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Phew. The fine-toothed comb and magnifying glass showed no signs of impetigo, or swimmer’s itch, or athlete’s foot, but my gawd, I spent a good 40 minutes freaking out about such nasty infectious germs crawling all over me and my body. Today. After work. I went aqua jogging. In the pool. The public pool. Have I mentioned that I have a bit of a, uhm, fear of germs? And did you know that pools are a cesspool of germs? Yes, yes, they use chlorine to combat the germs, I know that, but is it really enough when you’ve got kids peeing (oh they so do) and the other in them? I’m a little dubious. Especially when I’m facing the likes of crypto, a germ that causes diarrhea and that can survive for days even in properly chlorinated pools, and Athlete’s Foot which you can’t see, but it’s so crawling all […]

So. I’ve got stress fractures – note the ‘s’ in that sentence. When my phone rang yesterday morning at 7:30 a.m. I didn’t recognize the number and because I was running late, I didn’t think twice to let it go to voicemail. It wasn’t until 10 minutes later, when I was in the car park, that I checked the message. And the second I heard the voice of my doctor’s secretary, I knew something was wrong. Remember that blue stuff injected in me a couple of weeks ago? The results were in. It took everything I had to call his office, I didn’t want to know the truth, I’m happy living in a world of ignorance and denial really. My doctor came on the line right away and there was no beating around the bush: “You’ve got stress fractures all through both ankles and one shin,” he said. So what

I think I may have finally figured out a math equation, and it maybe one of the most important math equations of my life to date, well my running life that is: Sunday breakfast + bolus – basal + long slow distance run = perfect BG! I’ve somewhat been following the words of Pumping Insulin’s chapter on exercise. I say somewhat because a) it’s kind of confusing as they only list advice for people who are 100, 150 or 200 pounds, none of which I fall into which requires even more mathematical equations and b) because I just don’t agree with everything it suggests I do with my body. So here’s the equation I used: (total carbs) – (hours of exercise) + (additional carbs required) = (bolus) My Sunday breakfast consisted of 71 grams of carbs, and I was to be on the road for at least two hours: 71g

Once upon a time in a land far, far away (well actually, not that far, just 45 minutes away) a princess woke with a start in her towering loft, which was located on the north end of the Forest of Running Shoes. The clock sitting on her nightstand, which was made from a stack of running shoes, screamed at her to get up. It’s 6 a.m., he barked. The princess  rubbed her eyes, looked at her insulin pump, which told her in a soothing voice, the clock was mistaken, it was in fact only 5 a.m., she could still sleep another hour. But that damn clock, he mockingly laughed. “Daylight Savings! Daylight Savings! Daylight Savings! Mwahahahaaaa!” The princess grudgingly pulled herself up from the bed, stomped to the shower room, looked in the mirror and nearly screamed herself. There was no botox-glowing Cinderella, no collagen-lipped Jasmine, no porcelain-perfect Snow White.

Princess-3. Kitchen-0. I’m not scared of the kitchen, oh no. Tonight’s dinner brings my cooking tally up to a whopping three for the year, that’s like 50 per cent more than last year! And, there wasn’t even one curse word, not one, there may have been an ouch! when the knife grazed my thumb, but that’s no big deal, nope not all… Mario and I headed over to Granville Island this afternoon to pick up a few items for dinner. For those of you who don’t live in the Vancouver area, Granville Island is like the West Coast version of the Rue Mouffetard. Located along the Seawall, it consists of a farmer’s market, shops, theatres, artist studios, music and more. And it is amazing. It doesn’t matter how many times I’ve been there (and I have been a lot) I find something new, I get taken in by the colours,