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My heart and I, we’re doing all right, but my shoe closet and I, we’re having some serious issues. So you may recall the other day when I posted how I was pushing 195 beats per minute conquering that mother of a hill, and how I was somewhat concerned given that my max heart rate is 188 bpm (I think), but Mark Cavendish has since eased my fears. For those of you who don’t know who Mark Cavendish is, he’s the self-proclaimed fastest cyclist alive and arguably the cockiest one alive too – which is definitely one of the top reasons why I do so love the guy! Case in point: I’ve just started reading his book Boy Racer, My Journey to Tour de France Record-Breaker and in typical Mark Cavendish style, he starts out on a brilliantly arrogant note: “Brian, I need you to do me a favor. I need […]

How do you celebrate your birthday? Do you have a party? tear into your wrapped presents like they’re the first you’ve ever received? stuff your face full of birthday cake, birthday cupcakes, birthday cookies, or best yet birthday ice cream cake? Us runners, we run … along with a lot little bit of everything else too 😉 (Had to use the iPhone camera, forgot regular one at home) Happy birthday Sarge!!! TONIGHT’S HILLS: 5:50 p.m. BG before: 7.4 Temp basal: -20 per cent Distance: 4.32 km Average pace: 6:16 min/km Top pace: 3:48 min/km Average heart rate: 167 bpm Top heart rate: 194 bpm Time: 27:06 7 p.m. BG after: 3.0 (Yikes!) It was hills tonight and my favourite drill sergeant (yep that’s her new name after tonight’s torture) decided we’d switch things up a bit and do the route backwards. Why? “Because it’s my birthday!” she said. But at

Some girls have insecurities wearing a bikini, others with not wearing makeup, me, I’ve got serious issues showing off my non-perfect blood sugars! I think it all started when I was a kid and didn’t want my moms or my grandma or my aunt to give me a look of disappointment or criticize my often erratic peaks and valleys, and so I mastered the art of holding my glucometre in a way that their peering eyes couldn’t see the actual result, giving me the power to tell the truth or blatantly lie. You’d expect habits like these to fall by the wayside with age and maturity, right. Nope. Not for me. What was once a fear of disappointing others has since grown into a shame of not being BG perfect. We’ve all got our insecurities right? So the other day after completely failing with my blood sugars on Sunday’s long

Last week I went rock climbing, today I went tree climbing. I was a little concerned when I headed out for today’s 19 km run as that fall on the black ice on Friday left me with one gimped, super tight, throbbing thigh … seriously, if you’d seen me walking down the stairs the last two days, you either would have burst out laughing at the 10 minute excursion or cringed feeling my pain. All day yesterday I tried to loosen it up, I iced it multiple times a day, had hot baths, massaged it on the foam roller, went on the trainer for a light 30-minute spin, and while it all helped, my walk was still seriously messed up. But quitting on today’s run was not an option. TODAY’S RUN: 8 a.m. BG before: 7.5 (granola bar, no bolus = big mistake!) Temp. basal: -50 per cent (set an

Oh my poor derriere! I had a bone scan on my ankle at the hospital this morning and had to be there for 8 a.m. So, with 10 minutes to spare, I parked my car and walked towards the entrance, when all of a sudden, out of nowhere, I found myself, butt planted on the cement, toes (in my cute little cowboy boots) scrunched and bent and screaming in pain, hand scraped and an angry red. Damn you black ice!!! And of course it happened on the side that’s already mad at me, the side that’s the reason for the bone scan in the first place. But no skin was broken and as far as I can tell, beyond a slight bruise in an area I don’t care to photograph, no bones were broken either … I suppose a hospital is probably the best place for a butt plant, but