The year was 2010. The date was October 10. It was the Portland Marathon, my first marathon. I had just crossed the finish line. And after more than 4 hours of alternating between sucking back GU gels and sipping a lemon-lime electrolyte drink, the last thing my belly wanted was food. The thought of a banana roiled my stomach. The thought of breads, pretzels, cookies, candy turned my face green. Pretty much anything presented on the post-marathon food table had feelings of retch creeping up into my esophagus. I grabbed a Greek yogurt cup; no joke it took me 3 hours to get it all down! How many of you have been in this situation? I’m betting quite a few. It’s a common one. The high consumption of fast-acting sugars during an endurance race, and the constant up and down force that our stomachs endure, especially in those long-distance runs …
hills, speed, lsd
There was once a time, long before I was happily set up with my Freestyle Libre, when I wouldn’t leave the house without a glucometer, finger pricker, lancets and test strips. And there was once a time I locked all that in my car just as I was about to embark on a 32 km training run – and my keys were locked in a building of which I had no access to.