Today is my first anniversary of having open heart surgery. It may seem odd to ‘celebrate’ such an occasion but many zippers do just that. A few even have the date tattooed on their body. Maybe it is something to do with having your chest cracked open and the surgeon poking round in your heart to ensure that you live a few more years.

I’m not sure whether the last year has gone faster or slower than the previous year. Certainly it has been a momentous year. Recovering from the surgery, getting back to full fitness, passing my Personal Training diploma and, of course, the death of my best friend who wasn’t so lucky to have something that could be fixed.

So what can I remember of this day a year ago. I was second on the theatre list. I was told that I would probably be taking down at about 11.30. But first I had to shower with some special stuff to disinfect my body. By 8am I was ready to roll. And there I laid until a trolley came to transfer me to the theatre table.

My journey there was fairly eventful. To get from the ward in the old part of the hospital to the theatre in the state of the art new bit I needed to be ‘trollied’ through the basement corridor. This was something out of Nightmare of Elm Street. I quite expected Freddie Kruger to jump out. But I had more important things to worry about unlike the agency nurse that was accompanying me who proceeded into a state of panic. I spent most of the journey trying to talk her down and reassuring her that she could return to the ward by another route.

Anyway her panic attack did distract me for a few minutes. But I then arrived in the theatre prep room. It is difficult to describe the fear I felt. I was catching glimpses of the activity in the theatre getting it ready for my operation. If I could I would have jumped off that trolley and taken my chances with Freddie. I was then being woken up in ITU with a tube down my throat, attached to a number of bleeping machines and other drains and tubes in my chest, arm and neck. But it was fine. I had survived the operation, I had a PCA in my hand and the ice cold water was the best thing I have ever drunk.

Yesterday, a year on, I completed a Tough Mudder Half. A great way to celebrate. I ran five

miles. Crawled through mud under barbed wire, scrambled through a tunnel into water, climbed walls and spent a lot of time in mud. I side stepped two obstacles. Too high, too far to fall, too likely to cause injury. I’d like to say it was due to being on Warfarin but I think I would have opted out even without the risk of hemorrhaging all over the place. But I done it. Something I thought was unlikely 6 weeks into my recovery when I thought the pain would never go away and I was unable to even push a supermarket trolley.

I was helped along the way with the great camaraderie of my fellow runners from RAW Inc a Training. What a great group of people!

So I have got through the first year. I feel good. Open heart surgery has changed me but I hope for the better. Here’s to my 2nd, 3rd, 10th and 20th anniversary.