Hi folks,
I was missing in action for a bit there but I'm back now. I am fine and so is Doug but, due to a rather difficult loss in the family, we ended up with an unexpected week off at home which gave us lots to time together and gave me lots of time to think.
Think about health and fitness and family and priorities.
And I made some decisions.
I decided that I not going to run the Niagara Falls half marathon at the end of October. Yes, I had built myself back up to 20k and was running well. Yes, it's already taper time so technically the hardest runs are already behind me. But I decided that I didn't want to make this run a priority over the next few weekends. It made more sense to commit a bit more time to family right now.
I also decided that I don't have to blog every week from Monday to Friday. I have been doing that for a few years now and I love it. But last week I simply stopped doing it because we had more important things to focus on. I missed it but I was glad that I didn't have to make time to write every day on days when it would have been hard to do that. So I plan to continue with Running on Carbs. I love writing it. I love knowing that other people out there read it and get something from it, but I won't worry so much if I can't write something every single day.
I decided that I really like golf. Doug and I had several hours free every day so we managed to get on the golf course almost every day last week. I logged a lot of kilometres in my golf shoes, I topped up my vitamin D levels and I might have even improved my game a bit in the process. Some people find golf frustrating. I discovered that the golf course is one of the most healing places to be.
I decided to sign up for curling again. Partly for the joy of playing a sport that I love. Mostly for the friendships that come with it.
I decided to try to call my parents more often. I decided to take a bit of time to make healthy meals with lots of leftovers for lunches and those hectic days when it's tough to cook for dinner. I decided to initiate more get togethers with friends. I decided to do a lot of things, most of them small, most of them not even noticeable to others, because I was reminded once again how fragile and how fleeting life can be.
Showing posts with label life. Show all posts
Showing posts with label life. Show all posts
Tuesday, September 30, 2014
Sunday, January 1, 2012
The First Day
I love even numbers so the year 2012 looks, in my humble opinion, much prettier than 2011.
2011 had some redeeming qualities - if you add up all the numbers (2+1+1) you get four which is the best number going.
2012 is pretty cool because if you take the 12 and multiply it by the 2 you get 24. I love 24.
Anyway, happy new year folks!
I hope you all enjoyed the transition from 2011 to 2012 - whether you sat in your pyjamas and watched Sex and the City reruns with your cat or whether you crawled home at 4am with tinsel in your hair and a new friend named Raoul.
January first always feels like a fresh start. A clean slate.
I don't make resolutions today because I feel like I spend plenty of time during the rest of the year setting lofty goals for myself thank you very much. No need to make a new list just because everyone else is doing it.
Twenty-twelve holds plenty of promise and is already shaping up to be a year of fun times and memorable moments.
In a mere four days, the adventure begins. You see, I opened one of my presents on Christmas morning and discovered tickets to Billy Elliot. Pretty exciting! I love the theatre and Toronto is always fun to visit.
Doug suggested I read the tickets a little more closely.
Ok, tickets to Billy Elliot on January 6th. At the Imperial Theatre. Where's that?!?
...New York!!??
OMIGOD!
We're off to NYC for three days next week. Shopping, running (17 whole minutes!) in Central Park, theatres, art galleries and restaurants. I'm so excited!
February, my little sister and I are going on a makeup adventure. She is taking me to a half-day workshop in Toronto that teaches you all kinds of fun tricks. We figure we'll be the worst students in the class since we have no idea what the hell we're doing but it should be fun. February is also the month where I run a trivia night for a great group of people so I'll be spending all of my free time gathering 100 awesome questions. On top of that, I will hopefully have completed my return to running program and should be running 40 minutes to an hour by then. Right on time for minus 30 + windchill.
March is Around the Bay. I won't be running it this year since I won't be able to do that kind of distance yet but I'll be there. Doug's running it. So is Scully (I think? Are you running it Scully??). And so is Jeff - all the way from Boston.
April seems pretty quiet so far but I may try to run the Chocolate 10-miler - depending on how my legs are doing.
May is the Cabot Trail relay. Klari, our fearless Simcoe Shores organizer has set her sights on the Cabot Trail race - a 298km, 17 stage relay that takes runners through the Cape Breton highlands. It may take some convincing to get enough runners to sign on but I have a pretty good feeling that I'll be driving a van full of sweaty athletes around Cape Breton island.
June begins triathlon season and, with all the swimming I've been doing, I think I may give it a try. I'm not sure if I'll like open water swimming in large groups but there really is only one way to find out.
July is the first of two family weddings this year and Doug and I have been asked to be the photographers.
August is birthday month but beyond that bit of trivia we haven't got anything going on...yet.
September and October look pretty tame at the moment but I would like to run a 1/2 marathon at some point this year so that may be the time to do it. I also have a goal of getting to Israel within the next 15 months. Either September of 2012 or, even more fun, March of 2013 to run the Tel Aviv 1/2 marathon.
November is the New York Marathon. Doug has a guaranteed entry into the race thanks to his superb time at the Hamilton marathon. If I can convince him that he really does want to go to NYC twice in one year...we may be back there again. November is also my ten year diaversary. Anyone up for a celebratory party??
December is family wedding number two and the return of the Israelis for Christmas. Speaking of those two lovebirds - here is a link to Afterglow's blog if you want to see some of the wedding photos.
Life, as I know well enough, never goes as planned but the road ahead looks pretty appealing.
Welcome to 2012 folks. I hope the year is good to you and that, most importantly, it's full of good health and happiness.
2011 had some redeeming qualities - if you add up all the numbers (2+1+1) you get four which is the best number going.
2012 is pretty cool because if you take the 12 and multiply it by the 2 you get 24. I love 24.
Anyway, happy new year folks!
I hope you all enjoyed the transition from 2011 to 2012 - whether you sat in your pyjamas and watched Sex and the City reruns with your cat or whether you crawled home at 4am with tinsel in your hair and a new friend named Raoul.
January first always feels like a fresh start. A clean slate.
I don't make resolutions today because I feel like I spend plenty of time during the rest of the year setting lofty goals for myself thank you very much. No need to make a new list just because everyone else is doing it.
Twenty-twelve holds plenty of promise and is already shaping up to be a year of fun times and memorable moments.
In a mere four days, the adventure begins. You see, I opened one of my presents on Christmas morning and discovered tickets to Billy Elliot. Pretty exciting! I love the theatre and Toronto is always fun to visit.
Doug suggested I read the tickets a little more closely.
Ok, tickets to Billy Elliot on January 6th. At the Imperial Theatre. Where's that?!?
...New York!!??
OMIGOD!
We're off to NYC for three days next week. Shopping, running (17 whole minutes!) in Central Park, theatres, art galleries and restaurants. I'm so excited!
February, my little sister and I are going on a makeup adventure. She is taking me to a half-day workshop in Toronto that teaches you all kinds of fun tricks. We figure we'll be the worst students in the class since we have no idea what the hell we're doing but it should be fun. February is also the month where I run a trivia night for a great group of people so I'll be spending all of my free time gathering 100 awesome questions. On top of that, I will hopefully have completed my return to running program and should be running 40 minutes to an hour by then. Right on time for minus 30 + windchill.
March is Around the Bay. I won't be running it this year since I won't be able to do that kind of distance yet but I'll be there. Doug's running it. So is Scully (I think? Are you running it Scully??). And so is Jeff - all the way from Boston.
April seems pretty quiet so far but I may try to run the Chocolate 10-miler - depending on how my legs are doing.
May is the Cabot Trail relay. Klari, our fearless Simcoe Shores organizer has set her sights on the Cabot Trail race - a 298km, 17 stage relay that takes runners through the Cape Breton highlands. It may take some convincing to get enough runners to sign on but I have a pretty good feeling that I'll be driving a van full of sweaty athletes around Cape Breton island.
June begins triathlon season and, with all the swimming I've been doing, I think I may give it a try. I'm not sure if I'll like open water swimming in large groups but there really is only one way to find out.
July is the first of two family weddings this year and Doug and I have been asked to be the photographers.
August is birthday month but beyond that bit of trivia we haven't got anything going on...yet.
September and October look pretty tame at the moment but I would like to run a 1/2 marathon at some point this year so that may be the time to do it. I also have a goal of getting to Israel within the next 15 months. Either September of 2012 or, even more fun, March of 2013 to run the Tel Aviv 1/2 marathon.
November is the New York Marathon. Doug has a guaranteed entry into the race thanks to his superb time at the Hamilton marathon. If I can convince him that he really does want to go to NYC twice in one year...we may be back there again. November is also my ten year diaversary. Anyone up for a celebratory party??
December is family wedding number two and the return of the Israelis for Christmas. Speaking of those two lovebirds - here is a link to Afterglow's blog if you want to see some of the wedding photos.
Life, as I know well enough, never goes as planned but the road ahead looks pretty appealing.
Welcome to 2012 folks. I hope the year is good to you and that, most importantly, it's full of good health and happiness.
Saturday, December 31, 2011
The Last Day
Today is the last day of 2011. Which means we're spending tonight with some friends, enjoying the last big meal of the season, planning running relays for 2012, playing games and trying to keep our eyes open until 12:05am.
We'll see how well that goes.
Twenty-eleven was a roller coaster of a year. Some periods felt calm and predictable but, as I sat on my couch thinking back on the last twelve months, I was surprised how up and down the road actually was.
I started blogging in early 2011 - on a whim. I told no one for the first few weeks and simply wrote what was in my head, hit post and watched my stats to see what would happen. I got a reader or two every day - nothing exciting. Then I started looking for other type 1 runner bloggers out there. I found their blogs, made a few comments and they found mine. Along the way, I made a few friends. Scully was the first and, after exchanging a few emails, it wasn't long before we decided to meet up in person. Since then, we've trained together, shared diabetic tips and complained about everything diabetes together. Jeff is coming to Hamilton to run Around the Bay in March so we'll get to meet up too. Three type ones in one building - watch out world! Blogging opened up a whole new world for me and I'm so glad I listened to the little voice in my head to try it.
In 2011, I decided to try running all the way around the bay. It was a tough haul - training for 30k in the Canadian winter. Not for the faint of heart to be sure. I survived the training and I survived the race. I learned a lot about myself as a runner. I also learned a lot about long distance running and diabetes.
In April, Doug and I went to Boston. He ran the Boston marathon for the third time and I was inspired to try my hand at 42.2k. After the race we galavanted around Boston and Cape Cod. I discovered that I love oysters and I was reminded how much more peaceful I feel when I'm by the ocean.
The summer of 2011 was consumed with marathon training. The schedule was posted in the kitchen and it served as my guide, my motivation, my conscience and my ass-kicker.
I took it down in October - mere weeks before the race. I was sidelined with a stress fracture and would not be running the 2011 Niagara Falls International Marathon. Before I took it down, I snapped a photo. To remind me of how close I came to that start line and to serve as inspiration should I decide to try again.
Despite a gruelling running schedule, I was able to squeeze a few other activities into my summer. We went to Gravenhurst for a few days - to celebrate my birthday as well as the fact that we survived our second Simcoe Shores ultra distance relay.
We'll see how well that goes.
Twenty-eleven was a roller coaster of a year. Some periods felt calm and predictable but, as I sat on my couch thinking back on the last twelve months, I was surprised how up and down the road actually was.
I started blogging in early 2011 - on a whim. I told no one for the first few weeks and simply wrote what was in my head, hit post and watched my stats to see what would happen. I got a reader or two every day - nothing exciting. Then I started looking for other type 1 runner bloggers out there. I found their blogs, made a few comments and they found mine. Along the way, I made a few friends. Scully was the first and, after exchanging a few emails, it wasn't long before we decided to meet up in person. Since then, we've trained together, shared diabetic tips and complained about everything diabetes together. Jeff is coming to Hamilton to run Around the Bay in March so we'll get to meet up too. Three type ones in one building - watch out world! Blogging opened up a whole new world for me and I'm so glad I listened to the little voice in my head to try it.
In 2011, I decided to try running all the way around the bay. It was a tough haul - training for 30k in the Canadian winter. Not for the faint of heart to be sure. I survived the training and I survived the race. I learned a lot about myself as a runner. I also learned a lot about long distance running and diabetes.
In April, Doug and I went to Boston. He ran the Boston marathon for the third time and I was inspired to try my hand at 42.2k. After the race we galavanted around Boston and Cape Cod. I discovered that I love oysters and I was reminded how much more peaceful I feel when I'm by the ocean.
The summer of 2011 was consumed with marathon training. The schedule was posted in the kitchen and it served as my guide, my motivation, my conscience and my ass-kicker.
I took it down in October - mere weeks before the race. I was sidelined with a stress fracture and would not be running the 2011 Niagara Falls International Marathon. Before I took it down, I snapped a photo. To remind me of how close I came to that start line and to serve as inspiration should I decide to try again.
Despite a gruelling running schedule, I was able to squeeze a few other activities into my summer. We went to Gravenhurst for a few days - to celebrate my birthday as well as the fact that we survived our second Simcoe Shores ultra distance relay.
Simcoe Shores finish line.
Enjoying the breeze on the Seguin.
I learned a lot this year. I learned about friendship and I learned about death. I learned that life throws curveballs and to never take things for granted. I learned to swim and I learned to sit patiently with ice packs on my legs when all I wanted to do was run. I went to cheer my friends at Niagara Falls and discovered that I did have the strength to watch the race I was supposed to run.
Two weeks later, I cheered Doug on as he ran the Hamilton marathon.
The next morning, I went to the pool at 6am, swam two kilometres and realized that I was ok with not running.
Thank you everyone. For following along as I muse about life. For leaving comments. For understanding when I take a week off and don't write a word.
Thank you for being there.
Here's to 2012!
Friday, September 23, 2011
The Here and Now
It's fall marathon season.
I'm not just talking about running.
I'm talking about life.
Fall is the busiest time for me. Running-wise. Work-wise. Family-wise. Health-wise. I feel like I am running marathons in all parts of my life. All I keep doing is saying things like:
- one more report and things will calm down
- one more meeting to get through
- one more training session to lead
- one more 3+ hour run
- one more medical appointment
- one more birthday
I feel like all I've been doing lately is counting down.
ENOUGH!!
Counting down feels like I'm wishing time away. Time, in my opinion, is one of the most precious things we have and I never wish it away. Even when something exciting is coming up - a trip, a race, a party - I savour the anticipation rather than count down the days.
I'm one of those 'every day might be your last' kinda gals. Not that I think about death a lot - I just try hard to appreciate the here and now. There is no point in worrying about five years from now since you might not be here anyway.
So I'm putting a stop to my counting down the days, projects, kilometres or whatever other arbitrary variable that has me focused on the future rather than the present. I'm digging in my heals, putting on the brakes and slowing life down a bit.
I spent the evening cooking in a quiet kitchen, reading on the couch and sipping wine. Life slowed to a crawl and it was lovely.
As for my running news, here is an update on my strained calf muscle for those who are interested:
- Geoff is happy with my progress
- He taped my calf to help speed up the healing process and reduce the bruising he caused on Tuesday. Good thing because my leg was looking pretty nasty.
- I will not be running 35k on Saturday. As soon as that was out in the air, I felt a huge relief. Pressure's off. I will focus on resting, healing, doing some short runs and planning for the big one next weekend.
- I have to ice, heat, stretch ad nauseum and try a few easy runs before I see him next Tuesday
Without a four hour run looming, my Saturday suddenly seems very free. Perhaps I'll go for a bike ride? Explore the market? Take some pictures?
Whatever will I do with all my time...and energy?
Sunday, May 1, 2011
Health, Life, Love and Food
Every day is an experience.
My nature is a little Pollyanna-esque. Actually, it's very Pollyanna with a little dash of practicality, a pinch of whimsy and a dollop of twisted thrown in for fun.
The always look on the bright side of me really does see every day as a new adventure and an opportunity to experience as much as possible.
Today was a celebration of health, life, love and food.
It started off as most Sundays do with an early morning bike ride through Niagara. Today, eight of us showed up and we had a great ride (minus the funnel bugs that kept getting stuck in my eyelashes and lipbalm. Disgusting beyond belief. On our ride, we saw all sorts of uprooted trees and I learned after last Thursday to never ever plant blue spruce. For those of you who don't know, last Thursday we were hit with a terrible windstorm that ripped a roof off of a school, uprooted hundreds of trees, tore the huge letter A off the casino sign in Niagara Falls and shut down the Queenston Lewinston bridge for the first time in history. The wreckage is everywhere and shocking to see. It looks like a war zone in some places. And I learned from this experience that the root systems of blue spruces spread out rather than down so it doesn't take much to topple them.
Don't plant them!
The ride itself was great - just a little faster than comfortable but I pushed hard and kept up the pace the whole time. The blood sugar gods cooperated as well - always an added bonus. After our bike ride, we rushed home to watch the Ridley College students march right past our door - in full uniform complete with marching band. Not sure I would have wanted to do that at 13 but it was fun to see. Especially the poor kids with no rhythm who couldn't seem to march to the beat.
This afternoon, we were volunteers at the annual Hike for Hospice. Hospice is a wonderful place that offers end of life care for residents of Niagara. In a place that you would expect to be full of pain and sorrow is a hidden world full of love and life. Tears flow of course but so does love. I had the honour of photographing the event and spent the afternoon trying to capture the day without intruding on private moments.
The new Food and Drink magazine came out this week and, as usual, it's chock full of recipes just begging to be tried. So Japanese Chicken Curry was tonight's culinary adventure. Pretty tasty and the house smells like a gourmet restaurant. The best part about it was that I learned how to make real curry. Mixing about 10 different spices together to produce a delicious curry powder is pretty cool considering that, until tonight, I used to just buy premixed curry. Even the mortar and pestle were put to use.
Health, life, love and food.
Another good day in my books.
My nature is a little Pollyanna-esque. Actually, it's very Pollyanna with a little dash of practicality, a pinch of whimsy and a dollop of twisted thrown in for fun.
The always look on the bright side of me really does see every day as a new adventure and an opportunity to experience as much as possible.
Today was a celebration of health, life, love and food.
It started off as most Sundays do with an early morning bike ride through Niagara. Today, eight of us showed up and we had a great ride (minus the funnel bugs that kept getting stuck in my eyelashes and lipbalm. Disgusting beyond belief. On our ride, we saw all sorts of uprooted trees and I learned after last Thursday to never ever plant blue spruce. For those of you who don't know, last Thursday we were hit with a terrible windstorm that ripped a roof off of a school, uprooted hundreds of trees, tore the huge letter A off the casino sign in Niagara Falls and shut down the Queenston Lewinston bridge for the first time in history. The wreckage is everywhere and shocking to see. It looks like a war zone in some places. And I learned from this experience that the root systems of blue spruces spread out rather than down so it doesn't take much to topple them.
Don't plant them!
The ride itself was great - just a little faster than comfortable but I pushed hard and kept up the pace the whole time. The blood sugar gods cooperated as well - always an added bonus. After our bike ride, we rushed home to watch the Ridley College students march right past our door - in full uniform complete with marching band. Not sure I would have wanted to do that at 13 but it was fun to see. Especially the poor kids with no rhythm who couldn't seem to march to the beat.
This afternoon, we were volunteers at the annual Hike for Hospice. Hospice is a wonderful place that offers end of life care for residents of Niagara. In a place that you would expect to be full of pain and sorrow is a hidden world full of love and life. Tears flow of course but so does love. I had the honour of photographing the event and spent the afternoon trying to capture the day without intruding on private moments.
The new Food and Drink magazine came out this week and, as usual, it's chock full of recipes just begging to be tried. So Japanese Chicken Curry was tonight's culinary adventure. Pretty tasty and the house smells like a gourmet restaurant. The best part about it was that I learned how to make real curry. Mixing about 10 different spices together to produce a delicious curry powder is pretty cool considering that, until tonight, I used to just buy premixed curry. Even the mortar and pestle were put to use.
Health, life, love and food.
Another good day in my books.
Wednesday, April 6, 2011
The Kitten and the Crow
I was reading Oh She Glows, one of my favourite food blogs this morning, and Angela had a video posted. It was filmed a long time ago and Allan Thicke (the dad from Growing Pains) narrates. The story is about a wee kitten who was rescued by a kindly crow and the friendship that developed between them. If you have seven minutes, it's worth a watch.
The story has been rattling around in my head all morning. Partly because the kitten is just so damn cute and the scenes of the two animals interracting are wonderful. But mostly because it's such an unusual relationship. Sworn enemies that, for whatever reason, don't see or don't care about their differences. And they sure as hell don't care about what their friends might say as they stroll down the street together, tail in wing.
Perhaps they never learned that cats eat birds.
Or that birds should be really really afraid of cats.
I'm currently in the middle of a really good book called The Help. It's set in Mississipi during the Martin Luther King era and it's about three ladies (two are black and work as maids and one is white and trying to make a difference). The maids are responsible for, among other things, raising the children of their white employers. When the children are young, they love their nannies and see no difference between them and anyone else in the house. But, as their parents teach them the difference between black and white, the children develop prejudices and the cycle of racism continues. One nanny tries to teach the children that everyone is the same on the inside but she knows her words and stories can't compete with the reality of the situation. It's awful because she knows that one day her beloved little darling is going to hate her.
Maybe someone forgot to tell the crow that it should have let the kitten die lest the kitten grow up and kill him one day.
Maybe someone forgot to tell the kitten that crows are tasty snacks.
Maybe we could all learn a lesson from them.
Forget our differences. Let's share a worm and a plate of cat food and take a stroll down the street together.
The story has been rattling around in my head all morning. Partly because the kitten is just so damn cute and the scenes of the two animals interracting are wonderful. But mostly because it's such an unusual relationship. Sworn enemies that, for whatever reason, don't see or don't care about their differences. And they sure as hell don't care about what their friends might say as they stroll down the street together, tail in wing.
Perhaps they never learned that cats eat birds.
Or that birds should be really really afraid of cats.
I'm currently in the middle of a really good book called The Help. It's set in Mississipi during the Martin Luther King era and it's about three ladies (two are black and work as maids and one is white and trying to make a difference). The maids are responsible for, among other things, raising the children of their white employers. When the children are young, they love their nannies and see no difference between them and anyone else in the house. But, as their parents teach them the difference between black and white, the children develop prejudices and the cycle of racism continues. One nanny tries to teach the children that everyone is the same on the inside but she knows her words and stories can't compete with the reality of the situation. It's awful because she knows that one day her beloved little darling is going to hate her.
Maybe someone forgot to tell the crow that it should have let the kitten die lest the kitten grow up and kill him one day.
Maybe someone forgot to tell the kitten that crows are tasty snacks.
Maybe we could all learn a lesson from them.
Forget our differences. Let's share a worm and a plate of cat food and take a stroll down the street together.
Friday, April 1, 2011
I Choose Life
I run to keep the diabetes monsters at bay.
I cycle so that the side effects of this insidious disease can't catch me.
I walk to keep my blood sugars under control.
These reasons are very true and they get me out of bed on dark, cold winter mornings when I have to run for 2 hours. They are also what push me out the door when it's hot and humid and I have hill training to do.
Diabetes gets me moving because, truth be told, I'm scared of what might happen if I don't.
But once my shoes are on and I am outside, diabetes no longer plays a role in my motivation.
My love of exercise takes over and I run, cycle or walk because I love it. Because I love being outside in all weathers. I love exploring Niagara. I love feeling strong and capable. I love surprising myself with how much I can do.
I don't want to be grateful for diabetes.
I want to kick it in the ass.
Diabetes does not go away so I have two choices:
- accept diabetes and get on with my life
- let diabetes hang like a cloud over everything I do.
I choose life.
So I guess I have to be grateful for diabetes for forcing me to decide what is important to me. Some people are never forced to make that decision and, as a result, life just moves quietly along...
Diabetes forces me to make that decision every day. Will I choose life? Will I take care of my body today so that I can keep it strong enough to fight. Thanks to diabetes, I have built amazing friendships with people who share a love of fitness and the outdoors. I have run thousands of kilometers and cycled for countless hours. I have crossed finish lines and have a dresser top covered in medals. I am fit, healthy, strong and happy.
Before diabetes, I exercised because I felt like I should.
Since diabetes, I exercise because I can.
And for that I am so very grateful.
“This post is my March entry in the DSMA Blog Carnival. If you’d like to participate too, you can get all of the information at http://diabetessocmed.com/2011/march-dsma-blog-carnival“
I cycle so that the side effects of this insidious disease can't catch me.
I walk to keep my blood sugars under control.
These reasons are very true and they get me out of bed on dark, cold winter mornings when I have to run for 2 hours. They are also what push me out the door when it's hot and humid and I have hill training to do.
Diabetes gets me moving because, truth be told, I'm scared of what might happen if I don't.
But once my shoes are on and I am outside, diabetes no longer plays a role in my motivation.
My love of exercise takes over and I run, cycle or walk because I love it. Because I love being outside in all weathers. I love exploring Niagara. I love feeling strong and capable. I love surprising myself with how much I can do.
I don't want to be grateful for diabetes.
I want to kick it in the ass.
Diabetes does not go away so I have two choices:
- accept diabetes and get on with my life
- let diabetes hang like a cloud over everything I do.
I choose life.
So I guess I have to be grateful for diabetes for forcing me to decide what is important to me. Some people are never forced to make that decision and, as a result, life just moves quietly along...
Diabetes forces me to make that decision every day. Will I choose life? Will I take care of my body today so that I can keep it strong enough to fight. Thanks to diabetes, I have built amazing friendships with people who share a love of fitness and the outdoors. I have run thousands of kilometers and cycled for countless hours. I have crossed finish lines and have a dresser top covered in medals. I am fit, healthy, strong and happy.
Before diabetes, I exercised because I felt like I should.
Since diabetes, I exercise because I can.
And for that I am so very grateful.
“This post is my March entry in the DSMA Blog Carnival. If you’d like to participate too, you can get all of the information at http://diabetessocmed.com/2011/march-dsma-blog-carnival“
Thursday, March 31, 2011
Self-Cleaning Ovens
What makes one day so different from the next?
Why do my reactions to things change from day to day? My patience level? My ability to handle change or my ability to focus on the moment?
Tonight I cleaned the oven. Mixed together a potion of baking soda, vinegar and dish soap. Donned my pink rubber gloves. Put on Canada Live on CBC (k'naan was performing). I scrubbed the oven and all of its parts. It took an hour.
Did I mention it was a self-cleaning oven?
Tonight, I just needed a mindless task to do for a while with an end result that was immediately evident. Open the oven door and it's really damn clean in there. Mission accomplished.
Ask me to clean the oven tomorrow and you may get a very different result. Because normally I do not have patience for such tasks. I hate the idea of taking on a job that takes a long time to finish. A job that takes a long time and is finicky is even harder to tolerate. Painting a room had better take less than one day or I'm outta there. Building a deck had better not drag on for more than one weekend or I'm fed up and don't even get me started on the idea of renovating an entire room. Three days in and I'll be fit to be tied.
You will never catch me knitting, sewing, painting, drawing, crocheting a rug or building a model car.
I have patience for people but not for tasks.
...well, most of the time.
Because apparently today was a good day to clean the oven.
So why are days different? We are who we are yet our abilities to cope, to face challenges or just enjoy a moment change from day to day.
There are the easy answers: fluctuating hormone levels, amount of sleep or exercise, hunger, room temperature or blood sugar level. There are the more complicated answers: stress level, horrible past experience with cleaning ovens or painting rooms, how our day at work went.
But it's more than that. I can have a horrible day at work and come home in a great mood. I can have a great day at work, come home and have no patience for the sound of the radio playing in the kitchen.
I'm pretty in tune with my body because I have to be. I have learned that there typically is a very reasonable explanation whenever my body feels 'out of sorts'. I can recognize when my blood sugar is out of whack, when my iron is low and when my diet is missing something. I make a change and things settle down again.
I'm trying to get better at being in tune with my emotions but I can't always figure out why I have patience one day and not the next. Why I can tolerate background music one day and not the next. Why it's easy to be in the moment some days and why I can't focus other days.
It would be easy if all I had to do was drink more milk or take an iron pill. Instead, I need to get better at taking a deep breath, taking stock of the situation and understanding why it is that I feel frustrated, impatient or frazzled.
Or why today was a good day to clean the oven.
Why do my reactions to things change from day to day? My patience level? My ability to handle change or my ability to focus on the moment?
Tonight I cleaned the oven. Mixed together a potion of baking soda, vinegar and dish soap. Donned my pink rubber gloves. Put on Canada Live on CBC (k'naan was performing). I scrubbed the oven and all of its parts. It took an hour.
Did I mention it was a self-cleaning oven?
Tonight, I just needed a mindless task to do for a while with an end result that was immediately evident. Open the oven door and it's really damn clean in there. Mission accomplished.
Ask me to clean the oven tomorrow and you may get a very different result. Because normally I do not have patience for such tasks. I hate the idea of taking on a job that takes a long time to finish. A job that takes a long time and is finicky is even harder to tolerate. Painting a room had better take less than one day or I'm outta there. Building a deck had better not drag on for more than one weekend or I'm fed up and don't even get me started on the idea of renovating an entire room. Three days in and I'll be fit to be tied.
You will never catch me knitting, sewing, painting, drawing, crocheting a rug or building a model car.
I have patience for people but not for tasks.
...well, most of the time.
Because apparently today was a good day to clean the oven.
So why are days different? We are who we are yet our abilities to cope, to face challenges or just enjoy a moment change from day to day.
There are the easy answers: fluctuating hormone levels, amount of sleep or exercise, hunger, room temperature or blood sugar level. There are the more complicated answers: stress level, horrible past experience with cleaning ovens or painting rooms, how our day at work went.
But it's more than that. I can have a horrible day at work and come home in a great mood. I can have a great day at work, come home and have no patience for the sound of the radio playing in the kitchen.
I'm pretty in tune with my body because I have to be. I have learned that there typically is a very reasonable explanation whenever my body feels 'out of sorts'. I can recognize when my blood sugar is out of whack, when my iron is low and when my diet is missing something. I make a change and things settle down again.
I'm trying to get better at being in tune with my emotions but I can't always figure out why I have patience one day and not the next. Why I can tolerate background music one day and not the next. Why it's easy to be in the moment some days and why I can't focus other days.
It would be easy if all I had to do was drink more milk or take an iron pill. Instead, I need to get better at taking a deep breath, taking stock of the situation and understanding why it is that I feel frustrated, impatient or frazzled.
Or why today was a good day to clean the oven.
Monday, March 21, 2011
The Runner's Circle
Six more sleeps until Around the Bay and my first attempt to run 30k.
All runners face doubts when they tackle a new distance. Can I do it? Do I physically have what it takes to run that far? Will my shins hold up? My feet? My calves? My shoulders? Am I mentally prepared to run when I don't want to run anymore? Run when I don't think I can run anymore?
Oh, and don't forget the never-ending concerns about misbehaving blood sugars, having enough fast acting carbs and insulin pump mishaps. Did I mention that I won't have my beloved support team with me on race day?
That's when the really scary thoughts creep in. What if I can't do it? I mean really can't do it?
Ugh!
Races are ridiculous. I sign up for them because they motivate me to train. I focus on them and that feeling I'll have when I cross the finish line. I wear the race shirts with pride and have all my finisher's medals on my dresser.
And yet I don't really like races all that much. What I really love is the training. I love my solitary runs on Tuesday nights. I love the long runs on Saturday mornings that get a little longer each week. I love knowing that I'm getting stronger and that distances that seemed overwhelming during my last training are a little easier this time around. I love that my shins and calves held up a few weeks longer this time before they started to scream.
I don't really care about the race. Sure, the camaraderie is fun and being part of something historic is exciting but, in many ways, it's rather anticlimatic. Twelve weeks of work culminate in 3 1/2 hours of running and then it's over. Another medal, another bib number, another race checked off the list.
When I ran my first half marathon, I went home afterwards and sat in my ice bath nursing my cup of coffee. To celebrate, my partner at the time put on the song that I had played after every long run during my training.
And I burst into tears.
I felt so lost now that the race was over. Now what was I going to do?
Thankfully, I've become a little less emotional since then. I now look forward to my two weeks off after a race and I look forward to starting a new training schedule with fresh legs and a new race on the horizon. Crossing a finish line is no longer the end of the world - it's just the end of the race.
This time next week, I'll be enjoying my post-race day off. I'll be walking kinda funny, drinking lots of water and enjoying one, maybe two, well deserved naps. I probably won't collapse into tears sitting in a bathtub full of ice water, wearing a sweatshirt and hat and nursing my hot cup of coffee (seriously, how pitiful is that image?) but I will wander around like a lost puppy for a few days. Thankfully, I now know what to expect before, during and after a race.
Sign up
Train
Race
Recover
Repeat
It's the circle of life Simba.
The life of a runner that is.
All runners face doubts when they tackle a new distance. Can I do it? Do I physically have what it takes to run that far? Will my shins hold up? My feet? My calves? My shoulders? Am I mentally prepared to run when I don't want to run anymore? Run when I don't think I can run anymore?
Oh, and don't forget the never-ending concerns about misbehaving blood sugars, having enough fast acting carbs and insulin pump mishaps. Did I mention that I won't have my beloved support team with me on race day?
That's when the really scary thoughts creep in. What if I can't do it? I mean really can't do it?
Ugh!
Races are ridiculous. I sign up for them because they motivate me to train. I focus on them and that feeling I'll have when I cross the finish line. I wear the race shirts with pride and have all my finisher's medals on my dresser.
And yet I don't really like races all that much. What I really love is the training. I love my solitary runs on Tuesday nights. I love the long runs on Saturday mornings that get a little longer each week. I love knowing that I'm getting stronger and that distances that seemed overwhelming during my last training are a little easier this time around. I love that my shins and calves held up a few weeks longer this time before they started to scream.
I don't really care about the race. Sure, the camaraderie is fun and being part of something historic is exciting but, in many ways, it's rather anticlimatic. Twelve weeks of work culminate in 3 1/2 hours of running and then it's over. Another medal, another bib number, another race checked off the list.
When I ran my first half marathon, I went home afterwards and sat in my ice bath nursing my cup of coffee. To celebrate, my partner at the time put on the song that I had played after every long run during my training.
And I burst into tears.
I felt so lost now that the race was over. Now what was I going to do?
Thankfully, I've become a little less emotional since then. I now look forward to my two weeks off after a race and I look forward to starting a new training schedule with fresh legs and a new race on the horizon. Crossing a finish line is no longer the end of the world - it's just the end of the race.
This time next week, I'll be enjoying my post-race day off. I'll be walking kinda funny, drinking lots of water and enjoying one, maybe two, well deserved naps. I probably won't collapse into tears sitting in a bathtub full of ice water, wearing a sweatshirt and hat and nursing my hot cup of coffee (seriously, how pitiful is that image?) but I will wander around like a lost puppy for a few days. Thankfully, I now know what to expect before, during and after a race.
Sign up
Train
Race
Recover
Repeat
It's the circle of life Simba.
The life of a runner that is.
Sunday, March 20, 2011
Low Maintenance?
I like to think that I'm a pretty low maintenance gal and I take pride in that fact. I went to France for two weeks with one carry-on suitcase for goodness sakes. We had everything we needed and didn't have to wait for checked luggage. It was awesome!
Problem is that I went to France in my pre-diabetes, pre-running, pre-photography life.
My reality now is such that neither my interests nor my chronic disease fit neatly into a carry-on suitcase anymore.
Case in point: yesterday I drove to Lockport, NY to meet up with some photography friends. We were going to photograph geese, herons and, if we were lucky, an eagle. I left at 11:30am and was planning to be home for a late dinner.
It took two trips to the car to bring all my stuff. Two camera bags and one tripod for the photographer in me. A snack bag with a cliff bar, larabar, banana, apple, dates, and packs of fast acting carbs for the diabetic. Three bottles of water for the athlete. Hiking boots, gloves, coffee, maps, and passport for the traveller. All that for one afternoon.
What the hell am I going to do when I go to Boston for a week? For that trip, I will be a photographer, diabetic, runner and tourist. We're going to have to add running clothes, running snacks, electrolytes, glide, TriggerPoint, laundry soap, maps and books to the mix. That's a lot of stuff. Throw in a few sweatshirts and a heavy jacket for Cape Cod weather and we're going to need to rent a bus!
Thank goodness I don't wear makeup or feel the need to pack five pairs of shoes or eight different outfits.
Pre-diabetes, I never owned a purse and would just pop my wallet in my back pocket, lip gloss and keys in my front pocket and head out the door. Part of me would like to go back to those easy, carefree days.
But, let's be honest folks, my purse is not full of diabetic supplies. They're there but I have to dig through the hand cream, lip gloss, Swiss Army knives (yep, two of them!), wallet, and pile of other things to find them.
Perhaps I'm just fooling myself re the whole low maintenance persona? Maybe I am just a high maintenance person in denial?
While I'm deciding, if you need anything, just come find me during a run, photoshoot, or diabetic emergency. I'm sure to have it and am always happy to share.
Problem is that I went to France in my pre-diabetes, pre-running, pre-photography life.
My reality now is such that neither my interests nor my chronic disease fit neatly into a carry-on suitcase anymore.
Case in point: yesterday I drove to Lockport, NY to meet up with some photography friends. We were going to photograph geese, herons and, if we were lucky, an eagle. I left at 11:30am and was planning to be home for a late dinner.
It took two trips to the car to bring all my stuff. Two camera bags and one tripod for the photographer in me. A snack bag with a cliff bar, larabar, banana, apple, dates, and packs of fast acting carbs for the diabetic. Three bottles of water for the athlete. Hiking boots, gloves, coffee, maps, and passport for the traveller. All that for one afternoon.
What the hell am I going to do when I go to Boston for a week? For that trip, I will be a photographer, diabetic, runner and tourist. We're going to have to add running clothes, running snacks, electrolytes, glide, TriggerPoint, laundry soap, maps and books to the mix. That's a lot of stuff. Throw in a few sweatshirts and a heavy jacket for Cape Cod weather and we're going to need to rent a bus!
Thank goodness I don't wear makeup or feel the need to pack five pairs of shoes or eight different outfits.
Pre-diabetes, I never owned a purse and would just pop my wallet in my back pocket, lip gloss and keys in my front pocket and head out the door. Part of me would like to go back to those easy, carefree days.
But, let's be honest folks, my purse is not full of diabetic supplies. They're there but I have to dig through the hand cream, lip gloss, Swiss Army knives (yep, two of them!), wallet, and pile of other things to find them.
Perhaps I'm just fooling myself re the whole low maintenance persona? Maybe I am just a high maintenance person in denial?
While I'm deciding, if you need anything, just come find me during a run, photoshoot, or diabetic emergency. I'm sure to have it and am always happy to share.
Wednesday, March 16, 2011
Sláinte!
The luck of the Irish is a phrase that will be often repeated this week. St. Patrick's Day is tomorrow and with it comes green beer, shamrocks, leprechauns and all sorts of Irish sayings that seem to get funnier with each passing year.
At least to me.
I come from good strong Irish stock. My mother was born in Ireland. Her father, my grandfather Seamus, came over to Canada looking for work. Once he was settled in Toronto, he sent for my grandmother Maggie and their three children. They boarded the ship, waved goodbye to their beloved green island and sailed off to Canada, landing at Pier 21 and making their way to Toronto. My mother was eight - red hair, blue eyes and freckles.
I like to think that luck crosses oceans because our family seems to have their fair share of it, despite being so far from the Emerald Isle. As my sister once put so beautifully: we all have horseshoes up our @$$#$! Never for big things like lottery winnings but we just seem to be a little bit luckier than others.
Lucky enough that I have learned to rely on it when I make decisions. If I'm not sure about something, I'll weigh all the factors but also be confident that I can count on a wee sprinkling of faerie dust to tip things in my favour.
Since it's such a big part of my life, I think a lot about luck and what it really means. There's the luck that happens at slot machines and black jack tables. I don't have that kind (which is probably a good thing). I have the kind where I go for a run and find a $20 bill lying on the ground in the middle of nowhere. I'm the person who randomly walks into a store the one day a year that the item I'm looking for is 80% off. The occasional week that I chose to do my long run on my own, it will almost invariably be lovely weather and the next morning, when the rest of the runners head out, it will be pouring rain.
Sometimes I think that it might be more about attitude and observation skills than about real leprechaun magic. Maybe ten people walked by the $20 bill before I did and I just paid more attention and found it. Maybe I think I get lovely weather when I run because I don't mind wind, rain and cold. Maybe things always work out because I have a naturally positive outlook on life so endings, even bad ones, don't really seem so bad.
Or maybe I have a one of the wee folk looking out for me, tasked with the job of keeping me safe, healthy and happy.
I take great comfort in either option.
And tomorrow, this little Irish lass will raise a glass to the green hills, soaring cliffs and hidden glens of the country that still calls to her from across the sea.
Sláinte!
At least to me.
I come from good strong Irish stock. My mother was born in Ireland. Her father, my grandfather Seamus, came over to Canada looking for work. Once he was settled in Toronto, he sent for my grandmother Maggie and their three children. They boarded the ship, waved goodbye to their beloved green island and sailed off to Canada, landing at Pier 21 and making their way to Toronto. My mother was eight - red hair, blue eyes and freckles.
I like to think that luck crosses oceans because our family seems to have their fair share of it, despite being so far from the Emerald Isle. As my sister once put so beautifully: we all have horseshoes up our @$$#$! Never for big things like lottery winnings but we just seem to be a little bit luckier than others.
Lucky enough that I have learned to rely on it when I make decisions. If I'm not sure about something, I'll weigh all the factors but also be confident that I can count on a wee sprinkling of faerie dust to tip things in my favour.
Since it's such a big part of my life, I think a lot about luck and what it really means. There's the luck that happens at slot machines and black jack tables. I don't have that kind (which is probably a good thing). I have the kind where I go for a run and find a $20 bill lying on the ground in the middle of nowhere. I'm the person who randomly walks into a store the one day a year that the item I'm looking for is 80% off. The occasional week that I chose to do my long run on my own, it will almost invariably be lovely weather and the next morning, when the rest of the runners head out, it will be pouring rain.
Sometimes I think that it might be more about attitude and observation skills than about real leprechaun magic. Maybe ten people walked by the $20 bill before I did and I just paid more attention and found it. Maybe I think I get lovely weather when I run because I don't mind wind, rain and cold. Maybe things always work out because I have a naturally positive outlook on life so endings, even bad ones, don't really seem so bad.
Or maybe I have a one of the wee folk looking out for me, tasked with the job of keeping me safe, healthy and happy.
I take great comfort in either option.
And tomorrow, this little Irish lass will raise a glass to the green hills, soaring cliffs and hidden glens of the country that still calls to her from across the sea.
Sláinte!
Tuesday, March 15, 2011
Waxing Philosophical
I don't often know what I'm going to blog about until I actually open the 'new post' window. Then I sit for a second and something from the last day or so pops into my head, asking very clearly to be written about.
Today's topic: what happens to love when the harsh light of reality shines down on it?
This is probably a good time to clearly state that this question is not one that I am personally struggling with. I am quite warm and happy in my little cocoon of love thank you very much so, please, nobody panic!
The love/reality question came up during a wonderful dinner last night with a really good friend. One of those dinners where the wine and conversation flow and the things that were talked about are still reverberating in my head the next day.
So, back to love and reality.
First there is love. That connection that happens with another person that sets them apart from everyone else. It's physical, it's emotional, it's visceral.
Exciting
Comforting
You just want to be with the other person. All the time. No matter what. Consequences be damned!
Then...reality comes marching in.
What if they live in another city? Another country?
What if they live with another person? Are married to someone else? Are someone of a different colour, age, gender or religion than society expects you to be with? Make tons more money than you? Make way less than you? Want kids but you don't?
I could go on.
Many of these challenges are really only little stepping stones that you can both hop along together. Negotiating them helps make the relationship stronger as you learn to communicate and negotiate.
Other challenges are....well, they're challenges. Overcoming these challenges will be life-changing for everyone involved. It will take time and effort and the end results are not guaranteed.
What do you do? Do you wait for the other person? If so, for how long? Do you defy society and proclaim your love despite the reactions that may cause? Do you move to be with them? Give up your dream of having children?
With every decision, compromise and change - will the love you share grow stronger or will it begin to crumble?
I find topics like this fascinating to discuss...unless I'm actually living them. Then it's agonizing because there are no answers. Loving someone means taking a risk. Opening yourself up means taking a risk. Waiting for someone, moving in with someone, having children with someone are all risks. The rewards might be wonderful but there is no guarantee.
When it works - it's beautiful.
When it doesn't - it's heartbreaking.
And that, my friends, is love.
Today's topic: what happens to love when the harsh light of reality shines down on it?
This is probably a good time to clearly state that this question is not one that I am personally struggling with. I am quite warm and happy in my little cocoon of love thank you very much so, please, nobody panic!
The love/reality question came up during a wonderful dinner last night with a really good friend. One of those dinners where the wine and conversation flow and the things that were talked about are still reverberating in my head the next day.
So, back to love and reality.
First there is love. That connection that happens with another person that sets them apart from everyone else. It's physical, it's emotional, it's visceral.
Exciting
Comforting
You just want to be with the other person. All the time. No matter what. Consequences be damned!
Then...reality comes marching in.
What if they live in another city? Another country?
What if they live with another person? Are married to someone else? Are someone of a different colour, age, gender or religion than society expects you to be with? Make tons more money than you? Make way less than you? Want kids but you don't?
I could go on.
Many of these challenges are really only little stepping stones that you can both hop along together. Negotiating them helps make the relationship stronger as you learn to communicate and negotiate.
Other challenges are....well, they're challenges. Overcoming these challenges will be life-changing for everyone involved. It will take time and effort and the end results are not guaranteed.
What do you do? Do you wait for the other person? If so, for how long? Do you defy society and proclaim your love despite the reactions that may cause? Do you move to be with them? Give up your dream of having children?
With every decision, compromise and change - will the love you share grow stronger or will it begin to crumble?
I find topics like this fascinating to discuss...unless I'm actually living them. Then it's agonizing because there are no answers. Loving someone means taking a risk. Opening yourself up means taking a risk. Waiting for someone, moving in with someone, having children with someone are all risks. The rewards might be wonderful but there is no guarantee.
When it works - it's beautiful.
When it doesn't - it's heartbreaking.
And that, my friends, is love.
Monday, March 14, 2011
The Detailed Answer
I work with people who have disabilities. All sorts of disabilities. Some people are in a wheelchair and some use crutches or walkers. Others have difficulty communicating. Many have some sort of mental health concern and all have a developmental disability.
I spend a lot of time trying to put myself in other people's shoes. Trying to imagine what it would be like to try to learn how to cook if I couldn't read, couldn't follow directions and had difficulty problem solving. Trying to imagine how scary it might be to learn how to take the city bus if I had mobility issues or difficulty with directions or depth perception. Trying to imagine how much courage it would take to face the world every day if I looked different, talked differently or processed things differently than other people.
I try hard to imagine. But I know I can't possibly come close to understanding.
Just like no one can come close to understanding what it's like to live with diabetes. Because what it looks like on the outside is only a shadow of what's going on in the inside. People see the blood testing, the insulin pump, the packs of fast acting carbs that I carry. They don't see the constant processing of information and weighing of variables that must happen to stay, as much as possible, in the 'safe' zone.
Ever had someone ask you what you were thinking? I do that a lot to people. It does not always go over well (trust me!) but it does provide some interesting insight into their thought processes. Especially if your next question is "how did you start thinking about that?".
Ask someone with a disability how they prepare a meal. Ask them how they know when to ring the bell to get off the bus or how they tell the difference between a $10 and a $20 bill. Ask someone in a wheelchair what they have to think about if they want to go out for coffee with a friend. Chances are the way that they look at the world and the things that they have to think about will surprise you.
Ask someone with diabetes why their blood sugar was high or low or ask them how they are going to calculate their next insulin bolus. Specify that you want the detailed answer not the simple one. And then pull up a chair and prepare to learn a lot about food, fibre, monthly cycles, types and length of exercise, insulin stacking, illness, intuition and witchcraft.
Ask someone you love why they love you. Ask for the detailed answer. It might just make your day.
I spend a lot of time trying to put myself in other people's shoes. Trying to imagine what it would be like to try to learn how to cook if I couldn't read, couldn't follow directions and had difficulty problem solving. Trying to imagine how scary it might be to learn how to take the city bus if I had mobility issues or difficulty with directions or depth perception. Trying to imagine how much courage it would take to face the world every day if I looked different, talked differently or processed things differently than other people.
I try hard to imagine. But I know I can't possibly come close to understanding.
Just like no one can come close to understanding what it's like to live with diabetes. Because what it looks like on the outside is only a shadow of what's going on in the inside. People see the blood testing, the insulin pump, the packs of fast acting carbs that I carry. They don't see the constant processing of information and weighing of variables that must happen to stay, as much as possible, in the 'safe' zone.
Ever had someone ask you what you were thinking? I do that a lot to people. It does not always go over well (trust me!) but it does provide some interesting insight into their thought processes. Especially if your next question is "how did you start thinking about that?".
Ask someone with a disability how they prepare a meal. Ask them how they know when to ring the bell to get off the bus or how they tell the difference between a $10 and a $20 bill. Ask someone in a wheelchair what they have to think about if they want to go out for coffee with a friend. Chances are the way that they look at the world and the things that they have to think about will surprise you.
Ask someone with diabetes why their blood sugar was high or low or ask them how they are going to calculate their next insulin bolus. Specify that you want the detailed answer not the simple one. And then pull up a chair and prepare to learn a lot about food, fibre, monthly cycles, types and length of exercise, insulin stacking, illness, intuition and witchcraft.
Ask someone you love why they love you. Ask for the detailed answer. It might just make your day.
Tuesday, March 8, 2011
Playing the Diabetes Card
Having diabetes has its perks.
Ever been to a venue (concert, museum or whatever) and had your bag searched. Food confiscated? Not me! Mention the word diabetes and I can bring in whatever food I want. I bring in my friend's food too - who's gonna know?
Ever sat in a restaurant and waited forever for your order to arrive? Not me. All I have to do is say that I have diabetes, I've taken my insulin over 20 minutes ago and I really need to get my food. Next order up? Mine.
Extra drinks on the plane? No problem. I'm diabetic and I get really dehydrated. Can I have an extra drink? Two? Thanks!
Remember last year's H1N1 scare and the incredible lineups to get the vaccine? Remember when the clinics were only open to young children, seniors and those with compromised immune systems? Yay, front of the line baby!
Ever had a complete stranger notice you from across the room, stroll over and say hi? I have. All because they have an insulin pump too and want to share stories. I've also met complete strangers who were thinking about getting the pump and came over to ask me about it.
Not sure what the menu is at the wedding you're attending or the conference you're at? Find the chef and tell them you have diabetes. You'll know the entire menu, right down to the type of pasta used and how many chocolate shavings are on the tiramisu, before anyone else in the room. And you'll often get your food first because they know you gotta eat.
I eat anywhere, anytime, with blatant disregard for the rules. I've eaten standing on the curling ice in the middle of a game, during midnight mass, while making presentations, and directly under the "No Outside Food or Drink" signs in theatres and arenas. I know, I know, I'm such a rebel.
Diabetes is part of my life and it's not going anywhere so I might as well enjoy the perks. I don't play the diabetes card often but, when I do, it's pretty damn effective.
So remember, if you ever need someone to carry your peanut butter sandwich and bottle of juice through security, I'm your gal.
Ever been to a venue (concert, museum or whatever) and had your bag searched. Food confiscated? Not me! Mention the word diabetes and I can bring in whatever food I want. I bring in my friend's food too - who's gonna know?
Ever sat in a restaurant and waited forever for your order to arrive? Not me. All I have to do is say that I have diabetes, I've taken my insulin over 20 minutes ago and I really need to get my food. Next order up? Mine.
Extra drinks on the plane? No problem. I'm diabetic and I get really dehydrated. Can I have an extra drink? Two? Thanks!
Remember last year's H1N1 scare and the incredible lineups to get the vaccine? Remember when the clinics were only open to young children, seniors and those with compromised immune systems? Yay, front of the line baby!
Ever had a complete stranger notice you from across the room, stroll over and say hi? I have. All because they have an insulin pump too and want to share stories. I've also met complete strangers who were thinking about getting the pump and came over to ask me about it.
Not sure what the menu is at the wedding you're attending or the conference you're at? Find the chef and tell them you have diabetes. You'll know the entire menu, right down to the type of pasta used and how many chocolate shavings are on the tiramisu, before anyone else in the room. And you'll often get your food first because they know you gotta eat.
I eat anywhere, anytime, with blatant disregard for the rules. I've eaten standing on the curling ice in the middle of a game, during midnight mass, while making presentations, and directly under the "No Outside Food or Drink" signs in theatres and arenas. I know, I know, I'm such a rebel.
Diabetes is part of my life and it's not going anywhere so I might as well enjoy the perks. I don't play the diabetes card often but, when I do, it's pretty damn effective.
So remember, if you ever need someone to carry your peanut butter sandwich and bottle of juice through security, I'm your gal.
Monday, March 7, 2011
All the World's a Stage
I hosted a meeting today that I really enjoyed and it got me thinking. Thinking about the roles we play in this crazy theatre of life.
The meeting was with a group of ladies who all have a similar job to mine. The thing that ties us most closely together is that, in our respective agencies, we are the only ones who have that job. We do not have a team of colleagues that we can turn to for support, advice or the occasional griping session. We often work in isolation and most people in our agencies don't quite understand what we do.
Put us together in a room and it's absolutely cathartic. To be with people who understand, really understand, is such a gift.
And it got me thinking about the roles we play. As I started thinking about them, it began to feel like we just spend our lives moving from one stage to another. Not that I'm acting, or lying about who I am, just that I can't be everything for every person. It doesn't make sense to live life that way.
At home I am the loving partner, the unconditional friend, the kitchen mate and midnight confidante. At work, I am the rights advocate, staff trainer, accreditation queen and policy girl. There is very little overlap between those two worlds. I don't want there to be. But I also think that people from one world would be surprised to see me in the other. In many ways, I would be a stranger.
At the diabetes centre, I am the healthy, happy, active runner. They know nothing about my job, my love of cooking or the fact that I'm really into curling. At the running group, I'm the girl with the insulin pump who is slow but getting faster and who does a lot of the really long runs on her own. I am the big sister who gets the jokes and understands the traditions. I am the eldest daughter who helps solve computer problems, loves Sunday dinners and occasionally makes shocking announcements. At the bank, I am the competent customer with a good credit rating and at the bulk food store I am the quiet girl who buys a whole lot of dates, peanut butter and raisins.
I have some friends with whom I share a love of photography, of Buffy the Vampire Slayer, of the Outlander books or of red wine. I have some friends who share medical adventures, a love of Northern Ontario camping, a passion for theatre or an interest in biology. I am always me but I am always different. Everyone knows a part but no one knows the whole person.
We share what makes sense in each world that we're in. There is no point in talking about Buffy at home, the conversation would be rather one-sided. I'm not going to talk about policy development with my running group, they don't care. In each of our worlds, we find the common ground and build from there.
So today I spent the day with a group of ladies who know me like no one else does. It was nice.
Tonight, I'm spending the evening with the man who knows me like no one else does. That will also be nice.
Tomorrow, the next day and the day after that, I will spend time with people who know me as no one else does.
I wonder, if you put them all together, what I would look like.
The meeting was with a group of ladies who all have a similar job to mine. The thing that ties us most closely together is that, in our respective agencies, we are the only ones who have that job. We do not have a team of colleagues that we can turn to for support, advice or the occasional griping session. We often work in isolation and most people in our agencies don't quite understand what we do.
Put us together in a room and it's absolutely cathartic. To be with people who understand, really understand, is such a gift.
And it got me thinking about the roles we play. As I started thinking about them, it began to feel like we just spend our lives moving from one stage to another. Not that I'm acting, or lying about who I am, just that I can't be everything for every person. It doesn't make sense to live life that way.
At home I am the loving partner, the unconditional friend, the kitchen mate and midnight confidante. At work, I am the rights advocate, staff trainer, accreditation queen and policy girl. There is very little overlap between those two worlds. I don't want there to be. But I also think that people from one world would be surprised to see me in the other. In many ways, I would be a stranger.
At the diabetes centre, I am the healthy, happy, active runner. They know nothing about my job, my love of cooking or the fact that I'm really into curling. At the running group, I'm the girl with the insulin pump who is slow but getting faster and who does a lot of the really long runs on her own. I am the big sister who gets the jokes and understands the traditions. I am the eldest daughter who helps solve computer problems, loves Sunday dinners and occasionally makes shocking announcements. At the bank, I am the competent customer with a good credit rating and at the bulk food store I am the quiet girl who buys a whole lot of dates, peanut butter and raisins.
I have some friends with whom I share a love of photography, of Buffy the Vampire Slayer, of the Outlander books or of red wine. I have some friends who share medical adventures, a love of Northern Ontario camping, a passion for theatre or an interest in biology. I am always me but I am always different. Everyone knows a part but no one knows the whole person.
We share what makes sense in each world that we're in. There is no point in talking about Buffy at home, the conversation would be rather one-sided. I'm not going to talk about policy development with my running group, they don't care. In each of our worlds, we find the common ground and build from there.
So today I spent the day with a group of ladies who know me like no one else does. It was nice.
Tonight, I'm spending the evening with the man who knows me like no one else does. That will also be nice.
Tomorrow, the next day and the day after that, I will spend time with people who know me as no one else does.
I wonder, if you put them all together, what I would look like.
Sunday, February 20, 2011
An Opportunity Missed
I went to a funeral yesterday. For someone I didn't know.
At least not personally.
I had heard stories, lots and lots of stories, so I knew that he was quite a character. Loved fast, expensive cars. Money was no issue - he just had to have them. Loved wining and dining his friends and spoiled them with tickets to The Masters and other extravagances. Spontaneous, often unpredictable, known for his over the top shenanigans. That's the picture that had formed in my head from the stories I had heard.
Then I went to the funeral.
It was held at Ridley College. Standing room only. There was a shuttle bus to help get people from the distant parking lots to the chapel. As I was introduced to people, I began to understand how very narrow my view of this man had been.
As I listened to the three eulogies, I began to wish that I had had the opportunity to meet this man.
The first speaker had us in stitches as he spoke of the rebellious, brilliant, passionate young man who grew into a powerful, generous man of extremely high ethical standards. The second speaker spoke of a friendship that spanned decades and shaped lives. The third speaker, a notoriously cynical man, was reduced to tears as he spoke of the integrity, quality and commitment that this man inspired in others.
It was obvious by the end that every resident of St. Catharines has been affected by this man, whether they knew it or not.
I never met Henry Bartlett Burgoyne. But I wish I had.
At least not personally.
I had heard stories, lots and lots of stories, so I knew that he was quite a character. Loved fast, expensive cars. Money was no issue - he just had to have them. Loved wining and dining his friends and spoiled them with tickets to The Masters and other extravagances. Spontaneous, often unpredictable, known for his over the top shenanigans. That's the picture that had formed in my head from the stories I had heard.
Then I went to the funeral.
It was held at Ridley College. Standing room only. There was a shuttle bus to help get people from the distant parking lots to the chapel. As I was introduced to people, I began to understand how very narrow my view of this man had been.
As I listened to the three eulogies, I began to wish that I had had the opportunity to meet this man.
The first speaker had us in stitches as he spoke of the rebellious, brilliant, passionate young man who grew into a powerful, generous man of extremely high ethical standards. The second speaker spoke of a friendship that spanned decades and shaped lives. The third speaker, a notoriously cynical man, was reduced to tears as he spoke of the integrity, quality and commitment that this man inspired in others.
It was obvious by the end that every resident of St. Catharines has been affected by this man, whether they knew it or not.
I never met Henry Bartlett Burgoyne. But I wish I had.
Tuesday, February 8, 2011
This is What I Know
What I know:
I know that people almost always surpass their own expectations when they push themselves.
What I don't know:
I don't know what makes people push themselves?
I know that you can ask ten photographers to photograph the same subject and you'll get ten very different photos. I don't know what makes people look at the world so differently.
I know that there will be at large group of runners out on Saturday morning to run 22k. I don't know why some of them will have a fabulous time and others will complain about the cold for 2 hours.
I know that most people who get married do so expecting to be together forever. I don't know why half of those marriages won't survive.
I know that I see patterns everywhere but I don't know why those patterns exist.
We all start out essentially the same - naked, crying, covered in gooey stuff but it doesn't take long before we head off down our own path with blatant disregard for where other people might like us to go. Along the way, we touch, taste, smell, see and listen to the world as it molds and shapes us. By the time we are able to pick up our first camera - we have learned to experience the world in a way no one else does.
It's really quite amazing.
It also makes it a wee bit challenging when trying to understand someone else.
How people respond to challenges, grief, change, love, illness, snow or credit card bills isn't always clear or rational...at least to the outside observer. Expecting people to respond the way we would is not reasonable or fair. Yet our ability to understand and sympathize with another person's experience really depends on our own experiences up to that point. How do we see beyond our own view of the world in order to really see someone else's?
Therein lies the challenge.
I know that people almost always surpass their own expectations when they push themselves.
What I don't know:
I don't know what makes people push themselves?
I know that you can ask ten photographers to photograph the same subject and you'll get ten very different photos. I don't know what makes people look at the world so differently.
I know that there will be at large group of runners out on Saturday morning to run 22k. I don't know why some of them will have a fabulous time and others will complain about the cold for 2 hours.
I know that most people who get married do so expecting to be together forever. I don't know why half of those marriages won't survive.
I know that I see patterns everywhere but I don't know why those patterns exist.
We all start out essentially the same - naked, crying, covered in gooey stuff but it doesn't take long before we head off down our own path with blatant disregard for where other people might like us to go. Along the way, we touch, taste, smell, see and listen to the world as it molds and shapes us. By the time we are able to pick up our first camera - we have learned to experience the world in a way no one else does.
It's really quite amazing.
It also makes it a wee bit challenging when trying to understand someone else.
How people respond to challenges, grief, change, love, illness, snow or credit card bills isn't always clear or rational...at least to the outside observer. Expecting people to respond the way we would is not reasonable or fair. Yet our ability to understand and sympathize with another person's experience really depends on our own experiences up to that point. How do we see beyond our own view of the world in order to really see someone else's?
Therein lies the challenge.
Monday, February 7, 2011
The Yoga Approach
I have a pile of vacation to use up before March 31st. I thought about taking a week off and, trust me, it was pretty tempting. A week to play, try new recipes, sleep in, go for runs in the middle of the afternoon, meet my mom for lunch and just not think about work. Nothing to complain about there.
Instead, I opted for taking seven Fridays off.
Typically, I prefer big chunks of time off but, for some reason, the idea of having four day weeks for almost two months was pretty appealing. So today is the first day of my first four day week. Pretty freaking exciting!
By noon, I was already starting to second-guess my decision.
First of all, I found out about a fabulous videoconference being offered by Dave Hingsburger, an amazing disability advocate. It's called Pride and Prejudice: Getting Past Shame, Moving Into Rights. I would love to attend but guess when it's being offered? That's right - this Friday.
Then I got involved in a discussion about how to revamp our system for tracking staff training. It's a discussion that is long overdue and a lot of decisions need to be made in order to develop a system that will be effective, meet all of my requirements as the Quality Control girl and be easy for staff to update. No time to finish the discussion until, you guessed it, Friday.
I have to reschedule a CPR refresher that staff missed because of last week's snow day. The only dates that work for everyone are Fridays.
*sigh*
When I have a week off, I find it really easy to just waltz out the door and not look back.
I'm discovering that taking one day off a week may prove to be a challenge. When you're already used to working Fridays, it's easier to be convinced to come in to the office...just for a bit.
A few weeks back, I wrote about life life balance - trying to balance all of the people, interests and activities in my life. I'm guessing that the next seven weeks will be more of a work life balance struggle for me. Do I preserve my time off, refusing to come in on a Friday even if it means missing important meetings or key training opportunities? Or should I be willing to come in on days off if it means learning something new or being part of important decisions?
I want to stick to my guns and not set foot in the office on a Friday until my vacation runs out. And yet, people who see the world in black and white drive me batty so I should probably strive to be a little more flexible in my approach rather than walking around refusing to budge on the Friday thing.
On the other hand, it wouldn't be too hard to be convinced to come in every Friday because there will always be something that just HAS to get done...
Balance is never an easy thing to achieve, especially when new, unexpected and often attractive variables are thrown in to the mix. I think I'll try taking the yoga approach: flexibility, strength and balance. Flexibility to adapt to unexpected changes + strength to stand up and say no when necessary + balance to make sure I don't fall too far on either side of the work/life line.
Wish me luck!
Instead, I opted for taking seven Fridays off.
Typically, I prefer big chunks of time off but, for some reason, the idea of having four day weeks for almost two months was pretty appealing. So today is the first day of my first four day week. Pretty freaking exciting!
By noon, I was already starting to second-guess my decision.
First of all, I found out about a fabulous videoconference being offered by Dave Hingsburger, an amazing disability advocate. It's called Pride and Prejudice: Getting Past Shame, Moving Into Rights. I would love to attend but guess when it's being offered? That's right - this Friday.
Then I got involved in a discussion about how to revamp our system for tracking staff training. It's a discussion that is long overdue and a lot of decisions need to be made in order to develop a system that will be effective, meet all of my requirements as the Quality Control girl and be easy for staff to update. No time to finish the discussion until, you guessed it, Friday.
I have to reschedule a CPR refresher that staff missed because of last week's snow day. The only dates that work for everyone are Fridays.
*sigh*
When I have a week off, I find it really easy to just waltz out the door and not look back.
I'm discovering that taking one day off a week may prove to be a challenge. When you're already used to working Fridays, it's easier to be convinced to come in to the office...just for a bit.
A few weeks back, I wrote about life life balance - trying to balance all of the people, interests and activities in my life. I'm guessing that the next seven weeks will be more of a work life balance struggle for me. Do I preserve my time off, refusing to come in on a Friday even if it means missing important meetings or key training opportunities? Or should I be willing to come in on days off if it means learning something new or being part of important decisions?
I want to stick to my guns and not set foot in the office on a Friday until my vacation runs out. And yet, people who see the world in black and white drive me batty so I should probably strive to be a little more flexible in my approach rather than walking around refusing to budge on the Friday thing.
On the other hand, it wouldn't be too hard to be convinced to come in every Friday because there will always be something that just HAS to get done...
Balance is never an easy thing to achieve, especially when new, unexpected and often attractive variables are thrown in to the mix. I think I'll try taking the yoga approach: flexibility, strength and balance. Flexibility to adapt to unexpected changes + strength to stand up and say no when necessary + balance to make sure I don't fall too far on either side of the work/life line.
Wish me luck!
Saturday, February 5, 2011
Positively Diabetic
The diabetes blogs I follow are all abuzz about the Juvenile Diabetes Research Foundation (JDRF). It seems that the JDRF is moving away from trying to find a cure for diabetes and moving towards better technology to manage it. People are apparently up in arms about it.
It's understandable. I can imagine that if you are the parent of a child with diabetes, you don't want a better insulin pump - you want a cure for your child.
Maybe I have a different perspective because I was diagnosed as an adult. When I was first diagnosed, I just wanted to learn everything I could so that I could understand how diabetes works and manage it. I think I just decided that, if I put too much stake on a cure, I wouldn't take diabetes management as seriously. So I put all thoughts of a cure out of my mind and just set about learning how to live with it.
Of course I'd like a cure. Hell, I'd love it.
But today is probably the first time I've thought seriously about it since I was in intensive care back in 2002. Don't get me wrong, I'm not a pessimist. I'd bet money that there will be a cure one day.
But in my lifetime? No way to know but I'm not sitting around waiting for it.
In fact, diabetes has been really good for me in a lot of ways. Ironically, it keeps me healthy. I eat really well and I get a ton of exercise. I keep a firm grip on my weight, I get my annual physical, my eye exams, and regular blood work. I meet with a dietician twice a year, I keep my blood pressure down and watch my cholesterol. In fact, I'm probably healthier than most people.
Except for that damn diabetes.
Diabetes keeps me honest - there are just way too many people looking at my bloodwork results, blood glucose logs and food intake summaries. Without all that scrutiny, I may be tempted to stay on the couch, eat those tempting salt and vinegar chips, or let my weight creep up.
So yes, a cure would be nice. In the meantime, I'm too busy staying healthy to worry much about it.
It's understandable. I can imagine that if you are the parent of a child with diabetes, you don't want a better insulin pump - you want a cure for your child.
Maybe I have a different perspective because I was diagnosed as an adult. When I was first diagnosed, I just wanted to learn everything I could so that I could understand how diabetes works and manage it. I think I just decided that, if I put too much stake on a cure, I wouldn't take diabetes management as seriously. So I put all thoughts of a cure out of my mind and just set about learning how to live with it.
Of course I'd like a cure. Hell, I'd love it.
But today is probably the first time I've thought seriously about it since I was in intensive care back in 2002. Don't get me wrong, I'm not a pessimist. I'd bet money that there will be a cure one day.
But in my lifetime? No way to know but I'm not sitting around waiting for it.
In fact, diabetes has been really good for me in a lot of ways. Ironically, it keeps me healthy. I eat really well and I get a ton of exercise. I keep a firm grip on my weight, I get my annual physical, my eye exams, and regular blood work. I meet with a dietician twice a year, I keep my blood pressure down and watch my cholesterol. In fact, I'm probably healthier than most people.
Except for that damn diabetes.
Diabetes keeps me honest - there are just way too many people looking at my bloodwork results, blood glucose logs and food intake summaries. Without all that scrutiny, I may be tempted to stay on the couch, eat those tempting salt and vinegar chips, or let my weight creep up.
So yes, a cure would be nice. In the meantime, I'm too busy staying healthy to worry much about it.
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
Life life balance
Work life balance is a concept that I have always found compelling and one that comes fairly naturally to me. I pride myself on the fact that I work to live, I don't live to work. Don't misunderstand: I love what I do and I feel that my job is meaningful and important and I believe that I contribute positively to many peoples' lives.
But it's my job.
I get to work at 8:29am and leave at 4:30pm. I hop in my car and, most days, promptly forget where I work until the next morning.
My personal life is chock full of activities that I want to do, books that I want to read, people that I want to spend time with.
Work life balance I have in spades.
It's the life life balance that I'm struggling with.
Years ago, I decided that I wanted to be a renaissance woman. Someone who knew a lot about a lot of things and who participated in a wide variety of activities. Someone who could just as easily fix your car as whip up a gourmet supper all without breaking a sweat. I am not a renaissance woman quite yet but I'm working on it. I know where the oil goes in the car now, have helped build a deck and make a mean hot and sour soup.
Maintaining a life life balance is proving to be a bit of a challenge because there are so many things that I love to do. These days, I run, cycle and curl with a bit of yoga thrown in. My body is most certainly being challenged. My mind - well not so much. I have not been taking as many pictures, have not read as many books and have not taken a course in a while.
I feel sluggish when I don't exercise. My mind gets to be the same way.
So, I've started blogging as a way of exercising my writing muscles. I have a pile of new books by the bed to kick start my imagination and get me thinking. Next step - dust off the camera.
After I get my run in of course!
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