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Smurfette Part 2: The Bone Scan

Ohhhh, the déjà vu. 2011: I was training for my second marathon, and struggling with a sore ankle every time I ran. I spent months in physiotherapy with no relief. Dear Physio was getting frustrated; I was beyond frustrated. 2016: I haven’t run in 9 months. I’ve suffered horrid pain that’s become more a dull ache in my left foot for 12 months. I’ve spent thousands (note the plural) on physio, chiro, acupuncture, essential oils, and more with no relief. Frustrated. Desperate. Moody. Sad and envious as bloody hell. Both outcomes resulted in bone scans. In 2011, it turned out I had stress fractures in both ankles. In 2016, well, as I’m currently writing this post in the waiting area of nuclear medicine, I don’t yet know the results. What I do know: At 9 a.m. I was injected with a blue radioactive tracer containing phosphate and technetium. The phosphate […]

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Travelling with the diabetes beast

I should have written every blood sugar reading down. I should have noted my basal rates going in, and my basal rates leaving. I should have kept tabs on my insulin dosages every time I ate, and the foods and activity that accompanied every dose. I should have, but I didn’t. About two months ago, I suggested Big Ring and I go on a four-day getaway within the two-week break between the end of winter semester and the start of summer semester. I’d been going hard with my studies for nearly two straight years; I needed a break, something to free my mind and refresh me before the attack of yet another summer of chemistry hell, er, I mean, awesomeness 😉 It was between San Francisco or Portland. Initially Big Ring was championing for San Francisco as he’d only previously seen it on a day-trip during our Sonoma County/Levi Leipheimer

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Clips: The Bane of my Cycling Existence

Alright my cycling-loving readers, how many of you struggle with clipless pedals? I’ve been riding clipped in for six years now; my first ever ride in clips was on the Belgian cobblestones on a proper Flanderian cold, wet day, which was all sorts of scary, especially when the sirens of an ambulance started blaring right behind me in a funky roundabout moments after I started riding and I had no idea what to do beyond veering right and pretty much riding into a parked car to stop myself. Least I didn’t fall over. Least there was no one in the car. Belgium 2010: My first foray with clipless pedals. But I digress. So yeah, six years, and for the most part I’m pretty okay in them. At times I struggle getting my right foot clipped in after a stoplight, but usually the left foot, my leading foot, I’ve got no

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Home is the Mountains

I didn’t want to call him. Big Ring was expecting it; I know he was. He didn’t say he was, but the implication was there. “This is the way you need to go,” he said, his eyes boring into mine. “These are the roads you want to be on,” he emphasized, sloooowly. “Do you know where you’re going? Do you know where you’re going to turn around? Do you know your landmarks,” he asked, the volume of his voice increasing with every new question. And finally, “I’ll be around for an hour or so if you need me,” he called out as I was shutting the door behind me. Big Ring isn’t usually this over-protective. I have a history of getting lost; no matter how detailed the directions, 98 per cent of the time, I somehow get completely twisted around on the road, and in the mind. I’ve done it

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Cycling and Diabetes: Third Time Lucky

Third Time Lucky. It took three rides on the bike before I managed near blood sugar perfection. All the rides began around the same time, a few hours after breakfast, but varied in distance and length. The first ride back, I was chasing lows the entire time, even before we began, my blood sugars were dropping. Ugh. About 30 minutes before the ride, I inhaled half a peanut butter and jam sandwich on whole grain bread, around 25g carbs, no insulin. My blood sugars were 7.6 before the sandwich, and 20 minutes later were down to 6.1. I dropped my continuous basal insulin down 70 per cent. An hour into the ride, my blood sugars were at 4.5. I ate a savoury salted sweet potato Clif gel, which was all sorts of disgusting, had 2 dried apricots, and turned my basal off completely. At lunch, an hour later, they were

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