What strength actually looks like on the other side of a heart attack
Before a heart attack, strength is simple. It’s what your body can lift, carry, and get through in a day. After one, that definition falls apart completely — and what replaces it is something nobody warns you about. This is what I found on the other side.
Stronger After The Storm podcast logo in navy blue with white text and a red cracked heart with a pulseline running through.
Watch on YouTube
This episode is also available on YouTube if you prefer to watch there.
What Strength Used to Mean
Before my heart attack, strength meant one thing. It was physical, and it was everything.
In the woods, swinging chainsaws, wrestling trees down to the ground. In the kitchens and hotels, lifting big heavy pots of potatoes and soup. In the cellar, throwing full beer kegs around, stacking them without a second thought.
I never thought too much about it. I just got on with it. Strength was what I needed to carry on and provide.
When It Felt Gone
After the heart attack, that changed instantly.
Getting home from hospital, sitting there with thoughts racing — what are my limitations now? Will I ever be able to do anything I did before?
All my thoughts turned inward, onto this weak, fragile heart. I thought I’d never get back to work. Never get that strength back. For the first time I really had to think about what strength actually meant — and the fear set in fast.
If you’re in that stage right now, the 7-Day Mind Reset Plan came directly out of that exact period — when my thoughts were running riot in my head.
The Cardiac Physio That Changed Everything
After about a month of getting used to the new routine — meds, short walks, resting in the afternoons — I got a letter inviting me to cardiac physiotherapy rehabilitation at the local hospital.
There were ten or twelve of us in the room. I was the youngest — only 50. The rest were 70s, 80s — what I’d imagined people were when they had heart attacks.
The physiotherapists explained the heart is a muscle, needing exercise the same as any other muscle in your body, to be strong enough to pump blood around everything else. You can look at your arms and gauge your strength. You never look inside at your heart the same way.
We did gentle stretching, some standing to get the heart rate up, then a circuit — rowing machines, dumbbells, running machines. Clinical, but amazing what we were actually put through.
After that first session my heart was pounding, I was hot and sweaty — but I was in a safe environment. That gave me real confidence. So much so I couldn’t wait to get back the following week.
I carried on for six or eight weeks, doing home exercises alongside it, walking further, feeling myself getting stronger. Confidence was the big thing that came out of it.
Deciding to Run Again
After finishing the programme, my thoughts turned to running. I’d always been a keen runner before — a few half marathons — and always had it in the back of my mind that I wanted to do a full marathon.
Running on your own after a heart attack is hard to get your head around. I’d always advise contacting your local cardiac team before starting anything — don’t go it alone. The NHS and the British Heart Foundation both offer clear guidance on returning to exercise safely after a cardiac event, and the American Heart Association has similar advice for readers outside the UK.
I went to my doctor and asked him straight — is this crazy? He gave me a proper talking to. Do it properly. Get a professional plan. Take it slowly. Monitor yourself all the way. And if something’s not right, your body will tell you first.
So I started the plan. Week one, very slow. Building up mile after mile after mile.
I used to go out early on Sunday mornings, this three mile stretch with an incline mid-run. Climbing it, heart pounding, focusing right in on my breath. Reaching the top plateau just outside town, thinking — how many people are lying in their beds after Saturday night, and here I am, pounding the tarmac, getting stronger all the way.
Crossing the Line
When I crossed that finish line after 26 miles, I felt like Goliath.
Looking back — from the blue light run to the hospital the night of the heart attack, to those 26.2 miles on my own terms, two and a half years later — that felt really special. I’ll never forget it. It set the precedent for everything that came after.
What Strength Looks Like Now
I’m back in forestry now. Swinging the chainsaw, wrestling trees, still lifting heavy things, still exerting myself.
But strength is different now. I’m far more aware of everything I do. I listen to my body. I focus inward, on my breath. That’s completely different from before.
I have the strength now to recognise my weaknesses and accept them — to work closely with my limitations rather than ignore them, always with one ear on my heart, whatever I’m doing.
Strength has given me the confidence and the courage to be honest with myself about all of that. Before my heart attack I never gave things a second thought — just went and did it, no consideration of consequence. Now, strength means something else entirely.
Listen and Watch
You can listen to this episode in the player above or watch on YouTube if you prefer.
If you’re in the early stages, the very first episode I ever recorded might help:
👉 Living With Fear and Anxiety After a Heart Attack
If limitations and boundaries are something you’re working through right now:
👉 Understanding Limitations
Final Thought
If you’ve noticed your own idea of strength has changed since your heart attack — if you’re more aware, more focused, more honest with yourself than you used to be — I’d genuinely like to hear about it. Drop a comment below.
And if this landed with you, share it with someone who might need to hear it too. Sometimes just talking about your limitations with someone else is what helps most.
If the head noise is still there in the background: