Channeling Contador (sans tainted meat)

When I walked through the doors of the condo last night and Mario announced that he had spent some time on the trainer while I was out at pilates my heart sunk. I held my breath as I asked him how long he’d pedaled for with fear and apprehension filling my insides. “An episode of True Blood,” he said. “How long was that,” I asked. Silence. He had a smile on his face. He was enjoying this, enjoying the sight of my face turning a frightening reddish-blue shade. Just as I was about to pass out, he finally broke the silence. “Fifty one minutes,” he said. Phew! The loudest, longest sigh I ever did breathe exited my lungs with that glorious news of 51 minutes.

Now, don’t get me wrong, I was quite pleased to hear that he’d gone on the trainer, and on his own accord at that (he hates the trainer like I hate the dreadmill) but what I did not want to hear was him boast about achieving a marathon trainer session. I did not want him to tell me he’d pedaled for more than 60 minutes, not even one minute more, because than that would mean I’d have to go on for like an hour and a half. But I’m not competitive, oh no!

The last time I cycled the devil’s spawn, er I mean the trainer, I managed to fire off 60 minutes, which was quite the feat for me. I could have stuck to the 55 minute record I’d achieved the time previous as Mario hadn’t been on the trainer between my sessions, but I wanted to give myself a bit more of a competitive cushion. I wanted to make sure my dear husband did not surpass me. But in that moment of silence, which felt like an hour of silence, I grew weary that maybe I hadn’t given myself enough of a cushion. See, Mario had two episodes of True Blood to catch up on, and while I know he’s not a fan of the trainer, he does have a lot more experience pedaling for hours at a time and he doesn’t seem to have that whole self-diagnosed ADD thing getting in his way like I do, and so it really wasn’t that far fetched for me to think he’d be so evil as to ride through two straight episodes, two straight hours of pedaling. The horror! The horror!


  • 7:00 p.m. BG before: 6.6
  • Temp basal: -80 per cent an hour before, -100 per cent through the ride
  • Time: 62 minutes
  • 8:20 p.m. BG after 3.2

But I’m not competitive, oh no! 😉

Are you competitive?

I’ve been struggling trying to perfect my blood sugars on the trainer, as the only time I can go on it is pretty much right after I eat. I’ve been toying with temporary basals and not giving myself the full bolus dosage at dinner, and while tonight’s low didn’t show its ugly face until after the ride (the last two rides, they’ve gone low at about 45 minutes in) they still went low. Not yet perfect.

2 thoughts on “Channeling Contador (sans tainted meat)”

  1. Hmmmm funny how I never see that competitive side of you when we run…LOL
    great story and congrats on hanging on to your lead in the trainer wars 😀

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