Sometimes, you really do need to step out of your comfort zone.
It’s not easy, and I always go into it kicking and screaming, but upon completion I’m generally pretty darn thrilled by the accomplishment.
Take Burnaby Mountain for example.
This mountain is a common route for local cyclists wanting to get a good climb in their legs. It’s anywhere from 15-25 minutes of continuous climbing, with 568 metres elevation and grades that get as high as 13.4%.
I had never cycled this mountain, and I had no desires to.
Yet, for about 4 months my Saturday cycling friend had repeatedly tried getting me to ride it with her.
She told me it was no big deal. The ride in total would be an hour and half. And the climbing was more mental fortitude than leg power.
You just got to put your head down and pedal, she said.
I wasn’t buying it.
I’ve heard cycling tales and cycling woes of Burnaby Mountain.
My husband’s been climbing it for years; one year he did it multiple times in one go. He’s never once talked about the ease of this mountain.
I can foot climb mountains and I can run hills like no one’s business, but on a bike, I am not much of a climber.
I feared that mountain.
I feared the steepness.
I feared the sloth of my legs.
I feared I wouldn’t be able to do it.
Pretty much, that’s what my repeated no’s came down to.
But then, Saturday.
It was the day of my son’s 7th birthday bash and I had limited time.
When my cycling friend suggested we brave Burnaby Mountain, given its short time frame, I had all the excuses:
I’ve got so much to do for the party still.
I’ve got to set up the party.
I’ve got to hang the pinata and chalk out activity directions.
I’ll need a shower.
The day’s already going to be super high stress as it is, I can’t possibly duck out for 1.5 hours.
I won’t have enough time.
But really, you guys know I was just a whole lotta scared, right.
But the thing is, I don’t like to be scared, and I sure as heck don’t like knowing I’m scared, and thinking that others think I’m scared.
So really, there was only one way to rectify the situation:
Do the ride and see what happens.
The climb took me about 20-25 minutes to complete. And I was slow, there is no doubt about that, but my legs didn’t stop pedalling – not even when my sunglasses were blinded by the rain shower we got caught in.
In fact, I think I could have even pushed myself faster.
When we crested the mountain, I had the BIGGEST smile on my face.
I did it!
And by golly I’m gonna do it again – because I can.
Lesson learned: don’t underestimate my awesomeness 😀
On the diabetes front:
I woke up with low blood sugars 2.5 hours before I was to head out. I corrected them and had my usual steel cut oatmeal breakfast with a full bolus. However, by the time I was to leave, my BG had rocketed up to 12.1 mmol/L.
Bloody freaking hell!
I still inputed a temp. basal of -50% because I knew they would drop with the cycling. At the top of the mountain, they were sitting at 6.3 mmol/L. I had a half PB and honey sandwich (approximately 20g carbs) and zoomed back down the mountain. By the time I got home, my BG was 4.1 mmol/L.
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