My Story<\/h2>\n<\/div>![\"A](\"https:\/\/heartstrong.ca\/wp-content\/uploads\/2024\/06\/keithjconnelllg.png\" "\\"keith")
<\/span><\/div><\/div>I was young and in good shape; what did I have to worry about?<\/h2>\n<\/div>Throughout my life, I believed I was at low risk for heart problems. I thought I would be fine as long as I stayed relatively active and in shape. Even when my doctor expressed concerns about my high cholesterol, I dismissed them, convincing myself that I didn\u2019t want to live dependent on pills. Besides, who wants to think about their mortality when there\u2019s so much life to live? Balancing a full-time doctoral program with a full-time job took a toll on me. My once-active lifestyle was the first casualty, as I often lacked the energy to exercise after spending long hours in front of a computer. In the evenings, all I wanted to do was collapse in front of the TV, shut off my brain, and indulge in the comfort foods I craved\u2014pizza, wings, pasta, you name it.<\/p>\n<\/div><\/div><\/div><\/div><\/div>
![\"A](\"https:\/\/heartstrong.ca\/wp-content\/uploads\/2024\/09\/dinner.png\" "\\"dinner\\"")
<\/span><\/div><\/div>Life was good. I could eat what I wanted and worry about things later.<\/h2><\/h2><\/div>“What do you want for dinner?” That simple question from my wife was the start of a nightly struggle. She always ate well, adhering to a Mediterranean-style diet rich in whole foods, vegetables, and balanced meals. For a junk food addict like me, her question was a nightmare. My predictable answer was always “something easy,” which was code for pizza. To balance out the salt, I\u2019d eventually add ice cream for dessert. When she asked why I didn\u2019t want to eat healthier, I would inevitably argue that it was a quality-of-life issue: if I didn\u2019t enjoy eating, what was the point? After all, no one on their deathbed ever said, “I wish I didn’t eat that chocolate cake (unless that was WHY they were on their deathbed).<\/p>\n
Looking back, I can see how flawed that logic was. But at the time, it was easy to justify my choices. Life was busy, stressful, and exhausting. Cooking a healthy meal felt like just one more thing to add to my never-ending to-do list. I convinced myself that as long as I wasn\u2019t gaining too much weight and could still walk up a flight of stairs without huffing and puffing, I was fine.<\/p>\n<\/div><\/div><\/div><\/div><\/div>
![\"walkman](\"https:\/\/heartstrong.ca\/wp-content\/uploads\/2024\/07\/podcast.png\" "\\"podcast\\"")
<\/span><\/div><\/div><\/div>Listen to a discussion on the use of aspirin in a heart-attack.<\/h2>\n<\/div>
<\/span><\/div>I was young and in good shape; what did I have to worry about?<\/h2>\n<\/div>Throughout my life, I believed I was at low risk for heart problems. I thought I would be fine as long as I stayed relatively active and in shape. Even when my doctor expressed concerns about my high cholesterol, I dismissed them, convincing myself that I didn\u2019t want to live dependent on pills. Besides, who wants to think about their mortality when there\u2019s so much life to live? Balancing a full-time doctoral program with a full-time job took a toll on me. My once-active lifestyle was the first casualty, as I often lacked the energy to exercise after spending long hours in front of a computer. In the evenings, all I wanted to do was collapse in front of the TV, shut off my brain, and indulge in the comfort foods I craved\u2014pizza, wings, pasta, you name it.<\/p>\n<\/div><\/div><\/div><\/div><\/div>
<\/span><\/div><\/div>Life was good. I could eat what I wanted and worry about things later.<\/h2><\/h2><\/div>“What do you want for dinner?” That simple question from my wife was the start of a nightly struggle. She always ate well, adhering to a Mediterranean-style diet rich in whole foods, vegetables, and balanced meals. For a junk food addict like me, her question was a nightmare. My predictable answer was always “something easy,” which was code for pizza. To balance out the salt, I\u2019d eventually add ice cream for dessert. When she asked why I didn\u2019t want to eat healthier, I would inevitably argue that it was a quality-of-life issue: if I didn\u2019t enjoy eating, what was the point? After all, no one on their deathbed ever said, “I wish I didn’t eat that chocolate cake (unless that was WHY they were on their deathbed).<\/p>\n
Looking back, I can see how flawed that logic was. But at the time, it was easy to justify my choices. Life was busy, stressful, and exhausting. Cooking a healthy meal felt like just one more thing to add to my never-ending to-do list. I convinced myself that as long as I wasn\u2019t gaining too much weight and could still walk up a flight of stairs without huffing and puffing, I was fine.<\/p>\n<\/div><\/div><\/div><\/div><\/div>
<\/span><\/div><\/div><\/div>Listen to a discussion on the use of aspirin in a heart-attack.<\/h2>\n<\/div>
Throughout my life, I believed I was at low risk for heart problems. I thought I would be fine as long as I stayed relatively active and in shape. Even when my doctor expressed concerns about my high cholesterol, I dismissed them, convincing myself that I didn\u2019t want to live dependent on pills. Besides, who wants to think about their mortality when there\u2019s so much life to live? Balancing a full-time doctoral program with a full-time job took a toll on me. My once-active lifestyle was the first casualty, as I often lacked the energy to exercise after spending long hours in front of a computer. In the evenings, all I wanted to do was collapse in front of the TV, shut off my brain, and indulge in the comfort foods I craved\u2014pizza, wings, pasta, you name it.<\/p>\n<\/div><\/div><\/div><\/div><\/div>
<\/span><\/div>Life was good. I could eat what I wanted and worry about things later.<\/h2><\/h2><\/div>“What do you want for dinner?” That simple question from my wife was the start of a nightly struggle. She always ate well, adhering to a Mediterranean-style diet rich in whole foods, vegetables, and balanced meals. For a junk food addict like me, her question was a nightmare. My predictable answer was always “something easy,” which was code for pizza. To balance out the salt, I\u2019d eventually add ice cream for dessert. When she asked why I didn\u2019t want to eat healthier, I would inevitably argue that it was a quality-of-life issue: if I didn\u2019t enjoy eating, what was the point? After all, no one on their deathbed ever said, “I wish I didn’t eat that chocolate cake (unless that was WHY they were on their deathbed).<\/p>\n
Looking back, I can see how flawed that logic was. But at the time, it was easy to justify my choices. Life was busy, stressful, and exhausting. Cooking a healthy meal felt like just one more thing to add to my never-ending to-do list. I convinced myself that as long as I wasn\u2019t gaining too much weight and could still walk up a flight of stairs without huffing and puffing, I was fine.<\/p>\n<\/div><\/div><\/div><\/div><\/div>
<\/span><\/div><\/div><\/div>Listen to a discussion on the use of aspirin in a heart-attack.<\/h2>\n<\/div>
“What do you want for dinner?” That simple question from my wife was the start of a nightly struggle. She always ate well, adhering to a Mediterranean-style diet rich in whole foods, vegetables, and balanced meals. For a junk food addict like me, her question was a nightmare. My predictable answer was always “something easy,” which was code for pizza. To balance out the salt, I\u2019d eventually add ice cream for dessert. When she asked why I didn\u2019t want to eat healthier, I would inevitably argue that it was a quality-of-life issue: if I didn\u2019t enjoy eating, what was the point? After all, no one on their deathbed ever said, “I wish I didn’t eat that chocolate cake (unless that was WHY they were on their deathbed).<\/p>\n
Looking back, I can see how flawed that logic was. But at the time, it was easy to justify my choices. Life was busy, stressful, and exhausting. Cooking a healthy meal felt like just one more thing to add to my never-ending to-do list. I convinced myself that as long as I wasn\u2019t gaining too much weight and could still walk up a flight of stairs without huffing and puffing, I was fine.<\/p>\n<\/div><\/div><\/div><\/div><\/div>
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