Carrots and Hiccups

Anyone else out there get hiccups every time they eat raw carrots?

This has happened to me ever since I was a very young child. Carrot sticks = hiccups is just part of my routine. Celery sticks do not cause hiccups. Nor do any other fresh veggies. Grated carrots don't either. Nor do cooked ones. But one bite of a raw carrot has me reaching for the water for my get rid of hiccups quick trick that I mastered decades ago.

Most people think the whole carrot hiccup thing is odd.

My mother does not.

Because she has the exact same issue with them and has as long as she can remember too.

No one else in the family does. Just the two of us. So we laugh and take comfort in the fact that, if we're crazy, at least we're crazy together.

The other day I cut myself some carrot sticks and celery sticks for an afternoon snack. One bite of the carrot stick and the hiccups started. I got rid of them with my drinking water trick and then headed off to the couch with the rest of my snack. It occurred to me as I reached for my iPad to continue my magazine that perhaps I should do some internet research to see what's up with this whole carrot hiccup thing.

Guess what I learned?

1. I learned that there are a whole bunch of people out there who get hiccups from eating raw carrots. No other veggies. Just raw carrots. And by a bunch I mean like a whole bunch.

2. I learned that there is no obvious answer as to why this happens. It is not a carrot allergy - that much I concluded. A few websites said that we are eating the carrots too quickly but I know that, for myself anyway, even when I pay attention and chew slowly, I still get the hiccups on the first bite. I know I am only an n of one but there were others who seemed to think that this hypothesis was horsepoop too.

3. I also learned that one woman started a website as a support group for people who get hiccups from raw carrots so that they could feel less alone. I read through the comments and every single person wrote something along the lines of "Omigod I thought I was the only one".

So guess what I did?

I called my mom of course.

And told her that we were not crazy.

An Unexpected Pace Bunny

Saturday morning I headed out for my easy 60 minute run that caps off my easy running week. The snow had melted just enough that the main roads were clear. The sides ones (ie. mine) were not and navigating them was a little tricky but, once on the main roads, it was a lovely day for a run.

I set off with no plans other than to enjoy a comfortably paced run and that is exactly what I did for the first few kilometres.

That is until I spotted one of my running friends off in the distance.

I guessed that she was less than a kilometre away but more than 500m. Close enough to know it was her but not close enough to yell.

She is a faster runner than I am and seemed to be going at a good clip. I knew I couldn't make up the distance to catch up to her unless she stopped to tie her shoes. Instead, I decided to see if I could hold on and not let her get any further ahead.

So I sped up.

A lot.

Like at least 40 seconds per kilometre faster.

And the chase began.

I knew that my route was taking me by her street so I figured she was heading home. I also know the route enough to know that we had about 2.5 kilometres until her street so I was going to have to hold this pace for at least 15 minutes.

The pace felt brisk but surprisingly manageable. Probably because I was rested after taking it easy all week. I listened to my breath, took constant stock of how I was feeling and watched her like a hawk to make sure she didn't pull ahead.

She didn't.

Once she got to her street I no longer had a bunny to chase. But I was feeling good and enjoying the push so I kept at it to see if I could sustain it for the last 3k home. I held it easily for 2 of those 3k but the final kilometre derailed completely as I turned back off the main roads and onto the snow and ice covered side one.

Such a fun run!

I headed out for an easy 9k and ended up running three different runs. I ran 2k on treacherous snowy roads, 2k at my expected pace and then tucked in the middle I had a lovely 5k gallop that was completely unplanned and totally fun.

An Israeli Supper

Two years ago we were getting ready for my sister to come home for Christmas. While she was here, she and I planned my big adventure to go visit her in Israel the following March.

I visited, ran the Tel Aviv half, gorged on hummus, halva and baklava, drank my weight in pomegranate juice, travelled from one end of the country to the other and, in the process fell madly in love with Israel.

This past weekend I was flooded with memories of that wonderful adventure and decided that, if I can't go to Israel, I can bring Israel to me.

Or, more precisely, to my kitchen.

So I pulled out my beloved Jerusalem cookbook and set about making my first batch of from scratch traditional Israeli hummus.

I soaked the chickpeas overnight.

Sunday afternoon I boiled them and removed as many as their skins as possible.

I tossed the mushy mess into the food processor, added tahini, freshly squeezed lemon juice, freshly crushed garlic and iced cold water.

I blended until absolutely smooth.

I put it in a bowl under plastic wrap to let it 'settle'.

A few hours later, pour souper, I spread the hummus on a plate and drizzled olive oil and lemon juice over it the way they did it for us in Jerusalem. Topped with pan heated pine nuts and fresh parsley = delicious!

Fresh pitas ripped by hand and crunchy veggies were used for dipping.

And, for dessert?

Pomegranates and baklava of course!

Just a little hummus teaser for you.

One Snow Fall = Lots of Reactions

A wee bit of snow fell in my neck of the woods.

It started on Wednesday evening as I drove home from a dinner with friends. Thursday evening, as I wrote this blog, it still hadn't quite stopped. I lost track of how many centimetres fell but it was enough to completely transform the landscape from the dark colours of late fall to the glorious white of winter.

The runner in me peeked out the window on Thursday morning, saw the snow and decided to hop on the bike instead. A few years ago I would have pulled on my yaktraks and toughed it out. Now I am a little more protective and weigh the pros and cons before heading out in nasty weather. Is a 5k run with a high risk of fall or injury really worth it? Not when I am not training for anything AND I have a perfectly good bike in the basement.

The driver in me saw the snow and thanked the driving gods that I only live a kilometre from work AND have winter tires. I looked out my office window all day watching car after car slip and slide their way up and down the street.

The outdoorsy part of me did a little happy dance as I got to shovel not once but twice. In the dark early morning hours the snow was falling, the wind was gently blowing and the world was still and quiet. After work, the sky was blue, the kids were playing in the park across the street and the air was fresh and clean. Snow shoveling is my absolute favourite chore.

The Tabata part of me was sad that the class was cancelled. I sort of got over it after driving home and experiencing how bad the roads were. Suddenly driving across town in the dark was not at all appealing. I completely got over it after a solid hour of shoveling heavy wet snow. A complete core workout that was probably a little easier thanks to all of the Tabata and CoreFit I've been doing.

The homebody part of me looked forward to my first evening on the couch is almost a week. An early dinner, chores done, blog written - time for a few magazines, a glass of wine and some quiet time.

Ready or not folks, winter has arrived.

Play the Course the Way You Find it

Sunday night we were watching the Canada Cup of Curling final. Team Jacobs versus Team McEwen. Team Jacobs was predicted to win but they were struggling a bit.

The announcers, bless them, were trying to figure out their problem.

Well, they didn't play yesterday so that could be it. They lost touch with the ice.

Plus the ice is different during the final game because there are fewer teams playing which affects the ice temperature.

And there are more people in the audience which heats up the building, also affecting the ice temperature.

Oh, and they are convinced that one of their rocks is a 'cutter' meaning that it doesn't rotate the way it should.

I turned to Doug and announced "curling is just like diabetes!".

"How so?" he asked.

"What worked yesterday probably won't work today and there are so many variables that can affect the game that it's impossible to be 'perfect' for more than a few moments."

"Diabetes is like golf too" countered Doug. "Every day the course is different. And the only way to cope is to play the course the way you find it. Not the way you remember it from the day before."

"Wow, I should write a blog about this!" I said.

"Well, fire up your laptop and get on it" replied Doug.

"Oh, and I have one more nugget of wisdom that you could use to wrap up your blog" he said with a grin.

"It's the same ice for both teams."

"Thanks baby" I said as I fired up my laptop.

Bolusing for Baklava

"Need anything out of the kitchen?" Doug asked.

"I'm hoping I can have baklava but not yet" I replied after a glance at my pump.

I had bolused a little earlier but no sign that I was dropping yet so there was no way I was touching that high carb treat.

Evenings are a juggling act on my side of the couch.

I like a little post-dinner treat but I've learned a few important lessons over the years.

1. Bolus early and do not eat the snack until it's very clear that blood sugar is dropping as it should.

2. Eat early enough so that I know if I'm in a good spot before going to bed - otherwise Rose will wait until I'm sound asleep and then start alarming like a madwomen. I may be high. I may be low. But I'll be something. And no one wants to eat four fig newtons at midnight after already having a high calorie treat before bed.

3. Do not have a post-dinner treat if dinner was a high carb meal. Otherwise there won't be enough time to know what the blood sugar dinner gods will do before I call in the blood sugar snacks gods. Usually they have a big ol' fight in the middle of the night. See number 2 for more details.

4. Do not rage bolus after 7pm unless absolutely necessary. Without fail I will be eating a snack that I do not want to eat at 3am. Guarantee.

There are nights when I have bolused for chocolate, put it on a plate, studiously ignored it for an hour and then put it back in the cupboard with a sigh because, by 9:00pm, I still wasn't low enough to eat it.

There are night when I have bolused for chocolate, enjoyed the chocolate without waiting for my dinner numbers to drop, gone to bed high, bolused extra and then had to eat two more snacks during the night because of lows.

"Need anything out of the kitchen?" is always tempting but I'm slowly learning to say yes when the stars align and to say no when they don't.

I value my sleep too much to jeopardize it unnecessarily for a piece of baklava - as delicious as it is.

Too Focused To Pay Attention

For the five weeks, I have been running with two goals in mind. Recover from my autumn cold and increase my weekend long runs to 15k so that I can run 90 minutes without too much difficulty.

Five weekends ago I ran 10k which was demoralizing after having been off for a few weeks. 

Four weekends ago I ran 12k which was pretty tough. 

Three weekends ago I ran 14k which was tough but a little bit less so. 

Two weekends ago I ran 15k and also went back to my much hillier route which meant added distance and difficulty. It felt surprisingly good and I was pumped. Runner girl was back! 

This past Saturday I did the same 15k hilly route again. The hills and the first 10k went quite well. Then I turned into a nasty headwind for 3k which sapped my strength and slowed me down. I persevered and finished but was exhausted by the end...and for the rest of the afternoon. I also had some foot and shin pain which seemed a little odd because I had stretched and iced right after the run and hadn't experienced any problems up to that point. 

Later that afternoon I entered my run into my online training program (Training Peaks) and I looked at how my mileage was adding up. 

That's when the first of two things hit me.

Céline, you've been so focused on getting your running fitness back that you forgot all about recovery weeks. 

I have been running for five weeks without a break - increasing the mileage every single week without slowing down to let my body recover. 

So, ready or not, this week is an easy week - 5k runs in the morning before work and 10k on Saturday. C'est tout! 

Then the second thing hit me as I limped around the house all afternoon. 

How old are your running shoes anyway? 

Because I had not been training for anything official since early September, I wasn't paying close attention to the mileage on my shoes. Thankfully, Training Peaks tracks that for me too. I did a little checkie-check and discovered that my 'new' shoes had actually been purchased in June (June!) and had 719k on them.

I usually trade them in at 500k to avoid injury. 

How does one run an extra 200k without noticing? 

My mathematical prediction? 

Easy week + new shoes = an extra little bounce in my step. 

A Month of Numbers

I was cleaning up my home office on the weekend and spotted my Diasend box of tricks amongst the piles of documents that I needed to file.

So, while I filed, I uploaded a month's worth of insulin pump data.

Once I finished filing, my treat was that I got to pour over the numbers, cup of tea in hand, to see how things had unfolded in the last month or so.

The number of ways that Diasend lets me look at the data is almost too much. The first few times I did looked at it, I looked at everything and got too bogged down in the details to notice the important stuff.

Now that I'm a little more experienced, I look at the things that are important.

Like this:

A month's worth of Continuos Glucose Monitor (CGM) readings. The green section is my target range (between 4.0 and 10.0). The red dots are my average reading for every hour of the day. The black lines extending up and down from those dots show the highest and lowest reading I had during each hour. 

And this:

This pie graph is my favourite thing to look at. It tells me at a glance what percent of CGM readings were below 4.0, above 10.0 and what percent were within target range (4.0-10.0). According to this I was below 4.0 only 3% of the time and above 10.0 only 16% of the time. The rest fell into the lovely green section. 

The last thing I look at is a tiny little number on the last page that read: average blood glucose reading. 

For the last four weeks, my average blood glucose reading was: 7.5 

So what did I do after checking out all the stats? 

After doing a happy dance I mean. 

I increased my basal rate between 11:00 and 17:00 to try to get those higher afternoon numbers down a bit. I also made a minor increase in my insulin to carb ratio at lunch time to see if that will help too. 

Other than that, I'm not touching anything. No point messing with a good thing. 

Diabetes - What it Feels Like on the Inside (a repost)

A little over a year ago I wrote a post trying to explain what diabetes feels like to me. I reread it yesterday and decided that it's worth republishing. So here it is from November 2013 - mere days before I starting using Dexter. I wonder if I would have written it differently if I was already CGM'ing?

_____________________
It's always the same and yet it's always different.

Sometimes it starts with a dry throat and a gentle headache right between my eyes. The kind that makes me squint a bit and brings out those frown lines that I get when I'm thinking hard about something.

Sometimes it starts with a yawn. And then another one. And then another one. I usually start slouching in my chair a bit or get up to make some tea in an effort to wake up.

Sometimes my elbows start to feel a little less bendy. Like the fluid in my joints is starting to solidify.

Sometimes I get a funny taste in my mouth.

Sometimes the symptoms stop there. Sometimes they get worse and my dry throat becomes a crushing thirst, my gentle headache starts to pound, my yawns flow into each other and my joints all begin to join the stiffening chorus. Sometimes my hands start to ache.

Sometimes I clue in quickly. Other times I don't.

I always clue in eventually and grab my glucometer - knowing I'm going to see 16+ on the screen.

Sometimes my lips and tongue start to tingle just a bit. The way they feel when the freezing is coming out after a trip to the dentist.

Sometimes my heart starts beating a little faster and feels like a fluttering bird in my chest.

Sometimes I start to yawn. And yawn. And yawn. I go make a cup of green tea in an effort to wake up a bit.

Sometimes my limbs start to feel light, like gravity was turned down a notch. I become a little more awkward and clumsy than usual.

Sometimes little things annoy me. Things that didn't annoy me even a minute before and things that don't normally annoy me...ever.

Sometimes I clue in quickly. Sometimes I don't.

When I don't, my lips and tongue start tingling a lot - to the point where I can hardly feel them. My heart beat gets crazier and I start to sweat. It comes on fast and furious at that point and I can easily sweat through a hoodie and a jacket as well as my jeans in minutes. The yawns progress to the point where I can hardly get a sentence out between them. The world starts to spin. I need to sit down.

What I really need to do is grab some juice.

Diabetes is a textbook disease made up of numbers. Dosages. Ratios. Units. Time.

Diabetes is often summarized on a piece a paper with pictures of people drinking water or looking pale and shaky. It comes with warnings that a person is in one of the two ends of the blood sugar spectrum and helpful suggestions about what to do.

Diabetes is all of those things. And it's none of those things.

Diabetes is the horror of waking up drenched in sweat and hardly able to reach the Dex 4s on your bedside table and wondering, through the haze, "what if I hadn't woken up?"

Diabetes is the fear of going back to sleep in case it happens again. And it's the feeling of isolation when you get to the pool the next morning, tired and shaken, and no one has any idea what you've been through and how scared you were...and how important it was to get up early anyway so diabetes doesn't win.

Diabetes is the horror of struggling to control a blood sugar of 25 with dose after dose of insulin and feeling that every minute you spend up in the clouds is another minute that diabetes is doing damage to your body. The only body you have. And diabetes is wondering if this high will be the high that puts me over the edge to the land of no return.

Diabetes is the fear of going low 1500m from shore during a triathlon swim and yet still getting in the water because the fear of letting diabetes dictate your life is greater than the fear of an open-water low.

Diabetes is squinting at the tiny air bubbles in your insulin tube, carefully priming to get them out, and then wondering if anyone will do that for you if your eyesight fails and you are no longer able to do that for yourself one day.

Diabetes is listening to people talk about other people with diabetes and all the horrible things happening to them...and refusing to let that stop you from trying to be healthy even though it's just so easy to give up and hand diabetes the reigns.

Diabetes is about doing the same thing, day after day after day, knowing it's only going to work half the time.

Diabetes is about finding a way to be proud of the fact that you test your blood sugar in public and have tubes coming out of you as you walk around the change room after your swim. Because the alternative is hiding and that's not an alternative you're willing to entertain.

Diabetes is all numbers and ratios and signs and symptoms on the outside.

On the inside, it's a never-ending battle between fear and courage. Between motivation and depression. Between the will to fight and the urge to throw in the towel.

Sometimes I'm the one on the left. Sometimes I'm the one on the right. 

Depends on the day. 

Minus 12 Going on Minus 20

On Tuesday morning I got up early to run. I am a good little Canadian runner and so I checked the temperature AND the windchill before deciding what to wear.

-6C was the temp.

-12C with the windchill.

The wind was 14km/hour which didn't cause me any distress. I don't even begin to think about it until it goes above 20km/hour.

So I pulled on my pants, my long sleeved Under Armour shirt, my long-sleeve second layer with the built in mitts that I love. My vest. My toque.

I headed downstairs.

"Are you going to be warm enough?" asked Doug who was heading into the basement for a bike ride.

"Oh yes!" I replied proudly. "It's only -12C with the windchill. The wind is hardly blowing and I have three layers on. In fact, I may be too hot."

Ok, he said, studiously avoiding looking me in the eye.

I walked outside and thought "it's lovely out here". I walked down the driveway and admired the black sky and the bright stars shining. "I am so lucky to be able to run at this time of day" I though as I looked at Orion in the sky.

Then I walked past the edge of the house and felt the first gust of wind.

"Bloody hell!" I gasped. I quickly turned on my watch and started running lest I freeze in place. I had decided to change my route back to one I ran a lot earlier this year. Seven kilometres but with a few long hills to help me get my hill running strength back a bit. It is also a bit more sheltered from the wind which I hadn't thought about before but now was profoundly grateful for.

I went out faster than I normally would have with one goal: warm the heck up. My entire body was freezing to the point where I was shaking as a ran. My lungs gasped for air as my chest shook from the cold. Not a good combo.

A few kilometres in I reached the first hill. The longest but most gradual of them all. By that time I could feel that my chest was warm and glowing but the heat I was generating was not moving beyond the edge of my vest. My arms, despite two layers and 15 minutes of running, were still freezing. I couldn't even feel my legs so I assumed they weren't warming up yet either.

By 4k I was still moving as quickly as I could despite having climbed the second and toughest hill of the run. My goal now was to just get it done and, no matter what, NOT STOP RUNNING.

At 5k, I realized that I had remembered the route wrong. I knew every turn and every hill but the 7k that I remembered was turning out to be 8k instead. And no short cut option to get home faster.

There was no time to whine or complain. No time to stop and gather my energy. It was life or death out there.

Onward!

I ran right to the edge of the driveway, didn't even bother stretching my calves and flung open the kitchen door with a gasp. Doug, getting breakfast ready in his shorts and t-shirt, turned around in horror.

"It's freezing! Close the door!!"

"Minus twelve my ass" was my response.

He laughed and said "I told you".

I insisted that the temperature being reported was actually incorrect. So was the one on our fancy pants temperature gauge. He smiled patiently, mumbled something non-commital about my temperature comments and suggested that I wear my jacket next time.

So did you notice anything while reading this?

I ran 8k. With lots of hills. Without stopping. Or complaining about low energy, fatigue or slow speeds.

I ran 8k at 5:30am, galloped up hills and froze my keister off. And it felt great!

The Medusa

In January of this year, I set a goal to learn how to do my hair.

Do my hair as in move beyond ponytails and messy buns (thank heavens for those!) and try to learn to do lovely braids and twists and other things. Take it a notch up so to speak.

I am happy to report that I have mastered the French braid.

I am sad to report that this is all I have mastered despite having 11 months of practice.

I have watched youtube videos of ladies with lovely tresses transform themselves into Katniss-like braided sphinxes in two minutes using three bobby pins and nimble fingers.

I have watched "it's so easy anyone could do it!!" videos of first timers learning how to do updos, lovely side braids and twisty braided ponytail thingies.

All look simple.

All apparently require mere minutes and three magic bobby pins to complete and no more than one try to master.

So what the eff is my problem?

I have the bobby pins. The tiny elastics. The ability to braid.

And yes, no matter what I try, I end up looking like a tussled mess and the entire 'do begins to fall out five minutes after I finished doing it. I'm the Medusa, not the sphinx.

I admit that I do have rather silky hair which doesn't help since most braids slide right out. I have learned to embrace the every second day hair wash when possible which helps a bit to keep things together but still.

I can honestly say that learning how to golf was significantly easier than learning how to do a ponytail with a braid woven in.

Anyone want some hairstyle supplies? I have enough elastics and bobby pins to start my own hair shop. If I had the patience to start my own hair shop. Which I now realize I don't and never will.

In the meantime, I'm learning to embrace the ponytail and moving on to bigger and better things that don't drive me bat shit crazy.

November Fitness Wrap-Up

After October's fitness failure, November was a bit of a redemption month. As my energy came back after being sick for a few weeks I was able to add a bit more activity each week. One step at a time and, by the end of 30 days, I actually covered a fairly good distance.

CoreFit and Tabata
I attended 3 CoreFit classes and 3 Tabata classes in November. The only two I missed were last week when I was away for work. That a total of 6 hours of core, abs and legs. Did I mention that I love those classes?

Curling
We're back on the ice now for our regular Friday night curling battles. I don't usually report on curling but, the more I think about it, the more i think I should. It's a tough sport. The sweeping gets my cardio up the way the bike never does and it's great for the arms. It also works on leg strength as well as balance. I curled 4 regular games in November as well as three bonus ones thanks to the Lighthouse Bonspiel last weekend. That's a total of 10 1/2 hours on the ice. Did I mention that it's freezing out there?

Cycling
I managed to get on the trainer three times in November. Twice on Sundays and one nasty morning when it was just too windy, snowy and cold to run outside. I cycled 52.6km in total and pedalled for 2 1/2 hours overall.

Running
Running was much better this month. I completed 11 runs in November which is almost three runs per week (minus the snow day when I hopped on the bike). I ran a total of 11 1/2 hours and covered 102km. My longs runs were 10k, 12k, 14k and 15k. I'm clawing my way back to being able to run 1 1/2 hours straight without needing to spend the rest of the day on the couch. This past weekend's long run was the best I've felt in about 6 weeks on a long run. So yay for that.

I do have to admit that, without golf, my overall time spent moving is down significantly. I have also been neglecting the pool as you may have noticed. I started off missing because I was off, then I was sick. then I stayed off because I was exhausted. Now I'm not swimming because, well, because I don't really feel like it. I think I got a bit burned out from all the early mornings and the rigamarole that goes along with early-morning swims. So no swimming at the moment and I'm completely ok with that. I may go back this month for a few swims. I may not. I'm definitely back in the pool in January in order to prepare for the 2015 triathlon season. Between now and then - it will be what it will be and I'm not worried about whatever it is.

At the end of December I'll report back on the last month of 2014 as well as the grand total for the year. That's always fun. I wonder if I'll meet my goal of running 1000km in 2014? That would be fun.

The Revenge of the Lighthouse

Saturday, well, I have no idea what the weather was. I have no idea if the sun shone or if the wind blew.

We arrived at the curling club just before 8am and didn't leave again until almost 6pm.

In those 10 hours we were busy.

We decorated the club with tacky but fun decorations.

Who can resist a lobster towel, orca, puffin, Ariel display? 

We turned the curling windows into an aquarium. 

Complete with octopi and clown fish. 

We put gummy whales and fishes on all the tables next to the homemade lighthouses.

We revved up the East Coast tunes on the speaker system.

By 9am, the curlers had arrived. By 9:30am we were on the ice playing our first game.

Which we won. With enough points to put us in first place. Which was pretty exciting.

A quick pot of tea (or beer depending on the team) and a bowl of seafood chowder and we were back on for the second game.

The second game was a battle of the Friday night curling titans. Team Geddie versus Team Leahy is always a fun event. Back and forth it went. Good shots, bad shots and miracle shots which, at the end of the day, weren't enough to win. We dropped from first to 6th. Sad.

Thankfully, it was time for lunch. Oysters, lobster penne, caesar salad with calamari and a glass of red wine does wonders for the pride of a team.

Game three was, well, there are no words. How would YOU describe a 6-end game that ended 12-1 for the other team. By the end all we could do was laugh and try hail mary shots in the hopes that they might save us. Our goal was to keep them from getting the maximum points on the board: 15. We achieved that if nothing else.

We dropped down to the bottom half of the standings and skulked off the ice with our tails between our legs.

I tried to redeem us in the closest to the rock challenge. While everyone agreed that I made the best fitness shot of the day, it wasn't enough to win us that honour either.

The day was fun and the feedback from the teams was extremely positive. It was fun to organize and even more fun to be a part of. We'll be back next year - without the pressure to organize the day.

Hurry hard!