Cody McKay – Heart Month Story

First off, tell us a little about yourself and how you first got into cycling.

My journey into cycling is a bit different from most. I didn’t grow up participating in endurance sports, I spent my youth coaching freestyle skiing. In 2009, my university’s cross-country running coach recruited me after noticing how often I hit the treadmill at the gym. Over time, I picked things up, especially on the track, and became a relatively competitive short- to middle-distance runner.

When I graduated, I ended up in Ottawa. Around that time, I began falling out of love with running. My experience was always highly structured: each run and race on my calendar was decided for me, and by the fall of 2014, I found myself uninspired.

I’d always been curious about road cycling but had no experience. In the spring of 2015, I saved up and bought my first road bike. I still remember picking it up from the shop and riding it home without any clue how to shift gears, having only ever used MTB triggers or twist shifters.

I think my downhill skiing and running background helped me pick up cycling fairly quickly. By 2016, I was dipping my toes into Ontario Cycling races, and by 2018, I was fully committed to competing at the highest amateur elite level.

As a young cyclist, you probably had some pretty lofty goals. What were your goals in the sport before being told of your condition?

I think it’s natural to dream big when you dedicate so much of your time to a sport, but I never saw cycling as a career path as I was already in my mid 20s.

My partner was a competitive racer, so a lot of our time together revolved around training, or traveling to races.

Ultimately, my goal was to race against some of the best in North America. I didn’t expect to win, but I wanted to prove I could hold my own.

In regard to your situation, what was the first thing that made you realize something wasn’t quite right?

As someone who came to the sport later in life, I always felt like I was playing catch-up. COVID, in a way, gave me an opportunity. Without a packed race calendar in 2020, I finally had time to focus on building volume. My partner and I would fill bar bags and jersey pockets with food and water, heading out for long days without any lengthy break for coffee or food in the middle. I saw massive improvements in my fitness that year, which carried into winter training.

That said, I was dealing with shortness of breath and congestion. At the time, I chalked it up to allergies or the carpets in our new home, or even the two kittens we’d adopted.

What did you do, and what were you diagnosed with?

By the spring of 2021, the shortness of breath became harder to ignore. Many interval sessions and high-intensity efforts were being cut short or resulting in disappointment. A chest X-ray ruled out a lung infection but revealed an anomaly with my heart leading to further tests which was when I realized something serious might be going on.

I was diagnosed with an ascending aortic aneurysm—a dangerous weakening and ballooning of the aorta, the largest blood vessel in the body. At first, I didn’t even know what an aneurysm was, apart from hearing the term casually. Googling the condition didn’t help—it quickly drove home how serious my situation was. Unlike a broken bone or a bruise, this wasn’t something that would heal over time. It had life-altering implications and could only really be “corrected” with open-heart surgery.

Getting the news you did must be pretty jarring. What was your initial reaction to hearing the diagnosis?

My first reaction was denial. Surely this was a mistake! And if it wasn’t, mine couldn’t be as bad as the stories I was reading. But soon after, I swung in the other direction.

While my aneurysm wasn’t large enough to require immediate surgery, it did necessitate major lifestyle changes: no heavy lifting (even groceries or household items), no intervals, racing, or activities that could spike my blood pressure. My life wasn’t in immediate danger, but I had to prepare for worst-case scenarios. It was easy to spiral into dark thoughts, wondering if I’d even make it to my 30th birthday—or if something as simple as rearranging furniture could be catastrophic.

Thankfully, my cardiologist saw the toll this was taking on my mental and physical health and proactively put me into cardiac rehab. Normally, rehab is reserved for those who’ve already undergone open-heart surgery, but I was able to start early.

Despite my condition, I was cleared to keep riding, as long as I stuck to a plan. Blood pressure management was the top priority. Using my extensive training history, my medical team established safe zones for me. Endurance rides were green-lit, and I leaned into that with confidence.

By 2022, I had regained much of the fitness I’d lost. I was riding full-time again, seeing friends, and enjoying life.

I think many can only imagine getting the news you did, especially at your age. Knowing that surgery was on the horizon at some point, what was your mindset about when to have the surgery done? Was there anything that triggered you to make the decision to have it when you did and what emotions were you feeling prior to having the surgery (vs say the original diagnosis)?

It was a mix of fear and determination. Open-heart surgery is terrifying, but an elective aneurysm repair is always better than an emergency one. Still, even an elective procedure carries serious risks—bleeding, stroke, heart attack, infection, and arrhythmia. That’s why surgery is typically only recommended once an aneurysm reaches a certain threshold; in many cases, medical management (lifestyle modifications) is actually less risky than surgery.

At the same time, I didn’t want to stay in what felt like an ‘aneurysm purgatory’ any longer than necessary. My aneurysm was at the size where surgery was already being considered, and I knew I’d need it within a few years. The risks of surgery wouldn’t change much, but the longer I waited, the greater the chance of a complication. That reality helped shape my decision.

Ultimately however, the choice wasn’t just mine—it was a collective decision with my medical team. I asked my cardiologist and surgeon whether post-op lifestyle restrictions were likely, and they felt they wouldn’t be, barring complications. That gave me hope that I could return to competitive cycling if I got the surgery over with. But if I waited and the decision was made for me, I knew my chances of racing again, let alone at the level I wanted, could be gone forever.


Having had the surgery in late 2022, what were the next steps? Can you take us through the rehab process, any advice you were given, or concerns you had?

My surgery was uneventful, with no complications. I spent about a week in the hospital—first in the ICU, then in a step-down ward. They get patients moving quickly after surgery: first just standing, then short walks, then a flight of stairs. Each time felt nearly impossible. In those first days, I dreaded it. The pain was constant, and any movement made it worse. Just standing up felt like I might pass out.

But things improved fast. By day five, I walked out of the University of Ottawa Heart Institute like I’d only been there for a check-up. There is a video of that walk, and it is honestly quite remarkable when you have that context.

I treated rehab like a full-time job. Since I was off work, I put all my energy into it. I slept as much as I needed, ate to promote recovery, and treated my rehab plan like it was the most important training block of my life. On paper, it was just a walking program—twice a day, starting at 10 minutes and gradually increasing in time and pace. But in practice, it was no small task. I progressed way ahead of schedule, quickly walking 5 to even 15 km in one go. One day, I walked 8-9 km downtown, stopped at a favorite coffee shop, and walked home—a café ride, but on foot.

At six weeks, I had a check-up to assess my sternum. At that appointment, I got the green light to start riding gently on the trainer. From open-heart surgery to Zwift in six weeks—I was shocked.

From there, I rode nearly every day at the same intensity as my walks. At three months, I had a CPET (cardiopulmonary exercise test)—essentially a ramp test—on a stationary bike, measuring power, oxygen consumption, the electrical activity of the heart, blood pressure, and more. I pushed to exhaustion, and was told I passed with flying colors.

Eight weeks later, the Ottawa race calendar opened, and I jumped in.

After your surgery, you also started sharing your story publicly with the world. What made you want to do that?

I really struggled in the time between my diagnosis and surgery. There’s plenty of literature on how open-heart surgery has become safer and less complicated, but most studies focus on older patients. They don’t answer the questions I had—what were these patients’ lives like before? Did they return to their passions? The focus was mostly on mortality and morbidity, not the nuances of daily hobbies and passions.

I also realized I wasn’t as alone as I thought. When you widen the scope beyond aneurysms to other heart conditions, you find so many people walking a similar path. Regardless of the specific diagnosis, we all felt the same way: disconnected from who we once were and unsure of what the future held.

I desperately wanted to hear firsthand experiences to reassure me on my own journey. Since I couldn’t find many, I decided to share my story in hopes of offering that comfort to someone else. If I could do that, I knew I’d have made a positive impact.


What was the reaction you got from people?

I never expected it to snowball the way it did. At this point, I’ve connected with well over 100 heart patients around the world.

For some, it was simply about hope—seeing someone “like them” still chasing their dreams, proving they didn’t have to be defined by their diagnosis. For others, it was much more raw and emotional. I’ve connected with people in the early days of their diagnosis, when they just needed to share their grief with someone who truly understands what it feels like.


In 2024, you started Project Heart. Can you tell us a bit about that?

The year I returned to cycling, I kept seeing more stories about professional cyclists being forced to retire due to cardiac complications—or worse, suffering life-threatening, and in some cases, fatal cardiac events. It made me wonder: if these things can happen at the highest level, where proactive measures are in place, what does that mean for the rest of us? I realized we all have more to learn about our hearts—how they work, what can go wrong, and how to protect ourselves.

That, combined with my ongoing connections with heart patients, made me see a natural next step. I wanted to use cycling as a platform for something bigger than just my competitive aspirations.

Project Heart started as a way to define that mission. I registered it as a team with Ontario Cycling and built a privateer structure around it. That being said though, I am happy to announce that it is an officially recognized not-for-profit organization in Ontario.

I don’t see Project Heart replacing my full-time work, but I do think it’s important to give back to the community. For me, that means taking an entrepreneurial approach—building my own way to contribute. It’s been a refreshing challenge and a huge source of motivation.

Cody, I want to thank you for your willingness to share your story. One final question – What advice would you personally give to those who may be dealing with a similar situation (or other health related situation) in their life? Any words of encouragement?

My biggest piece of advice is to not let your diagnosis define you. My story isn’t about a “happy ending” just because I had open heart surgery and returned to racing my bike. I don’t want to give the impression that anything less is a tragic outcome, because many people live with or are medically managed for one form of heart condition or another.

I lived with the aneurysm for 1.5 years. In 2022, with the guidance of my medical team, I returned to cycling and pushed past the fear and uncertainty that held me back. In 11 months, I rode the same volume I would in a typical training year. The bike, became a way to connect with friends, discover new places, and appreciate the beauty around me. Honestly, if my story had ended there, with me still being medically managed, I’d still consider it a win.

Don’t let your diagnosis define you. You may not live the life you envisioned, but you still have the power to shape it.

For more information about Project Heart:

 www.project-heart.ca 

 Instagram: @cardiac_cody.

On Zwift? Join the Project Heart Community Club—there are group rides every Sunday at 11 AM EST throughout Heart Month.

Photo 1 & 4: Jake Wagner

Photo 2 & 3: Wassim Farah