Last year my daughter Jenny ran her first road race, the Portland Shamrock Run. That morning my defibrillator vest went off. I was in very bad shape and only weeks into facing my new mortality. But Pat and I were with Jenny at Waterfront Park with thousands of other lean, mean running machines. She got her t-shirt and lined up for the start. I watched her make the first turn and then headed for the finish line to cheer her finish.
My blog from that day was largley of reminiscing about running, about marathons, about having a body I could take out the door and work for hours on end. Though it contained hope, it was largely driven by grief.
This morning I have my sweats and tennis shoes on. Today is my first day of cardiac rehab at Legacy Emmanuel in Northwest Portland. I’m almost as excited as the morning of my first marathon! I know I have a ridiculous amount of work to do to return to long distance running or lifting free weights. (I have to rest after tying my shoes right now.) But I have found a way to finish most of what I’ve started in my life and this feels like perhaps my biggest challenge ever.
My friend Bob took me out for a good long walk yesterday along the Willamette river and the esplanade. It was a beautiful, crisp day and as we stopped in the middle of the Hawthorne bridge and looked out over the sun glinting water, I was filled with joy and hope. I recalled with incredible clarity the feeling of 4 weeks ago when I awoke from surgery, that I was, indeed, alive.
Sunday night I returned to teaching Confirmation. It was ILBC Night, when we bring in adult Catholics to partner and share their faith with the students. My heart was in my throat when the students came into the church. By the end of the night–a retreat, really–that ended with song and prayer, again my heart was just soaring with gratitude.
So I thought I would write this before my first session. Today marks a turning point. I am headed not merely to survival but to a future. I will have my glass heart in my pocket. And your prayers and good wishes to propel me. I also note, without comment, that the Portland Marathon is October 7.
Now get back to work.
Mike Ashland Still Alive! 
This post reminds me of the picture of you running with the unfortunate chaffing shirt!
Mike
Walking so far is a miracle if it feels good in itself. Keep on walking and it will lead to running slowly but surely. I am surely impressed by your determination and even more impressed by your will to go on , most would have given up by now and I am proud you never did. Go outdoor and enjoy life!
Love to you and Judy (of course the pets too, perhaps the dog can walk with you now and have her dad with her)
Now go back to walking !
Love V
YAY!!!!!!!!!!!! Good luck!
I can attest to hearing many patients waking up from similar surgery with similar feelings : “I’m ALIVE!” It must be a remarkable moment. And I am glad that you are alive, too!!!!! You have amazing strength, and an amazing God Redeemer who has many more plans for you! Keep trucking!
Hi Mike – Although it is long ago now, I too remember the wonderful feeling of getting a second chance. There is nothing better !! Life is a very special gift. Congratulations !! Enjoy those runs……….love from Sues
Mr. Ashland,
GEEZ, a simple little google search of “Mike Ashland” 2 hours ago and here I am on my 3rd cup of coffee having just read your blogs from start to finish. Everything I’ve read truly reinforces the fact that you are the strongest man I know. I still continue to admire that strength and calmness you’ve always had. I am sorry I have not stayed in contact these last few years. Guess we’ve got some catching up to do. nabbott@poppyridgegolf.com
Mr. Abbott