Running

hills, speed, lsd

Plan B

Running, Uncategorized

I didn’t puke, but oh man, I thought for sure I’d pee my pants. Yesterday morning I discovered I was going up in a plane for work; a fast-paced, high-flying, stomach-stuck-in-your-throat aerobatic plane. And while I love roller-coasters, no roller-coaster I have ever been on has outlined a Plan B – involving a parachute no less! – prior to boarding “in case of catastrophe!” The pilot, Super Dave, (seriously, he had to pick that name? I’m already freaking out and now I’m thinking of Super Dave Osborne’s many failed stunts) kept trying to tell me how to work the parachute, telling me it was important to look at the lever before pulling, and I kept saying “But we’re not going to have to use that right? Right?” Note to self: next time I fly, don’t wear a skirt … in my defense, I did not know when I dressed that […]

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What NOT to do

Diabetes, Running

First the pool, now cement. Oh man, my insulin pumping system hates me! A few months ago I discovered my insulin pump wasn’t actually waterproof (as was advertised by Animas) after submerging it into a pool for an hour. On Sunday, I discovered my blood glucose monitor, which connects to the pump, isn’t made of titanium, nor does it have an invisible protective shield around it. Seriously, some one should get on that. Mario and I had just finished dinner out on the patio and after lingering in the dwindling sun for a awhile, we begrudgingly started to pack up. Mario grabbed his dinner plate and I think maybe a side plate, but me being the efficient packer upper that I am (or just lazy) I stacked three plates for one hand, two glasses in the other hand, with cutlery inside the glasses, and then I grabbed my glucometre and

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Damage done

Running, Training

Why is it when you get a paper cut, stinging lemon juice instantly finds its way inside? Or when you have a cavity, your tongue is constantly drawn to the aching decay? Or when you smoke yourself in the ankle so hard you draw blood, your shoed foot continues to do so until you’re belaboured with a nasty ass stress fracture? On Sunday, that oh-so-glorious run day, I did just that. Smoked my ankle. And oh man did it smart. For like half a minute I swear it felt as though a boulder had smashed down on it! But I refused to stop running. I wasn’t a baby, I was going to keep on going, wincing and all. Well, that first collision resulted in two more collisions, each more painful than the first. It wasn’t until I ended my run that I dare I looked at the damage done. It

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Music is magic

Diabetes, Running

It should have been Red Red Wine blasting through my earbuds yesterday morning (ahem) given how awesome my run was and given I had shared a bottle of Shiraz with a girlfriend the night prior – lending further claim to my theory that red wine the evening before a long run/race is just as beneficial as pasta, maybe even more. Does your pasta have heart-healthy antioxidants loaded inside? I don’t think so 😀 YESTERDAY’S RUN: 12 p.m. BG before: 8.1 Temp. basal: -50 per cent (3 hours) Distance: 15 km Average pace: 6:23 min/km Time: 1:35:49 Fuel: 1.5 scoops of Perpetuem (No belly issues!) @3km: 6.8, @11 km: 7.1 2 p.m. BG after: 9.0 Temp. basal: +50 per cent (1.5 hours) So it was a bit of a late start to the run. I had planned on being out the door no later than 10 a.m., but unfortunately the wine

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The butt chronicles

Running, Training

Monday could have been a bad day, it had all the elements of being a super rotten day. After a restless night of tossing and turning, I woke up and before even moving, knew the pain in my butt had not gone away. In fact, it had intensified. Mario and I had planned on going for a ride that morning, but after more than an hour of icing it, rolling on the foam roller, lying on a tennis ball, and having two hot baths, I made the executive decision that my butt needed a day off from all exercise. And I was miserable, completely miserable. But an afternoon of walking along the beach in Steveston and filling up on frutti di bosco and sour apple sorbetto, my mood was lifted. Yep, my husband knows the way to my heart 😀 Dreaming of sorbetto… You know who else knows the way

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