“Survival was the beginning. Living afterwards is the beginning”

“Survival was the beginning. Living afterward is the challenge.”

That statement carries more weight than most people realize.

Making it back often feels like the easy part.

Living afterward—under new rules—is where the real work begins.

Before everything changed, I never once thought my heart would stop. Not as an athlete. Not with the way I lived, trained, and pushed my body. We condition our muscles. We train our skills. We focus on performance. But rarely do we think about building what’s inside—our heart, lungs, liver, kidneys. The systems that actually keep us alive.

Then something happens that forces a question you never expected to ask:

Why me?

You start looking around and noticing people who live completely different lifestyles—less active, less disciplined—and they seem fine. Meanwhile, you’re the one who goes down with cardiac arrest. That comparison doesn’t come from bitterness. It comes from confusion. From trying to make sense of something that doesn’t add up.

During recovery, especially for the small percentage of us who make it back, there’s an assumption that the physical part will be the hardest. Walking again. Carrying groceries. Driving. Taking care of yourself. Regaining basic independence.

I thought that was going to be the real battle.

I was wrong.

The physical recovery turned out to be the easy part.

The mental side is the elephant in the room—one that doesn’t get talked about nearly enough.

Every part of life becomes layered with thought. Every unfamiliar feeling makes you pause. Every quiet moment carries the question: Could it happen again? That thought shows up during workouts, during rest, during normal daily routines. It doesn’t announce itself—it just lives there.

After survival, you’re forced to reconstruct every part of your life.

How you move.

How you think.

How you manage stress.

How you define strength.

Life doesn’t end—but it demands a different level of awareness.

This is Life After.

Not just surviving—but learning how to live again with intention, honesty, and respect for the body that carried you through

Published by pulse110924

My name is Michah Davenport, and P.U.L.S.E. was created from lived experience, not theory. As a former high-level basketball player, coach, and mentor, sports has always been the vehicle through which I teach discipline, accountability, and belief. I played the game at a high level, earned championships, competed internationally, and learned firsthand what it takes to prepare the body and mind to perform under pressure. But my greatest lesson didn’t come from basketball—it came from survival. After living with high blood pressure for over 20 years, I suffered a cardiac arrest that forced me to confront a truth many athletes ignore: performance means nothing without health, awareness, and purpose. That moment changed everything. P.U.L.S.E.—which stands for Purpose, Understanding, Leadership, Strength, and Education—was born out of that wake-up call. This program exists to help athletes, parents, and communities understand that true development goes beyond points, offers, and highlights. It’s about mental health, heart health, leadership, and life after the game. Through P.U.L.S.E., I combine: • Real-world athletic experience • Health and heart-awareness advocacy • Mental performance and life skills education • Mentorship for athletes on and off the court My mission is simple: help athletes recognize the warning signs, build strong foundations, and prepare for life—before, during, and after sports. P.U.L.S.E. isn’t just a program. It’s a movement to make sure the next generation doesn’t have to learn the hard way.

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