Running

hills, speed, lsd

Rub a dub dub, no pump in the tub

Diabetes, Running

After more than a month of go-go-go, early mornings, late nights, jam-packed days, my mind and body are physically and mentally exhausted. The state of my mind right now: I do not want to stare into a computer screen, I do not want to tap away at a keyboard, I do not want to answer the phone, I do not want to decipher my chicken scratch. The entire drive home I had visions of vegging on my couch, watching PVR’d episodes of How I Met Your Mother and The New Girl with Zooey Deschanel (LOVE!). That was going to be my evening. That is, until Mario suggested a run. I wasn’t sure how the run would go given that I was up until 1:30 a.m. last night, meaning I only had 4.5 hours of sleep, and was seriously like The Walking Dead today. But because I haven’t done much aside […]

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Experiment. Day 2.

Diabetes, Running

Diabetes pic a post #2: Waking up with a morning low is NOT a good way to start the day. (The blur could be the result of low lighting or my spastically shaky hands, which is a common low BG symptom.) For a girl who doesn’t like change, I’m sure doing a lot of it lately. For almost two years my belly has been the go-to locale for my infusion sites, and for the 22 years prior to that, it was the number 1 spot for my injection sites. That’s not a good thing. Skin tissue that is repeatedly poked and prodded and injected full of stuff in the same spot builds up scar tissue which if you build up enough can pretty much deform your body. But here’s the deal, I’ve got a buddha belly, always have, and it is a prime spot for finding a good wad of

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Halloween humbug

Diabetes, Running

Ahh, Halloween, the bane of my existence … or at least it used to be. It’s days like today that had me cursing my disease or just all out rebelling against it. I don’t know which gods were in charge of diagnosing me with T-1, and I don’t know how the hell I managed to piss them off so increduously, but I’m thinking it was pretty darn nasty of them to diagnose me at 9 years old – to give me 9 bloody years, 5 of which I could clearly remember eating sweets, before putting a lock with no key on my beloved candy store. Before diabetes, I loved sugar, oh man, did I ever. Hot lips, jujubes, pop rocks, tootsie rolls, strawberry bon bons, banana marshmallows, lifesavers, fizz, fun dip, pixie sticks, nibs, sweetarts, green apple lollipops, and don’t even get me started on chocolate bars. Oh Henry, oh yes

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Ch…ch…ch…changes

Running, Training

Change can’t all be bad, right? (says the girl who does NOT adapt well to change at all) I mean the changing of seasons, especially from summer to fall is gorgeous, and going from a single girl to a married girl, that was kind of fun, and after years of letting Type 1 control me, finally taking the bastard by the horns and kicking it in the ass over and over again, that’s kind of … exhilarating, really. Changing of the seasons in Berlin 2010 And yet, I am a girl who more times than not does not like change. I like things a certain way, I like routine, I like to know what’s coming at me at all times. (Just look at my lunch. Five days a week, I eat a ham and cheese sandwich, with an apple and yogurt. On the weekend, every weekend, without fail, I eat

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The hangover

Races, Running, Training

What now? It’s been a week and a half since I last ran, which really isn’t that long at all, and yet, I feel kind of lost, like I have an emptiness in my belly… or legs, I should say. I see Facebook posts of girlfriends preparing for their next running adventures, I read blogs all about running, and magazines all about running, but I’m not running. I don’t have a plan and I planned it that way. I’ve been training almost non-stop now for more than two years (aside from a couple months where I was recovering from injury) and I’ve felt for quite some time that I’ve needed a break from training. So, while my favourite running chicks were planning this run and that run, I purposely stayed quiet, I was not going to jump into anything new. I wanted a break and by golly I was going

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