5 years ago I was very sick .
I was diagnosed with Type 1 Diabetes in September of 2015, even though I knew the month before that something was wrong (See August 2015 posts). I was fairly certain I was diabetic but didn’t want to deal with it. I was afraid.
The last 5 years have been really challenging- my heart and carb-calculating brain go out to all diabetics out there (you are all amazing!). I work really hard to manage my diabetes, sometimes obsessing over it more than is emotionally healthy. I am exercising regularly and have been for the past few months. I am more emotionally stable and physically stronger than I have in a long time…. maybe ever?
A couple of weeks ago I decided to change my mind about this disease. Maybe it is our unknown future, with these months of the Covid-19 pandemic or maybe it was just time. Even though everyone says ‘live your life, don’t live for your diabetes’ it’s a tricky thing to let go of- for me there has been, and still is, a lot of fear about crashing or being unable to handle things that come up in life because my levels are off.
But I decided it was time to stop missing out on things because I was afraid.
I live in a wondrous area in Southern BC that is mountains and mountains and more mountains. Today I did a very challenging hike up onto one of the ridges – 2 hrs of steep uphill climbing. I started bonking really hard, but managed it and later spiked the highest I’ve been in a long time, but managed that as well.
I did it!
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.
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.
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).
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.