Exercise – Peanut Butter and Toast

February 10

(Teaching A New Body Old Tricks…)

Late afternoon/evening cross country ski with a friend (after an already lovely lunch and visit with another friend). The ski was kind of last minute decision. And not just up to the Rail Trails but out to the ski area at Apex/Busk.

I was really nervous heading up. Excited, but nervous. Worried about BG tanking, part of me wanting to cancel. ‘What ifs’ piling up in my head- what if BG crashed, what if I couldn’t keep up, etc…

Well, I crashed within the first 10mins. Not my BG, but me, physically. Ski tips crossed on a downhill corner and down I went. But it was kind of a slow motion fall, like maybe I planned it, because I could’ve stayed up if I’d tried a bit harder. But the falling was good. Made the ‘scary’ go away and brought me back to earth, literally.

I fell a few more times but laughed them off (even though my hip and my tailbone aren’t laughing now).

We skied from the Busk parking lot down to the Euphrates Warming Hut (5-6km loop). We stopped there for tea, as some previous skiers had blessed us by starting the woodstove so it was cozy in the little A-frame. Dusk was leaning toward dark when we headed back. I was thankful my friend had brought a headlamp- I couldn’t see very far ahead but it made a circle of light right in front of me, so I just trusted the tracks. (Insert deep, philosophical thoughts here 😉 ).

Dark, quiet forest and a sky full of stars.

I was tired on the way back and asked for help getting a juice box out of my pack. (I discovered later I didn’t need it, BG had been good the whole time, it was just endorphins and adrenaline).

But that’s right, I asked for help. And I am proud of myself for doing that.

Now it’s 7:30pm and I’m just about to have dinner. And it’s ok to be off my schedule once in a while. It was wonderful and empowering to push myself out of my comfort zone again.

January 13

It snowed lightly all day yesterday and by last night I was thinking about taking myself up to the Rail Trail today, to get back on my cross-country skis.

I haven’t been out on them since before my diagnosis.

I’m not a huge fan of winter- I don’t like being cold, I don’t like the grey days when the clouds don’t lift out of the valley here.

But I’m trying really hard this year to make the most of it (basically because I am afraid of sliding into the blackness I was in last winter).

So, this morning I went out. I bundled up and backed up my small backpack with more than enough emergency supplies (2 juice boxes, a pb sandwich, starburst candies and my water bottle) and walked up to the trail.

The Rail Trail is less than a 10 min. walk from where I’m living. It used to be the railroad through town years ago (hence, the name). The railroad itself has been taken off the bed so now it is a wide trail that runs across the top of town. Perfect for walking and cycling and skiing.

I was really nervous heading out- it’s always that way with a new activity- that’s why I over-prepped.

But it was wonderful!

I forgot how much of a workout cross country skiing is.

I had a BG of 11.6 when I was about to leave the house so I ate half a power bar (20g). Half an hour in I checked and was 5.9. Pb sandwich (24g) came in handy,(even though the dog I had met up there was hoping I was giving handouts). Skied the half hour back, which was very slightly downhill-sloped, and when I got home was 5.8 (and sore in place I had forgotten I had muscles!).

January 1

BG 10mmol at 3am. 12.6 this morning at 9am. Why? Dunno.

Slept really well (of course, cuz my BG was high). Pulled my snowshoes out of the shed yesterday. I’m not the best at getting outside in the winter but maybe today…

I drifted up into the forest this morning. Up the hill to the head of the Mill Lake Trail, along a path where my neighbours walk their dogs, boot and paw prints in the snow.

It’s easier to see through the trees in the winter, and also easier to be seen. Nothing can hide in that snow-filled space.

Trees squeaked high above me head as the wind pushed and pulled at them, brushing them against the white sky.

I really wasn’t used to that exertion, especially trudging through snow, but it felt good to make my lungs work a bit harder.

And then I realized I hadn’t brought any of my ‘anchors’ with me- a snack, my glucometer- all at home. It is so completely freeing and also makes that big, red alarm light starting blinking in my head. The road is just within sight still and I am a 15min walk from home, the alarm isn’t sounding yet, but it’s warming up. Nothing to be drastically concerned about.. besides, I have one package of Halloween candy that I found buried deep in a pocket, just in case..

I walked a little further up. Another few minutes to where the trail bends again. I take stock. My limbs are tired from climbing the steep slope in the snow, but it’s a good-tired, not a fumbly, lack of brain-power tired. My BG had been running high for a day or so before so I am really not afraid. But I turn around and head back down. It is a quick and easy walk back to the cabin, downhill all the way. I was a little upset I wasn’t more prepared and couldn’t keep going but it’s ok for today. Just that little walk felt so wonderful and calming.

August 23 (Describing Day 2 of MS Ride)

I remember waking up in the middle of the night with legs so sore I didn’t know if I’d be able to go out the next day but it was somewhat better in the morning. I got up a bit early and did a LOT of stretches. Left Lakeside Park at 8am. Sore starting out. My ride buddy (a friend from work) is much more athletic (and a faster rider) than me but she was so sweet and waited for me at each rest stop before lunch (3 stops between Nelson and Kaslo).

After the stop in Ainsworth I started dreading the hill after the Woodbury Marina – it’s steep and the sun would make it extra terrible. But then I started thinking about 49 Creek hill – about the advice to just put my head down and go. And I remember gearing right down and putting my head down so my eyes were focused on a spot just ahead of my front tire. And I just kept pedaling, slow and steady.

august21-06 I made it to the top. I have never in practice runs made it up without stopping! I was panting and grinning like a fool by the time I started coasting down the other side, almost crying with pride. I rode another 15 mins before stopping to check my BG. (I don’t remember the number but I remember it was still in good range). I remember the medics drove by then and I gave them the thumbs up and they waved.

Made it to Kaslo for lunch at about 12:10. The rules are you have to be leaving Kaslo by 1pm or they scoop you up and transport you to the Fish Lake rest stop (30km up the hill from Kaslo, last rest stop before the finish line). No one had to tell me to hurry, I was shoveling food in within 10mins. One of the medics checked in on me while I was eating- was I ok? Staying hydrated? Yes! and Yes! I left the lunch stop at 12:40 and pushed up the steep hill out of Kaslo – head down, slow and steady.

august21-05 There is a nice, seemingly gentle incline between Kaslo and Fish Lake (the summit of the mountain). It’s 30 km. It’s mostly hell. The first rest stop after Kaslo is about 15 km up. And I was tired at this point. All the scenery the whole 30 km was gorgeous but I was getting fucking tired. And I remember this section of the ride was where I felt the most like quitting. Because it felt like it went on forever. Fish Lake was never around the next bend (like I kept telling myself).

I stopped about 4 times in that next 15 km to eat and hydrate. One of them I thought for sure I was feeling a low BG but when I checked it was 6.8 – I was just august21-08 exhausted. That was right around Whitewater Creek and the climb got a little steeper and I was really ready to just sit down on the side of the road and quit. I kept watching for a break in the trees up ahead, trying to guess which place would be wide enough that the little lake would be there.

Then there was a sign on the side of the road, marking a rest stop coming up. Suddenly I was there and there was a wonderful volunteer offering to put ice on my neck (Yes! oh god, please!!) and my head. I could smile again.

I ate again there and tried not to panic because my own extra supplies were done except for the 2/3 bottle of sport drink. I ate as much as I could and tried not to overthink – most of the next (and last!) 20 km were downhill so I should be ok.

That 20 km (with a little climb near Sandon) was amazing! Now I would say worth the endless 30 km up. At one point my speedometer clocked 60 km/hr! One of the stronger riders who had been lounging at Fish Lake ‘caught up’ with me and we coasted into New Denver together.

I yelled out for another hug at the finish line and got it with lots of cheers from other riders and volunteers. I didn’t check my BG right away but downed a chocolate milk (the best I have ever drank, by the way) and went and sat in the lake for 5 mins as it was 4pm and about a thousand (30) degrees out.

I remember being euphoric and in total disbelief and so full of pride. I ate and wandered around for an hour before packing up to head home. I cried on the drive home – joyfully- and I remember being completely blissed out that evening. I don’t think I have ever felt that way before. And even now, I am craving it, and I am mourning a bit, that all of it is over.

August 22 (Describing Day 1 of MS Ride)

I did it.

And I am elated. The mass of us (almost 100 riders) left the start line at 8:30am in beautiful sunshine but the air was still cool. The medics all knew about me – I went and introduced myself right away when I got to the start area. The two lead medics checked in on me all weekend. Hugs and praise from one of them right at the start when I told her I had emergency snacks and my glucometer with me on my bike. Made me feel so proud of myself. It also made me feel better about my choice to ride with a pannier bag when most other riders had nothing. (One rider even questioned my extra bag at the end of the day, letting me know that bags can be sent on ahead. I thanked her (I think) and said, ‘I know. This is for supplies I needed.’).

Day 1 august20-07 was gorgeous- hill climbs and mountain views and even a ‘hello’ from a black bear that popped up out of the ditch and stood in the road about 30 feet ahead of me. He stopped my coasting momentum down the hill past Slocan but it was lovely to have a moment with him/her. Just the two of us, standing on the road staring at each other, before he wandered across the road and down into the ditch on the other side. And then another 10 minutes further and I catch sight of another one disappearing into the bushes.

Our lunch break was in Winlaw. I had been stopping at every rest stop and eating 1-2 servings of carbs, sometimes checking BG, sometimes not. At Lemon Creek I was 6.8 and I remember thinking ‘ that’s not going to get me to lunch (about 14km further). I remember I had 30g granola bar at that point and some sport drink. (I always had one water bottle full of one of those sports’ drinks. I picked up the powdered mix and went through 4 bottles of it plus snacks on day 1 and 5 plus snacks on day 2). And I remember the nurse was there too and she asked me what my BG was, I told her and assured her I was eating.

When I got to lunch my BG was at 7.7 and I shoveled food in. Just took a half unit. My sister is an EMT in Winlaw and they had set up an event table at our lunch rest stop so I ended up sitting with them while I ate. When the other lead paramedic pulled up he saw me there (sitting with the ambulance crew) and looked concerned. I called over “I’m ok, I’m visiting my sister and her team,” and he comes over to talk to her (our communities are small and emergency crews often know each other) and says “Your sister is the diabetic?” Hahaha! august20-10

Probably not the best place to sit because my doctor (he was on the ride too) comes over, looking worried. I assure him too, I’m just visiting my sister and she pops out from the ambulance to give him a hug. “I just wanted to make sure this one is ok.” “Yep, she’s good.” So much love and support during this ride!!

The rest stop before 49 Creek hill was when I really started to panic about that one – it’s steep and long. My doc was coming up to it at the same time and I told him my fear. He said “It’s all psychological, just don’t look up.” And we all dump water on our heads (because it’s somewhere around 30 degrees Celsius) and start up.

And I didn’t look up. And I made it up the hill. Without having to walk my bike or stop to catch my breath, as I have done in the past. And I didn’t have an instant hypoglycemic collapse. I was too shy to yell that I wanted a hug to the volunteers (that were cheering us on) and other riders at the rest stop at the top. I couldn’t believe that I did it!!

And after that it was down Granite Road and into town.

I rode a lot of Day 1 alone. Well, by myself but not alone. The medics and volunteers were constantly driving the route to check on all the riders. It was good. One of my favourite parts of cycling is the ‘aloneness’.

When I got to Lakeside Park at the end of Day 1 I yelled for a hug and got two big ones. And a fist-bump from my doc.

It was awesome and exhausting.