This past November I ran in the Malibu Marathon, a beautiful race along PCH from Camarillo to the sand in Malibu. I expected it to be a nice, easy race as I took my time enjoying the view and not worrying about the clock.
The miles were going by with relative ease until I felt pain in my chest. The pain was intense and forced me to walk. My heart beat out of my chest as I racked my brain trying to figure out what was going on. I was well hydrated and running at a comfortable speed, it just didn't make sense. I tried running again but the pain got worse and my heart beat faster still.
The nice leisurely run turned into an agonizing last seven miles. I wasn't able to move faster than a shuffle and limped across the finish line, defeated.
In the weeks that followed, I visited multiple doctors and took all kinds of tests. I am happy to report that nothing was found and I have a clean bill of health. I decided that the scare was my body giving me notice that it does indeed have limits, but as I have said before I enjoy pushing those limits. The little scare humbled me, but weeks later that would turn to motivation...