, and a pair of shorts that I acquired in my early twenties.
They may be two sizes too small now but they will get the job done.
After setting those out I set my alarm for 7am.
And now it’s here.
I push the blankets off and slowly climb my way out of the bed. My ankles and knees setting off a rice crispy symphony. I snap, crackle and pop my way into the bathroom, piss, brush my teeth and throw on my outfit.
On the way out I pause and catch myself in the mirror.
I guess this is the start of a new journey.
I throw my AirPods in and head out the front door.
So the plan is to run around my apartment 7 times this morning. I have done the math and apparently that is about a mile.
I feel like that should be pretty easy.
I remember running the mile in high school. It wasn’t so bad.
I can do this.
I throw on some “metal workout playlist” I found on Spotify while I lightly stretch against the fence at the bottom of my stairwell.
Feeling loose I approach the sidewalk and count down in my mind.
3.. 2.. 1..
I take off.
It’s simple. One foot in front of the other.
This really isn’t so bad after all.
I pick up speed a little as I gain confidence. Rounding the first corner. Guitar riffs and double bass beating in my ears.
The sun feels nice on my skin.
It’s not something I have felt in a long time.
The last ten years of my life have mainly consisted of pizza, 2 AM horror movies, hitting the bong and playing whatever video game I was randomly devoting 60+ hours a week to.
I can’t say it hasn’t been fun but I really don’t have anything to show for it.
This feels nice for a change of pace.
Maybe this could become normal for me.
Maybe I could be this guy.
I round the last corner, starting to feel a bit more winded now.
Almost one lap done. 6 more to go.
My heart is racing and I am getting winded. There is a tightness in my chest. It hurts pretty bad but I am pretty sure that’s just because I haven’t ran in like a decade.
Maybe I should stop and walk for a second?
No.
That’s pussy shit.
I’ll be fine.
I pump my hands harder. As if doing so can will my legs into taking more damage. Generate more output.
Sweat drips down my neck. I run my hand through my hair and wipe my hand on my shorts.
I’m choking on breaths at this point as I pass the lap and a half point.
My chest feels like someone is sitting on it.
My heart is a never ending drum roll.
I fix my eyes on the upcoming corner. My vision starts to blur.
Just as I am about to stop. Give in. Take a breath. Rest.
It all stops.
The weight lifts from my chest.
I feel my heart rate stabilize.
I feel free.
I feel a burst of cold air blow through my hair.
This must be the “runners high” I have heard about.
It feels so great.
I pick up the pace.
I had just rounded the corner and am barreling towards the next corner with ease. What felt like an impossible trek now feels like the smoothest ride of my life.
“AHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!”
A blood curdling scream rings out through the complex.
“HELP! SOMEONE HELP!”
I rip the airpods from my ears and will my feet to an abrupt stop.
I turn and listen.
Silence.
I start to backtrack.
As I round the corner I see a woman on the sidewalk. She is crouched over something and she has her phone to her ear. She runs her free hand through her hair.
Maybe she found an injured animal? A lost cat? What if she’s having a medical emergency?
I take off running towards her.
“Are you okay? I’m coming! What’s going on?”
No response.
As I approach I hear her on the phone.
“I don’t know! Just please hurry! I don’t think he’s breathing!”
I stop a few feet short of her.
“Hey! Are you okay?”
Still no response.
I inch closer to her. I reach out and place my hand on her shoulder.
She doesn’t move.
She just keeps talking.
“No, he still hasn’t moved.”
I look over her and see what has caused such distress.
On the ground is a man, laying face down. Blood has pooled beneath his face and leaked off of the sidewalk and onto the street surrounding the complex.
One of the man’s hands is bent under his chest, the other dangles to the side of his body.
My gaze moves from his chest and down to his legs.
A pair of shorts that hardly fit this man were of little defense from this fall. His legs are scraped and bloody.
Sirens flood the street as the ambulance screams and wails behind us.
That’s when I notice the shoes.
Looking down at my own feet, I realize that we are wearing the same shoes.
After a second look, the same shorts too.
The EMT’s pour out of the ambulance.
“Oh thank god you’re finally here. He’s still not moving.”
“How long has he been unconscious?”
“5 minutes? Maybe? I don’t know. Everything is moving so fast. Help him!”
I watch as the EMT’s flip the man over.
His nose is broken.
Streaks of scrapes consume his face.
I don’t understand what I’m seeing.
The EMT grabs the man’s wrist and pauses.
“We don’t have a pulse.”
This can’t be possible.
The EMT’s have started chest compressions on me.
#entertainment
source
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