Today marks the 21st anniversary of my triple coronary bypass surgery. Twenty-one years ago, I was a very different person. I was seriously overweight, in poor health, and I wasn’t paying attention to my diet, my health, or my well-being. Then, at 51, I had a heart attack.
Seventeen days in the hospital, including 10 days in the cardiac ICU and a triple bypass later, I was given something I didn’t understand at the time: the gift of a new life.
That heart attack was a wake-up call. It didn’t magically change me overnight. Change took time. Three years later, I had bariatric surgery and lost one hundred pounds. I was well on my way to reclaim my health and my life.
Rediscovering the Bicycle
As a kid, I discovered the world around me from the seat of my bicycle. My Huffy carried me to places that would have frightened my mother, if only she had known. Looking back, those childhood explorations marked the beginning of a life questioning boundaries and searching for what lay beyond the familiar. On the bicycle, I discovered life.
On the bicycle, I discovered life.
Fast forward to 2005, I had no idea that a bicycle would make a return appearance in my life. Once again, it was to be the path to discovering life. Four years after cardiac surgery, I pulled down my dusty, unused Sears Roebuck mountain bike from the garage ceiling and headed for a ride on the Ohio and Erie Canal Towpath Trail.
I returned to the trail and other trails several times a week. Cycling became a habit. Each ride made me want to ride more and go farther. That curiosity and an invitation from a cycling friend led me to a weeklong bicycle tour in 2011. As the days and miles passed under my tires, I found something I wanted to be part of my life.
Cycling the Great Allegheny Passage and C&O Canal Trail, I had no idea where cycling would take me in the years to come. Perhaps that is one of life’s great lessons: we don’t know where the road, or in this case, the trail, will lead. We can only choose the direction we want to go.
We don’t know where the road, or in this case, the trail, will lead. We can only choose the direction we want to go.
Life is Unpredictable
Some things happen to us that we never planned for and certainly never expected. At times, we’re forced to stop. Other times, we have to change direction. Often, the road we thought we were traveling disappears.
I’ve learned through life that taking a detour isn’t the same as being lost. For me, the important thing has been to keep moving forward when detoured, faced with the uncertain and unknown.
Bicycles opened doors throughout my life I never knew existed. It led me to new places, experiences, and, most importantly, people. In 2010, I helped start a bicycle meetup group that grew into a community that shared my enthusiasm for staying active, exploring the outdoors, and riding trails.
Community matters. When you surround yourself with people who encourage the person you are becoming, it becomes easier to keep becoming that person.
When you surround yourself with people who encourage the person you are becoming, it becomes easier to keep becoming that person.
One Change Leads to Another
My passion for cycling eventually led me into leadership. I never imagined that one day I would write about trails, cycling, and the new life I discovered through both. Certainly, nowhere in life’s plan did I see myself becoming president of the Ohio to Erie Trail.
Yet here I am. Perhaps part of my purpose is not only to keep discovering what’s possible in my own life, but to help others discover new lives, new purposes, and new possibilities.
I never imagined that at 72, I’d be riding the Great Allegheny Passage, thinking about how much has changed in the 21 years since my heart attack, and looking forward to another day on my bicycle.
I never imagined riding hundreds of miles through the Alleghenies of Pennsylvania and Maryland. It was never part of the plan. That’s the point. Life is unpredictable and surprising, shaped more by the present and not by the past.
Life is unpredictable and surprising, shaped more by the present and not by the past.
Life Rarely Goes as Planned
Sitting here surrounded by autumn’s beauty, I look back on the person I left behind in 2005 and who I have become. At 72, I know I have fewer years ahead than I did at 51.
I also understand what I did not then: life is not about knowing how many miles remain but making each one count. I don’t know where I will be 21 years from now, or whether I will be here. None of us does.
Life is not about knowing how many miles remain but making each one count.
I do know that I want to keep moving forward. There will be detours, times when I feel lost, and moments when I have to choose a new direction. But I’ll keep pedaling forward, wherever the road takes me.
On this anniversary, I am strangely grateful for those 17 days in the hospital in 2005. I would not wish the experience on anyone. But it was the wake-up call that changed how I saw life and set in motion the choices that led me here.
Those seventeen painful days brought me here, to a bicycle, a trail, and a life still moving forward.
Reclaiming life is not about returning to who you were before things went wrong. It is about accepting what happened, challenging yourself to change what you can, and discovering where a new road may lead.
Never Too Late to Change Direction
It's never too late to find a new passion, embrace the unknown, and set off on a new adventure. Sometimes, the road you never planned to take leads to the life you were meant to live.
Today, 21 years after my heart attack and triple bypass, I am 130 pounds lighter, healthier, happier, and seeing life differently. I will do what I have learned to do: get back on the bike and keep moving forward.
Sometimes, the road you never planned to take leads to the life you were meant to live.
Happy trails!
Tom on the Trails
A Note from Tom
I share these reflections because I believe life is worth living, even when it takes an unexpected turn. Sometimes reclaiming our lives means making a change, finding a new direction, and simply getting back on the bicycle.
If you are in a difficult place right now, I hope my story reminds you that your next chapter may still be waiting to be written.