Personal Stories

Morgan Haws' Story

Haws Inspires at Nationals

by Taylor Wilson, BYU Athletic Communications

It’s getting late. The sun is dropping below the horizon in Des Moines, Iowa, concluding another humid summer day in the Midwest city. But the day is not over at Drake University, where hundreds of the top track and field athletes in the NCAA have gathered to compete in the 2011 National Championships. One race remains on the schedule and it’s the longest race of the meet.

Morgan Haws has prepared for this moment all season. The junior at Brigham Young University competed as little as possible during the regular NCAA track and field season, hoping to maintain strength and energy for the National meet. A 10,000-meter specialist, Haws focused on her personal goals as she mentally prepared for the race.

“Going into the race my goal was to finish in the top eight because I’ve always wanted to be an All-American,” Haws said. “I was really well hydrated and didn’t warm up for too long. I had preserved my energy and my body throughout the season for this race.”

When the gun sounded to begin the 10,000, the runners took off at a slower-than-usual pace. The temperature had topped out at 92 degrees that day and the air felt thick and humid. Warm weather and humidity have little effect on sprinters and jumpers, but distance runners must deal with the heat for a much longer period of time. The 10,000 meter race is 25 laps around a 400-meter track, a grueling prospect in the face of temperatures hovering in the 90’s.

Haws stayed with the pack of runners throughout the early parts of the race. The 24 best runners from across the country were competing in the race, which is contested in a timed final format, meaning there were no separate preliminary and final heats. All 24 runners competed on the track at once, making it difficult to gain advantageous position on the inner track.

“When Morgan got started in the race she established really good position,” BYU high jumper Ada Robinson said. “She got on the inside part of the track and maintained a spot between fourth and eighth place for most of the early laps.”

Robinson, also a junior, finished ninth in the high jump at the 2011 National Championships. She and her teammates had looked forward to watching Morgan compete in the 10,000, due to the fact that she had run sparingly during the regular season. They all knew what she was capable of and hoped they would witness the effort she had been preserving all season.

With a little less than a mile remaining in the race, Haws provided Robinson and the rest of her teammates a glimpse of her elite racing ability. The pace of the race leaders had picked up considerably and Haws was able to sustain her energy and form as she moved into third place.

“She looked great for the entire race,” BYU women’s head coach Patrick Shane said. “We set the goal for her to finish in the top eight and earn All-America honors and she was in great position to do so. She had prepared all season for this moment.”

Haws transferred to BYU in 2010 after competing at Weber State University for two seasons. Three years ago, in 2008, she represented WSU in the 10,000 meter race at the National Championships in Des Moines. She had dealt with the Midwest heat and humidity before, and had also felt the immense pressure that comes with competing at the National Championships.

With just over two laps to go, Haws willed herself forward. She could feel the end of the race approaching as the leaders continued to pick up the pace and the stragglers continued to compete. All of the heat, humidity and pressure were nothing compared to her desire to reach All-American status.

If there was anything that Haws did not prepare for, it was tussling with another runner for position with two laps remaining in the race. Getting inside is normally a battle that occurs near the beginning of the 10,000 but dies down as the race continues and the runners spread out. But with 600 meters remaining Haws was in a battle to keep her spot on the track.

“With about one and a half laps left in the race, I’m not sure exactly how it happened, but I got tripped,” Haws said. “I was just laying flat out on the track and was really confused. After I got up, it felt like I had been sitting for a long time and then stood up really fast. I felt dizzy and lost when I tried to start running.”

A few runners passed Haws after she tripped, but not many. She had maintained her spot in the top eight spots and was still on pace to meet her All-American goal. But something wasn’t right. As she forged onward toward the final lap her legs wobbled and she struggled to pick up her feet and continue to run. Then, with about 150 meters remaining, she started to falter.

“When she first started to stumble, it was truly heart wrenching,” Robinson said. “She had come so far and I thought she had recovered after she tripped. But something didn’t look right. She tried to stay up, but just didn’t have the strength.”

Haws jogged and stumbled for 50 meters as she tried to keep upright but her legs gave out with just 100 meters left in the race. It looked like she had nothing left as her body folded on the straightaway and it looked like her race was over, with just 1% of the race remaining.

“It sounds so cliché, collapsing with 100 meters left, but I had nothing left in my legs,” Haws said. “When I collapsed, I was so frustrated. There was only 100 meters left! I had run over six miles and suddenly didn’t think I could take another step.”

Coaches and teammates watched in horror from the infield and the stands. Shane, a distance coach with over 30 years of experience, debated helping her off the track after she collapsed, but hesitated, knowing that once he touched her, her race would officially end.

“I wanted to help her so badly, it was so hard to watch,” Shane said. “But I knew that the moment I touched her she would be disqualified. She hadn’t passed out and I gave her a second to see if she could finish.”

Just seconds after collapsing to the track, Haws pushed herself back to her feet. She struggled to regain her form and seemed to exert more energy to just stand than she had to run the previous 24 laps. She moved forward tentatively, still preserving her top eight spot in the race, before falling to the track again.

“It was never a thought in my mind to quit,” Haws said. “It would have been so much less painful to just not finish. It actually never occurred to me that I could just stop. I had to finish.”

As Haws continued to battle the final 100 meters of the track, tears filled the eyes of many watching. This was an athlete who had given everything and was still trying to give more. She could have easily rolled off the track after the first fall but instead fought against her body to finish.

“I was full-on sobbing as she tried to finish,” BYU teammate Katie Palmer said. “I couldn’t imagine the pain she was going through at that moment. I was honestly scared for her life.”

With 50 meters remaining, the eighth place runner passed Haws on the track. With her hopes of becoming an All-American drifting away, Haws determination did not falter. At some point in the last 50 meters, she realized she could no longer stand. She collapsed a final time within 10 meters of the finish line, within feet of finishing a race that seemed much longer than 10,000 meters.

That’s when she started to crawl. On hands and knees, working just to keep herself moving slowly along the track, Haws crawled toward the finish. Just minutes after collapsing at the beginning of the straightaway, Haws lifted herself one final time, just enough to get her torso over the finish line, and fell hard to the ground.

“It was the most inspiring performance I have ever witnessed from one of my athletes,” Shane said. “I have never been so proud. As soon as she crossed that finish line, I raced over to her as fast as possible.”

Shane scooped Haws off the track before other runners came across the line and ran over to the training cart. The trainers drove her back across the field toward the training tent and began covering her in ice and cold towels. Her body temperature had risen immensely during the race and she had to be cooled down. As the trainers were working to lower her core body temperature, Haws experienced periodic black outs.

Trainers connected several IVs to Haws in hopes of getting more liquid into her body, but the black outs caused enough concern to send her to the hospital.

“It was very emotional for all of us (teammates) as we waited up that night while she was at the hospital,” Robinson said. “At times we heard she was doing better, then 10 seconds later we would hear she had gotten worse. It was such an incredible relief to see her the next morning, laughing, talking and walking around without any problem.”

Haws was in the hospital until the early morning hours, when the doctors determined she was healthy enough to be released. As she was taken back to the hotel, she learned she had finished 12th, which earned her Second Team All-America honors.

“Morgan’s performance rang true to the phrase ‘never give up’ in a way that I never thought possible,” Palmer said. “She showed me what it means to give every last ounce of strength your body possesses. In my eyes Morgan Haws is a National Champion.”

Story from BYU Cougars Web Site for Complete Story Visit http://www.byucougars.com/Filing.jsp?ID=15745, Photo Info. Morgan Haws finished 12th in the 10000m at the National Championships. BYU Photo/Mark Philbrick

Kent Scriber, EdD, ATC, PT

Professor, Department of Exercise and Sport Sciences
Ithaca College

Almost every year since the early 1980s, I have served as a volunteer athletic trainer for the New York State Empire State Games (ESG). These annual games, generally held in late July, serve as a statewide Olympic-type event for several thousand amateur athletes. I was assigned as the head athletic trainer for Athletics (track and field) during the 1985 Empire State Games that were held in Buffalo, New York. Although this was quite some time ago, I vividly recall a frightening life-threatening scenario that has had a tremendous impact on me in many ways.

The scholastic boys' 10,000-meter run started in the late morning. Although I'm not certain of the exact temperature and humidity readings, it was definitely a hot and humid morning. I was positioned with a physician outside the track around the 250-meter mark, or somewhere between the third and fourth turns. On the final lap, we noticed the third-place runner staggering. He collapsed just as he was coming into the turn. He stood up, took a few more strides, and then collapsed again. He was lying unconscious not more than a hundred meters from the finish line. His coaches quickly warned the physician and me not to touch this young athlete because he would be disqualified and lose his chance at a medal.

Ignoring the coaches' request, we were quickly able to get the athlete to the ambulance area, which was stationed very near where he happened to collapse. He was initially placed in the shade of the ambulance, and ice bags and wet towels were placed on his neck, forehead, axilla, and groin areas while the emergency medical technicians (EMTs) called the emergency room (ER) where he was to be transported. Initially, the Empire State Games physician at the site ordered the administration of IV fluids. However, the EMTs would not administer it without approval from the ER physicians. Instead, the athlete was placed in the back of the ambulance, which also was warm since it had been sitting in direct sunlight.
Precious minutes passed before the ambulance left the venue. Although I do not recall the patient's core temperature at the time, I later heard it was above 106°F (rectal) when he arrived at the ER.

After several hours of concern about this young man's health status, I was greatly relieved to learn later that afternoon that our young runner's core temperature had quickly returned to normal and that he was conscious and alert. If memory serves me correctly, he returned to the track in two days to cheer on his teammates.

The Empire State Games sports medicine staff wanted to ensure that this type of heat-related episode would never again occur (a road cyclist also had a serious heat illness on the same day). The night of the emergency, the staff met to determine what precautionary measures could be implemented. They determined that athletes could have water during their races, longer endurance events would take place in the earlier part of the day, and several events would take mandatory breaks during their competitions (e.g., soccer played periods instead of halves and took rest and hydration breaks between each). Later, certain policies and procedures for the care of athletes were also changed to better care for future emergency situations. In particular, a clearer chain of command was established to avoid confusion and discussions relating to who was responsible for whom at the time of an emergency. The 1985 Empire State Games ended with no further serious heat-related incidents.

In the years since this near-catastrophic event, I have discussed this scenario with my athletic training students for a number of reasons. Obviously, a major teaching point is the need to be knowledgeable and prepared ahead of time for heat-related problems and other emergencies. In addition to the xvi FOREWORD administration of the most appropriate treatment plan, of great importance is the establishment of a clearly communicated emergency action plan that can facilitate emergency care quickly when there is a potentially life-threatening situation.

For many years I was somewhat curious about the young man from Long Island who had collapsed on that fateful day and wondered what had happened to him. Through an interesting set of circumstances at the 2001 NATA Clinical Meeting and Symposium in Los Angeles, I found out that the young man who had collapsed from exertional heat stroke that day was Douglas Casa. We have since spent time together as professional colleagues. We have been able to visit each other's campuses, speak to each other's students and faculty members, serve on national committees together, and collaborate on a publication. Most important, we have developed a wonderful friendship. I was impressed with Dr. Casa's research
long before I realized our paths had crossed years earlier. I still remain in awe of Dr. Casa's passion for the work he does, and I am proud to know that my actions many years ago have been a catalyst for the
work that he has done since then.

Excerpt from Preventing Sudden Death in Sport and Physical Activity, Edited by: Douglas J. Casa, PhD, ATC, FACSM, FNATA, Publisher: Jones&Bartlett, Purchase book

Douglas Casa, PhD, ATC, FACSM, FNATA

Chief Operating Officer, Korey Stringer Institute
Department of Kinesiology, University of Connecticut

The story that Kent recounts was the seminal moment of my life. I have nearly no memory of approximately 6 hours of my life, while I was in a coma due to severe exertional heat stroke. A few lingering snapshots from those 6 hours dangle inside my mind, which I occasionally see at the oddest of moments. For instance, I remember saying my dad's work phone number, the only comprehensible item to leave my mouth in the 6-hour span. Why I could recite that number over my home number is still a mystery to me. I still wonder if a call to my dad about my demise would have been better than the news being delivered to my mother. It's amazing how the mind functions at such stressful times. I also remember
chaos and worry and desperation surrounding me at one point in the emergency room and the calming sound of a person in charge (who I came to realize later during my hospital stay was the physician in charge of my care). I also oddly remember ice-water towels on me during the ambulance ride and a peculiar combination of oppressive, crushing heat and wonderfully cold water dripping on my chest.

The most important part of my story stems from the night of my collapse. After being released from intensive care to a regular hospital room, I watched the local late-night news at 11:00 P.M. and watched them tell the story of my exertional heat stroke. It was powerful to lay alone (Buffalo was 10 hours from my house on Long Island) in a hospital room—utterly exhausted yet peacefully thankful—and watch a news account about myself. On August 8, 1985, somewhere between 11:00 and 11:10 P.M. EST, the path of my life unfurled in front of me. For all the years since then, I have been on a quest to try to prevent and treat exertional heat stroke. My story is not overly complicated. My survival penance has been to save as many lives as posssible from heat stroke and to prepare others who can do the same. The following story from Benjamin Arthur is one such example of the lives I have been able to touch.

While exertional heat stroke is one of the most common fatalities related to sports, it certainly is not the only one. This book is the culmination of the efforts of more than 30 of the most respected sports medicine professionals and scientists in the world related to preventing sudden death in sports. It is another chance for me to recognize my gift of survival and pay it forward with information about the top 10 causes of death in sport that can assist in creating more survival stories. I have experienced a wide array of emotions in my life, but no feeling is greater than playing a role in saving a life. When you see a person like Ben, whom you helped save, it stops you in your tracks and you realize your life has purpose.

Excerpt from Preventing Sudden Death in Sport and Physical Activity, Edited by: Douglas J. Casa, PhD, ATC, FACSM, FNATA, Publisher: Jones&Bartlett, Purchase book

Benjamin Arthur, MD

United States Army
Fort Benning, Georgia

At the time of the Marine Corps Marathon in 2008, I was beginning my third year of medical school. I was a student at the Uniformed Services University of Health Sciences, the military's medical school. I had been married for 4 years to my wife, Sara, and we recently had our first child, Mariella Rae.

I'm not sure what I dreamed about the night before the marathon, what I had for breakfast, or what was on my mind as I rode the Metro-rail into DC from my home. Maybe I thought about where I was going to meet everyone after the race or the chili that was going to be on the menu for dinner that night. I do know that the possibility of never seeing my wife and 6-month-old daughter again was not in those pre-race thoughts. No matter what I was thinking about, it took a lot of preparation by the Marine Corps Marathon Medical Staff and the "heat deck" team, and a heroic effort by Dr. Casa and his team, to save me from dying.

Beginning the marathon, I decided that I was going to try to beat my only other marathon time by roughly 20 minutes. I had trained for the previous 3 months and thought I was ready to run my goal time the morning of the marathon. Several high-ranking Marine Corps officers generated a lot of excitement from the crowd at the start of the race. There were thousands of runners, and there was an excitement in the air that only a huge race could cause.

I started the race fast. I was running under my pace each mile, but I felt good. The temperature was in the upper 50s and I was trained; I thought I could handle it. It wasn't until mile 16 that I felt like I had hit a wall. I thought mile 16 was too early to hit that wall, so I pushed harder. I maintained my pace through mile 20, then 22, then 24. During those miles, I started getting tunnel vision and becoming angry. All I could think about was finishing and how it was almost over. I thought if I finished strong and made my time, it would all be over soon. I didn't know how right I was. I made it from mile 24 to 26 with my tunnel vision increasing and my general attitude worsening as well. I hit the final 0.2 miles and tried to sprint to
the end. That is where everything went downhill in a hurry. I fell twice on the final hill and was helped across the line by my running partner as well as a race official. Looking down as my feet crossed the finish line was the last thing I remembered until the middle of my treatment for exertional heat stroke.

Next, cue Dr. Casa and his team. Twenty to thirty of the most important minutes of my life passed without me knowing how hard perfect strangers were working to keep me alive. The next thing I remember after seeing the finish line was looking up at the top of a blue tent as I was lying in the ice bath with people all around me cooling me off as fast as they could. I answered a few questions to prove that I was conscious, and continued to be cooled. From that moment, it was a whirlwind of activity, a short trip to the ER, and I was still home with time enough to eat that chili I probably thought about on the Metro-rail.

Dr. Casa and I have exchanged several emails, but I have had only one opportunity to meet him. It was a year later, when he and his team were gearing up for the next Marine Corps Marathon at a local restaurant. Over the course of the meal, he shared his perspective on my treatment as well as some new projects he was working on. It was evident that he has a passion for preventing deadly sports injuries and is one of the best in the world at what he does. He and I are connected forever because we both had heat strokes during a sporting event, and, through our profession, we have the opportunity to help others in similar situations.

Now, having just graduated from medical school, I am blessed with a unique opportunity. I will start my family medicine residency in Ft. Benning, Georgia—where, coincidentally, the most heat injuries in the Army occur due to the high temperatures and intense training programs. While in Georgia, I will have the opportunity to treat heat injuries at various training events, both immediately on site and after the initial incident away from the event.

It is a great honor to provide care for soldiers. One day I will be the senior medical provider treating heat injuries and will have lives depend on my training and care. Over the past several years, I have gained a new-found respect and professional interest in heat injuries and will hopefully provide excellent care—the same kind of care I received in my hour of need.

Excerpt from Preventing Sudden Death in Sport and Physical Activity, Edited by: Douglas J. Casa, PhD, ATC, FACSM, FNATA, Publisher: Jones&Bartlett, Purchase book

Run Your Race – by: Kelci Stringer

May 8, 2011 - Kelci Stringer, Commencement Speaker Address, Neag School of Education, UCONN

Good morning and thank you Dr. Thomas DeFranco for that introduction, and a special thank you to my good friend Dr. Doug Casa, who is a professor here and the chief operating officer of the Korey Stringer Institute, to the faculty, family and friends and of course to the Class of 2011.

I am humbled to be here at the Korey Stringer Institute, which bears my husband’s name, and I know he would be embarrassed by all the attention, but he might give me a fist pump for the reason the institute is housed here at UConn.

I am also honored to be joining you — the graduates – for this momentous and pivotal time in your lives. It was not that long ago that I sat where you are sitting, so I know that many of you have already started counting down how soon I will be finished speaking.

But if you will just humor me for a while, I want to share with you my story in the hope that you might glean something from it that may be helpful to you as you begin a lifetime commitment to teaching others.

First let me say, I did not plan on becoming an advocate or spokesperson for any issue.  I studied psychology and, after graduation from Ohio State University, I planned to work and maybe attend graduate school. In the back of my mind, I entertained getting married and having children but I can honestly say I wasn’t exactly sure what I was going to do beyond finding a job after graduation. In my parents’ mind, finding a job was not an option – it was a plan. Like many of the parents here today, they were like corporate investors seeking a return on their investment.

But today is about you, the graduates, so I hope that my personal story and lessons that I’ve learned will offer you hope in the days ahead as you embark on your new journey.

The author T. Alan Armstrong said, “Champions do not become champions when they win the event, but in the hours, weeks, months and years they spend preparing for it. The victorious performance itself is merely the demonstration of their championship character.”

Today’s graduation is “merely the demonstration of” your championship character. Whether you are a young graduate or a seasoned graduate who returned to school later in life, today we are celebrating that championship character in all of you.

You have spent hours, months and years to get to this victorious point in your life. As you put these days behind you, I hope that you will remember not just the classes you took but the lessons you have learned. College is about so much more than a career, a profession or a job. It is training for life. It is where many of us learned to play well with others, to step outside our comfort zones, to explore beyond our imaginations, and to peek inside ourselves to discover who we really are.

One of the lessons I wish I would have fully understood back then was the value of a quality education. I frankly took it for granted. But education is more than just grades and classrooms.  It is a practice run for real life and the challenges you are bound to face along the way.

The University of Connecticut’s Neag School of Education is the No. 1 public graduate school of education in the Northeast and on the East Coast. As future educators, that is a priceless gift America’s school children can ill afford for you to forget. Especially when you consider the following statistics.

• A high school dropout will earn about $260,000 less than high school graduates in their lifetime.
• High school dropouts have a life expectancy 9.2 years shorter than high school graduates.
• A one-year increase in average years of schooling for dropouts would reduce murder and assault rates by almost 30 percent, motor vehicle theft by 20 percent, arson by 13 percent, and burglary and larceny by about 6 percent.
• There will be a shortfall of 7 million college-educated workers in America by 2012.

The story behind the statistics is that educators are a critical component of improving the American educational system and increasing the chances of success for American students.

You have heard that my late husband, Korey Stringer, was an NFL Pro Bowler offensive lineman. But you may not know that I was a track and field athlete and I have a great appreciation for what sports teaches you about the human spirit.

PattiSue Plumer, a U.S. Olympian, was the first woman to beat one of Mary Decker’s distance running records during the 1980s. But she saw her share of setbacks, including a broken leg after being hit by a taxi in Japan, several bouts with pneumonia, food poisoning at the Seoul Olympics, and a dog bite at the 1991 World Championships.

But she once said something that, as a sprinter, I can appreciate. She said, “Racing teaches us to challenge ourselves. It teaches us to push beyond where we thought we could go. It helps us to find out what we are made of.”

My life could not have been more of a test of that spirit than when in 2001 I lost my husband to an exertional heat stroke during a Minnesota Vikings pre-season football practice. On that hot summer July day, he was practicing in scorching heat that pushed his body temperature to 108.8 degrees.

In track and field, you train for your next race by working on your timing, your endurance and your mental readiness. And then the whistle blows; and there I was paralyzed in the blocks, unable to take off, because this was a race that I was not prepared to run.

The day after Korey died, I was a 27-year-old widow and single parent of a 4-year-old son. I was devastated, as any young wife would have been. I struggled to come to grips with this unbearable loss. My parents raised my sister and I to be very independent and responsible courageous women. But I didn’t know how to do this. There was no training, no classes; there was nothing that had prepared me for this. My family and friends were supportive, but I internalized my grief so that I could get through the pain.

I tried to give myself permission to let Korey go. But there were expectations, commitments and other people who also cared and loved him. So I unconsciously assumed some of his traits and tried to be him for others by keeping his public commitments and filling in for him because I felt that is what people missed and quite frankly it kept him close to me. One of the most difficult things I had to do during that time was to work through my grief to get to my purpose.

I found strength in a song, in the quiet whisper of the wind, the giggle of my son’s laughter, the stillness of pending peace and the famous words of Michael Gartner: “Life is too short to wake up with regrets. So love the people who treat you right. Forget about the ones who don’t. Believe everything happens for a reason. If you get a second chance, grab it with both hands. If it changes your life, let it. Nobody said life would be easy, they just promised it would be worth it.”

So a year after his death, I continued to dissect how this could have happened. While there was nothing I could do to bring Korey back, I did not want another young wife or family to have to endure the relentless pain and eternal grief of losing someone whose death could have been prevented.

What I soon discovered was that heat-related deaths had more than doubled since 1975. And in 2001 alone, the families of the University of Florida freshman football player Eraste Autin and Indiana’s Clinton High School player Travis Stowers were grieving along with my family from the loss of their loved ones from sports-related heat stroke deaths. I struggled with how to deal with the high profile public sympathy for Korey when these two young men’s lives were just as important to their families as Korey’s was to mine.

I did not simply wake up one day and just decide that our son needed me to get it together so that we could begin the healing process. It was not that systematic or calculating. Like the healing process itself, I took little bitty steps. Korey had an incredibly giving spirit and philanthropic heart. He believed in making intimate connections with people that made a huge impact. He almost rejected the practice of outward giving and photo ops that applauded his generosity.

The deaths of Autin and Stowers were the final impetus for me to seriously begin formalizing the Korey Stringer Foundation. So the foundation was created with the help of people like Doug Casa, Jimmy Gould and others. Along w

ith our partnership with the National Football League, Gatorade and the University of Connecticut, Neag School of Education, the vision for the Korey Stringer Institute was realized.

The institute’s mission is both personal and absolute. It is to provide first-rate information, resources, assistance and advocacy for the prevention of sudden death in sport, especially as it relates to exertional heat stroke, which has a 100 percent survival rate when immediate cooling is initiated within 10 minutes of collapse.

Currently, exertional heat is among the top three reasons athletes die while playing sports. The goal of the Korey Stringer Institute is to raise awareness by teaching sports professionals and athletes how to avoid the conditions that lead to heat stroke and other heat-related illnesses, treat heat-related illnesses when they occur, and ultimately prevent all heat-related deaths.

I want to thank the institute staff and board advisors for their continuous and ongoing support and dedication to what has been a labor of love.

Finally, as you, the graduates prepare to meet the challenges that await you, I hope you won’t mind a few parting words.

As someone who became a public voice by default, I live by the mantra “tomorrow is not promised” — so here are a few lessons I’ve learned along the way.

• Be honest with yourself. Even the most perfectly laid plans can be derailed and it is at that time that you will come face to face with your true self. I should have been more honest with myself. I needed to grieve in my own way. When you are secure and grounded enough to be honest with yourself, you will also be honest with others.
• Don’t take yourself too seriously. I had to learn to recover my joy. Sometimes that comes with maturity or just being a parent. Children have a unique way of reminding you that you really aren’t that important.
• Seize the opportunity. If you are faced with making a difference in someone’s life, like the Nike slogan, JUST DO IT! That enormously tragic time in my life became an opportunity to help transform the lives of others. It was an opportunity I could not morally ignore.
• Challenge yourself. Force yourself to stretch beyond your boundaries and your limitations. As I unwillingly learned, sometimes you don’t know what you CAN DO until you HAVE TO.
• Be grateful. Find the time in your busy lives to be grateful. Say thank you every chance you get because it reminds the universe that you are blessed. Grace is a lifestyle.

And finally Run YOUR Race. As Olympian Carl Lewis said, “My thoughts before a big race are usually pretty simple. I tell myself: Get out of the blocks, run your race, stay relaxed. If you run your race, you’ll win.”

To the Class of 2011 — RUN YOUR RACE. GET OUT OF THE BLOCKS, RUN YOUR RACE AND IF YOU RUN YOUR RACE, YOU WILL WIN. CONGRATULATIONS TO THE CLASS OF 2011 AND THANK YOU!!!!!!

My Heat Stroke – Kirk Wolfe

The day…. April 10, 2011

I woke up at 5am ready to tackle my first triathlon.  I had traveled from Chicago down to Miami with a group of 8 buddies from my neighborhood to participate in the Nautica Miami Triathlon along South Beach.  We had signed up to compete in the Olympic distance flight - 1 mile swim, 25 mile bike, and 6 mile run.  Needless to say, this Sunday morning triathlon turned out to be much more eventful than I could ever have anticipated.    

While I don’t know the exact number, the heat index was high that day.  After making a short bike ride from our hotel to the triathlon set-up & transition area, it was clear it was going to be a hot and humid day.  Having trained all winter & spring in Chicago, I was clearly not acclimated to the heat and humidity.  My lack of attention to the conditions and the humidity, in particular, would turn out to be my first mistake.  

I brought my bike into the set-up area, found my assigned station for all my gear, started setting everything up, and began mentally preparing for the event.  Even though the air and water temperature were high enough to go without a wetsuit, I chose to wear the wetsuit I had recently purchased anyway.  More than anything, I wanted the “peace of mind” associated with the wet suit while doing my first open water ocean swim.  The wetsuit would make me fully buoyant and if I ever needed to rest during the swim, I could simply flip over on my back and float for a bit. Going into the triathlon, I knew my swim and bike were going to be weaker, relative to the run.  I had only been training for the swim and bike for a few months and have been running 10-15 miles a week since college.

The swim started at 6:56am ET.  The frenzy at the start of the race as the triathletes plunged into the water and worked to make the turn around the first buoy was both exhilarating and frightening.  After the spending several minutes in the water, it was comforting to have the pack of swimmers start to separate out a bit.  With that separation, it became clear this was not going to be an easy swim given the conditions.  The waves were powerful and it was going to be a grind to swim that mile.  The strength of the waves made it harder to breathe without taking an occasional gulp of salt water.  While the swim was more than I anticipated, I ended up finishing in a little over 40 minutes.  I took my time walking out of the water, peeling back the wet suit, showering off the salt water, and moving into the transition area to dump my wet suit and grab my bike.

After completing the swim, I was more than ready for the bike.  I had found during my preparation for the triathlon I enjoyed training on the bike much more than training for the swim.  So, I welcomed the idea of leaving the wet suit behind and jumping on the bike.  The ride itself went smoothly and I really enjoyed it.  It offered incredible views as we went up and over the primary causeways connecting Miami Beach and Miami.  At one point toward the end of the ride, I did glance down at my arm to see whether the sun was burning my arms.  While I did not see any signs of burning, I was focused on the wrong thing and did not pay attention to the fact I was not sweating heavily.  This would ultimately turn out to be a mistake.  By the time I had finished up on the bike, I was a little over 2 hours into the race and felt good knowing I would finish up with a run I was well conditioned to attack.  I had been consuming fluids throughout the bike ride, including before and after the transition, 2 bottles of water on my bike, and during the ride with water stations. 

As I took off on the run, I also felt fairly good about my ability to hit my goal to finish the race in less than 3 hours.  This goal could not have been any more arbitrary, but it had become my target as I trained.  I cranked up my intensity knowing my running muscles were ready relative to those that got me thru the swim and bike.  This increase in intensity would ultimately turn out to be a mistake.  While I continued to consume water and vitamin water at the water stations, since my muscles were feeling good, I did not slow down to walk thru the water stations.  As a result, I did not consume as much water as I could have or should have given the conditions.

I remember looking down at my watch, seeing I was tracking at 2 hours and 50 minutes, realizing the finish line was less than a mile away, and thinking I should have no problem beating my goal and finishing in less than 3 hours.  Shortly thereafter, I was turning thru one of the few bends on the running course and everything quickly became fuzzy.  The last thing I remember was slowing down and then crouching over to catch my breath.  One of my neighborhood buddies, Dan, was not too far behind me on the course and noticed I was having difficulty.  Fortunately, he stopped to check on me, realized I needed help, and took immediate action that proved critical in saving of my life.  Dan tracked down an EMT that had finished attending to another triathlete 50 yards down the course and brought him over to help me.  The EMT recognized the signs and took the initial steps to begin the process of cooling down my body. 

I was suffering from heat stroke and my temperature had elevated into dangerous territory reaching a height of 105.7 degrees.  The first 10-15 minutes of treatment for anyone suffering from heat stroke are the most critical.  The EMTs took all the appropriate steps including moving me into the shade, applying ice packs, and inserting an IV to pump fluids into my body.  Dan’s awareness and the rapid response of the EMTs saved my life.

Next thing I remember, I awoke in the Emergency Room and began screaming as the doctors took the necessary steps to keep me alive.  I was fortunate Dan and the Miami Beach EMTs were in the area when I crouched over on the course.  I was equally fortunate the hospital was just a 5-minute drive away and I had some highly competent ER doctors attending to my situation.  The doctors worked feverishly to stabilize my body on multiple fronts including increasing my blood pressure, reducing my heart rate, and getting my kidneys working again.  Without getting into all the details, the work done by the ER docs was equally important to saving my life.    
One of the side effects of heat stroke is hallucination.  As I started to stabilize in the ER and my brain started to function again, my mind started racing…. and hallucinating.  As I lay there in my ER bed recovering, I knew I was in Miami, 38 years

old, married with 3 kids, and lived in Illinois.  It took awhile, but I was able to communicate most of this information to the doctors in one-word blocks and with nods of the head.  At the same time, I was hallucinating I had been running the Miami marathon (not triathlon)and had been struck by a car or truck as I ran thru a downtown intersection.  The hallucination was so powerful I could (and can still) picture the intersection and the initial impact of the car with my body.  I even started thinking about how ridiculous it was the Miami police had failed so miserably to protect runners on the course.

It was absolutely agonizing to sit there alone with a hallucinating brain that was racing to make sense of the implications.  My hallucination had convinced me most of my bones must have been broken and there was a strong chance I would never walk again.  To make it worse, even though my brain was racing, I was not able to put 2 words together.  So, I began questioning whether I would ever be able to talk normally again. My thoughts immediately went to my wife and kids.  My relationship with them as a husband and father would be forever changed.  I thought about how I would never again be able to function on my own.  No more walking, talking, working, kicking the soccer ball with Grace, shooting hoops with Henry, dancing with Lily, and more.  It was not until I reached the ICU many hours later and my wife, Amy, had arrived at my bedside that my brain had recovered enough to reconcile what had actually happened.  A car had not hit me, I had suffered a heat stroke and I would fortunately have a chance at 100% recovery.  

I spent 5 days in the hospital in the initial stage of recovery from my heat stroke.  I had elevated CPK enzymes in my blood that, if not flushed and brought down to normal levels, could have caused renal failure.  The CPK enzyme is a protein released from the muscles and into the bloodstream during a workout.  After a normal workout, these enzymes elevate and the body naturally flushes them out.  The normal range for CPK enzymes in the blood is 100-200.  In my case, as a result of my muscles being so fried, my CPK levels were off the charts and, at one point, registered as high as 5,800.  After a massive diet of fluids and rest, my CPK returned to the normal range almost 2 weeks after suffering the heat stroke. 
As I have learned in researching heat stroke, I clearly checked all the key boxes that lead to heat stroke.  I was not acclimated to the Miami climate.  As a result, the high humidity took its toll.  Interestingly, from what I gathered from my buddies who spent time in the ER waiting room, most of the triathlon participants who suffered from heat stroke were also from northern states and likely also trained in vastly different conditions.  As well described by one of the leading researchers on heat stroke….

The primary factor predisposing people — especially those in shape — to heat illness, though, seems to be lack of acclimatization to the heat. “It’s much harder for the body to cope with heat if it’s not used to it,” Dr. Casa says. -http://well.blogs.nytimes.com/2009/07/29/how-to-avoid-heatstroke/

 

The increased intensity on my run also took its toll.  My already overheated body put more trained running muscles in motion and exerted more energy, 75% of which became body heat….
Scientists have a pretty clear picture of what happens inside these athletes as they exert themselves. They bake. Muscles in motion generate enormous amounts of energy, only about 25 percent of which is used in contractions. The other 75 percent or so becomes body heat. - http://well.blogs.nytimes.com/2009/07/29/how-to-avoid-heatstroke/

Among other things, I am determined to do my part to increase awareness regarding heat stroke – particularly for athletes participating in marathons and triathlons.  While I did the requisite amount of training for this event and felt well prepared to complete it, I was naïve regarding the impact the conditions and my resulting actions might have on my health and my life.  As a first step in increasing awareness, I want to get my story out there.

I feel blessed and lucky to be alive.  April 10, 2011 is a day I will never forget.  Without question, it was the most traumatic and terrifying of my life.  The impact of my near-death experience has yet to fully settle in.  I do know it immediately makes all the clichés very real – life is short, enjoy every day, stop and smell the roses, take nothing for granted, don’t sweat the small stuff, and more.  With each passing day and as I put distance between today and April 10, I become more determined to turn this experience into a positive and transformative one in my life.  

Enjoy every day!