To Wimp...or not to Wimp

I wimped out of my Saturday morning run.

I don't think I can honestly say that I never wimp out of long runs but I think I have enough evidence to argue that I rarely wimp out of long runs. I have dutifully headed out in 30+ degrees to run for two hours. I have headed out into -30 degrees to run for two hours. Wind, humidity, rain - I've run in pretty much everything.

Friday night, the weather folks were all screaming about the rain we were about to get. It's going to rain all night and all day Saturday they warned.

Doug had 25k to run. I had 18k. We decided to set the alarm and see what the weather was doing. If it was even close to ok, we'd risk it. If not, we'd decide what to do.

We woke up to pouring rain and this on the radar map.

We are the little red diamond in the centre of the yellow, red and green clouds. 

I really didn't want to run in the pouring rain for two hours. I just really really didn't. I didn't want to come back soaking wet, wrinkled and pruny, shivering. I didn't want to have to struggle to check my blood sugar in the middle of a long country road with soaking wet fingers. 

"Céline, stop being such a wimp" my brain chastised. "I know, I know" I thought, I should just get out there and run. 

I don't want to be a wimp. 

And still I wimped out. Put on my bathrobe and padded downstairs for breakfast. Feeling guilty. Wanting to run on Saturday so I could cycle with my friends on Sunday. Wanting to get the 18k done so it wasn't looming over my head all day. Knowing that, once I committed to breakfast and took insulin, I was closing the door on any chance of running for at least three hours. What if it cleared up? Then I'd be sitting at home unable to run because I took too much insulin. 

Damnit! 

I made breakfast and took the full bolus for it. I decided that 11am would be the next magic number. If the rain stopped and my blood sugar was ok - I would run then. If not, I would have lunch and give up on the run. Sunday would have to do. 

As I sat on the couch after breakfast, the pouring rains turned into torrential sheets of rain. The kind that hurt just to look at. 

And I thought - there is sometimes a very fine line between wimping out and being smart. 

And then I thought - Céline, you are going to run 18k today or tomorrow. Either way, you are going to run 18k. I don't think there are too many people out there who would put the words 'running 18k' and 'wimp' in the same sentence. 

So I pulled out my book, curled up on the couch, and enjoyed the sound of the rain on the windows. 

And, at exactly 10:45am, the rain stopped. I jumped up, changed, checked my blood sugar (11.2), ate a banana and a gel and headed out. I felt like I was racing against the weather. The clouds kept changing from ominous and beautiful and I was rained on (lightly) several times. I galloped through 13k and then stopped for a quick BG check (9.2). I figured I would drop to about 5.0 by the end so I didn't eat anything. I finished 18k feeling stronger than usual and in world record time (1:52:07). My blood sugar was 5.2. Doesn't get any more predictable than that. 

Predictability despite not knowing when or if I was going to run. Predictability despite not setting a temp basal because I didn't know if I was going to run. Predictability despite running at 11am which I have never done. I mean ever. Diabetes - you are one crazy rabbit. You don't like doing what you're told despite working hard to meet your every whim. And yet, when I throw your entire schedule out of whack, you sit quietly on the sidelines and give me a fabulous run. 

I will never figure you out.

Country Roads...

...take me home.

To the place

I belong.

Nope, not West Virginia.

Effingham Road actually.

Last Friday night I sat at my laptop to map out Saturday's 18k route. I wanted a circular route and I wanted to go out into the country. The problem that quickly became apparent was that there aren't that many country roads out there and, therefore, there wasn't a obvious 18k circular route from our house.

There was a 16k route. A 17k route. A 19.5k and a 21k route.

Here's how I work. I do NOT like doing a route that gets me close but not close enough to my required distance. I hate looping around my neighbourhood trying to get another kilometre or two in. When I see the house, I'm done. I also don't like adding too many kilometres in a week so going from last week's 16k to 19.5k wasn't going to happen. And I HATE out and back routes so I wasn't having any of that either.

So I decided to drive to work...on a Saturday. I work 2.4k from home (I know this because I run by my workplace every time I head out into the country). So I drove to work and parked there. That cut just enough off the start of the run that I could head out into the country for my beloved circular route.

I mean really out there. I ran up up up the escarpment for the first time since last August. I had forgotten how much of a climb that was. But I hadn't forgotten my horses that are always hanging out at the top. I waved and I think they winked back. Six k done. I turned right and discovered a really strong headwind (did I mention it was cold and raining?). I had 6k to run straight into the wind and run it I did. A heron flew overhead partway there and I gave a wave to him too. Pretty sure he tipped his wing in salute. Turn right out of the wind for the last 6k home. I had also forgotten how hilly St. Paul Street is at that part (apparently my brain is extremely efficient at forgetting about hills). I ran down down down knowing I was immediately going to be running back up. Thankfully, just as I headed down the hill, the shuffle gods handed me the absolute best song on my playlist and I actually clocked a faster uphill pace than I did on the flat section I had just run.

I trotted home, cold, wet and feeling pretty damn proud of myself. No pain. No major struggle. Fairly well-behaved blood sugar.

Two more long runs and then the pre-race taper begins.

Wind Chill

When the temperature outside is 5 degrees, with a light rain, and it's a running day - I wear tights, a very thin long sleeve top and a vest. No gloves, no toque, no jacket. Within minutes, I've unzipped my vest and I'm comfortable for...hours.

When the temperature outside is 5 degrees and it's a cycling day - I panic a little bit.

There's something to be said for windchill. It rips through everything and, unlike running, you just don't ever warm up.

Our spring/summer/fall cycling group scheduled its first ride yesterday. An easy 25k to get our legs back into it. The weather, at 6:30am, was calling for 5 degrees with sun and clouds. So I brought out the big guns. I pulled on my running tights and then yanked my cycling shorts over top. I put on my thin running shirt, a t-shirt, a thicker running shirt and my -30 degree windproof running jacket that I haven't worn running once during the past two winters because it hasn't been cold enough. I put my toque on under my helmet and put my cycling gloves on over my running ones.

We pulled the bikes out from the basement, filled our water bottles and Doug asked "is it raining?". "Nope" I replied with naive confidence "it's not supposed to rain."

Apparently the weather gods don't always ask the weather network folks before they edit the script.

It WAS raining. And windy.

We cycled the 2k to Runners' Edge. Vince was sitting in his vehicle, his bike still attached to the back. "What the hell?" was his greeting. Klari pulled up on her bike, having cycled the few kilometres from her house. "What the hell?!?" was hers too. Erin pulled up in her vehicle "Are we riding?".

"No" was the unanimous decision.

We cycled the 2k back home again. I was so cold I could hardly pedal and the pain in my finger tips was excruciating. The faster I tried to go, the colder it got. That, my friends, is a painful catch 22.

We made it home, tossed the bikes back into the basement without a word.

I checked my sugar - it was 18.9.  Guess that's what happens when you adjust your basal rate for cycling, eat breakfast but only bolus for half and then cycle 4k in 26 minutes. Switched my basal rate from 60% to 140%, took a correction bolus and called it a day.

A hot shower and a cup of coffee later, we were warm and feeling sane again.

Guess we'll try again next week.

A Visit From Boston

Last Friday, Doug and I went to the curling club as per usual.  The second last game of the season.

That's where our typical weekend stopped and the real fun began.

As we were pulling on our so-not-sexy curling shoes, Scully waltzed in. She drove all the way from Toronto to watch our game...and to meet up with Jeff. He showed up a few minutes later and Scully and I beamed - he's here!! All the way from Boston just to hang out with us and run all the way Around the Bay.

I don't think the Curling club has ever had three T1s in attendance at the same time. With matching Medtronic pumps and plenty of fast acting carbs to boot.

We piled onto the ice and Erin arrived to teach them the fundamentals of curling and provide colour commentary while we played.

After the game, Doug took Jeff out on the ice for his first curling lesson. There were lots of laughs, lots of photos, and the conclusion was that perhaps he should stick to running...at least for now.

Saturday, it was pouring rain. So after a trip to the Around the Bay race expo and Hamilton Market, we headed out for a road trip with me as tour guide. And I could think of nowhere better to bring three T1s than Nigh's chocolate shop. It's a tiny little shop in the middle of nowhere (to steal Jann Arden's line) but has the most amazing array of chocolates anywhere around. We completely ignored the sugar free chocolate section and proceeded to purchase ridiculous amounts of full fat, full sugar, full flavour chocolate.

I had hardly started the car when we heard the unmistakable sound of Scully ripping into her first bar. Followed by the sounds of blood sugar testing and insulin pump beeping. Yep, there were lots of beeps going on in that car.

Off to Niagara-on-the-Lake for some cheese tasting and history lessons before we then back home again.

Sunday morning dawned cool but clear and we all found ourselves in Copps Coliseum. Race time folks!  The 118th Around the Bay Road Race was about to begin.

Doug, Scully and Jeff headed for the start line, Erin and I headed out on the course, and the game of chasing runners began. We spotted everyone at least once, collected cast-off clothing as the temperatures began to soar and made it back to Copps on time to see everyone cross the finish line in victory.

Thanks Jeff, for braving the wilds of Canada to hang out with two Canadian girls for the weekend. We had a great time!

Faerie Gifts

The last few days have been filled with experiences that seem almost magical for their rarity. 

First of all, I woke up in the wee hours on Sunday morning to a sound I haven't heard in weeks and weeks.  It took a few moments for me to register what was happening but finally the fog lifted and a picture formed.  It was...

...raining! 

The rain fell hard and showed no signs of stopping.  I listened to it for a while and then floated back to sleep wrapped in blankets and contentment.  Rain.

The next morning, we opened the door to a fresh clean world.  The temperature had dropped a few degrees, the world smelled like earth and everything looked shiny and new.  As we cycled through St. David's, past the cherry trees and peach orchards, the whole world seemed to be singing.

This morning I had another magical experience.  I opened the door at 5:30am, all set to run 10k and beat the heat (my new favourite phrase).  I walked outside and something felt different.  I couldn't quite place it.  Eveything looked the same as it did yesterday. 

Then I realized what it was. 

I felt comfortable.

I walked outside and did not walk smack into a wall of heat and humidity.  I walked outside and felt cool and comfortable. After last week's craziness, my body sighed with relief. 

It was a beautiful morning.  We've lost a few minutes of daylight since last week so I started the run in the dark.  Ten minutes in, the sun was peaking through the trees.  Today, the sight of the sun wasn't cause for concern or of panic.  It was just so beautiful to watch it come up.

Funny what a five degree drop in temperature can do to our physical and mental health isn't it?

Uphill, It All Evens Out

I don't know if you remember my run two weeks ago when I went out with two younger gentlemen for an 'easy' 5k. Well, one of those boys (Matt) and I are trying to fit in a weekly 30-40 minute run together.

The plan for this week was to leave from my house, run down the Rodman Hall hill and hit the trails. 

Anyone living in Southern Ontario knows that it has been raining non-stop for days now so the trail idea was quickly kiboshed. No need to come home completely soaked AND covered in mud.

So, I suggested a wee bit of hill training.  Matt, being gung ho for pretty much anything, quickly agreed.  We headed out in the rain and ran down down down to the bottom of the hill.  He's never really done hill training before so I did a quick review on how to swing his arms and to keep his eyes focused on the top of the hill. I explained that we typically run up the length of two telephone poles, turn around and run back down.  Then we run up three telephone poles, and back down.  This cycle continues until we get to the top which is eleven telephone poles away. 

Sounds easy non?

Absofrak'inlutely not!

But it is so rewarding when you're done.  We felt ambitious so we started out with three telephone poles and ran that hill 8 times, clocking 4.6k in total (uphill and downhill).  Pretty much the same distance as our regular 5k runs but a completely different workout. We felt exhausted and pumped at the same time and headed home looking like someone threw buckets of water on us. Man it was raining!  

The best part for me?  I struggle to keep up with Matt on flat ground.  Add a bit of an incline and suddenly things were a little more evenly balanced.  The longer the hill, the farther I inched ahead.  Nice!

Here's hoping it rains a lot this summer :)

For those of you interested in the little details - I decided to try my heart rate monitor during the run.  I rarely wear it and am trying to get a sense of my heart rate, target zones, max rate etc.  My sitting down on my ass heart rate is about 55 bpm.  Yesterday night, my average during the run was 156 and the peak (nearing the top of the last hill climb) was 177.  Not sure yet if that means I was seconds away from death or if I'm an athlete of olympic quality but those were the numbers.

Living Every Moment

Day three of the Boston marathon (as I am now calling the days leading up to the actual race) began at 4:50am.  We awoke to a dark, cold and rainy world.  A quick shower and breakfast and we were out the door.  I am the warm blooded half of the couple and I left wearing two pairs of pants, two shirts, a hoodie and a jacket.  Nasty stuff.  

We hurried through the sleeping streets to the big white tent next to the finish line.  The Boston 5k race starts at 8am and we were lucky enough to be volunteers.  Shift duty started at 6am and, to be quite honest, I could not wait to get my very own Boston volunteer jacket.  The best part was that all the Runners' Edgers who were in Boston were volunteering. From all corners of the city they came.  Eight hours from home and I'm surrounded by friends in matching hoodies.  How very cool is that?  

Even cooler was when two runners from our group showed up to run.  They had received two last-minute entries and drove all the way from St. Catharines to Boston to run the 5k.  

Having run in plenty of races, it's nice to experience what the folks on the other side of the table do.  As the wind whipped and the rain lashed, we unloaded fruit cups, gatorade and bagels.  Lots and lots of them.  There were over 5,000 runners registered for the 5k which is pretty unbelievable compared to the races we're just to.  Once everything was set up we were put on guard duty to stop the runners from sneaking food and water before the race even started. 

The wind stopped, the rain cleared and the sun came out on time for the race.  We got to watch the start and then we were put on medal duty.  Unwrap 5,000 medals and get ready to hand them out.  

The first runner came roaring in at around 14 minutes.  The second was just behind him and then the insanity started and continued for 45 minutes.  The tent was packed as the herd moved through.  I spotted our two runner girls and had the honour of placing medals around their necks.  Another Boston moment. 

By 9:30am, our shift was done and we were ready to take on the town.  Doug headed out for his pre-race run and I headed down to Marathon Sports to buy myself a pair of Vibrams.  Yes folks - I now own five-fingered shoes and cannot wait to try them out.  

Run done and shoes purchased, we hopped on the subway and headed to the New England Aquarium.  Also known as the place where my marine biology dreams began.  It still looked the same - the same fabulous exhibits and the same amazing tank full of shark, rays, fish of all shapes and sizes and the giant turtle who has been there for forty years.  

This would be me holding a vertebrae from a humpback whale.   

And this would be a lovely sea dragon.  Which immediately made me think of My Little Pony.  

We headed to the Italian district for the requisite pre-race pasta dinner.  So did the rest of the 25,000 runners apparently.  We were lucky enough to beat the crowd and discovered a fabulous little spot called Marco.

They sat us at the bar and we were entertained by Matt, our charming bartender.  His dinner recommendations were spot on and his dessert ones were just as good.  Cannolis from Bova!  Yum!

One more stop on the way home.  We had already had dessert but someone had a craving.  And he's got a big race to run so how could I possibly say no??

Next stop: Hopkington.  For the start of the world famous Boston Marathon.  

12,775 times

I remember the first time I had to give myself a needle.  In the hospital, a few hours before I was going to be discharged as a newly minted diabetic (sorry, person with diabetes).  I was shaking, I was scared and I was so afraid of...I don't even know what I was afraid of but I sure as hell was afraid.  After a few moments of mild panic, I sucked it up, sat on the edge of the bed in my lovely hospital gown and somehow found the courage to stick myself. 

Nothing crazy happened except that I quickly lost my fear of needles.  I mastered doing it in fancy restaurants, standing in line for a hot dog, driving on the highway, in the pitch black northern Ontario night in a tent and in all sorts of other fun places. 

That last sentence sounds a lot more exciting than it really should...

Anyway, I did the multiple daily injection (MDI) thing for seven years before I tried the insulin pump.  When I was MDI-ing, I took slow acting insulin in the morning and at night and rapid acting with every meal.  That meant that the minimum was five needles per day.  Sometimes more if my sugar was high or I wanted a snack.

365 days per year x 7 years x 5 injections per day = 12,775 injections

Trust me, you get over your fear and shame pretty quickly when you have to do something that many times.

Speaking of getting used to things...

I can wake up in the middle of the night, find my glucometer, insert a test strip, prick my finger, get a drop of blood, and get said blood into the test strip all without turning on a light.  And I can tilt the glucometer screen to just the right angle to read the number by moonlight. 

I can guess my blood sugar to the decimal place. I can figure out how many fig newtons to eat when I'm low and then guess what my blood sugar will be an hour later. 

But I digress. The whole point of this blog entry was to talk about getting used to things. It was inspired by the rain that's been falling, the huge puddles all over the streets and the idea that I'm going to have to get used to running in the rain again.  Get used to putting my pump in a ziplock bag so it doesn't short circuit when I am completely soaked through.  Get used to peering through rain-coated glasses and putting a towel down on the car seat for the drive home. 

My non-running friend that I wrote about a few days ago would probably take this opportunity to ask why the hell anyone would want to run in the rain.

My answer , I hope, would elegantly capture the almost religious experience of it all.  The exhiliration of being a part of the weather rather than a witness to it. The sensual feeling that makes me think of standing under a waterfall.  The smell of an impending rain and how it is unlike anything else.  Those crazy runs that start off with dark clouds, have you running through a downpour and then end with glorious sunbeams bursting through the clouds. If you're really lucky, a double rainbow will appear to guide you home.

Unlike those needles I talked about, I never get used to running in the rain.  It's an adventure, an experience and a gift every single time.

The Best Laid Plans...

Last night's weather called for rain, ice pellets, and snow.  Last night's running schedule called for 13k.

My options were:
A. stay home under a blanket
B. run right after work to get the run done as soon as possible
C. run at 6:15 with the running club and get home around 8:30pm.

I chose option B.

So, at 5:15pm I was dressed for all weathers, armed with motivational tunes and ready to run for an hour and twenty minutes on my own.

I told D the route I was going to take, said that I would be home in plenty of time to stretch, shower and be ready to eat by 7:15, and headed out into the rain.

Thirty seconds into the run, I realized I would NOT be setting a speed record.  In the quick run to the corner, I had to contend with slushy, icy sidewalks that were covered in rain.  Curling ice is less slippery I thought and sent a quick prayer to the gods asking for no broken bones or brain injuries during this run. 

I slowed my pace, found my groove and reassured myself that I would still make it home on time for dinner.

I have many running routes of various distances.  The problem is when I don't run a distance for a while, I forget which route I take.  So I did some quick calculations in my head and reassured myself that I indeed remembered the 13k route. 

I did not.

I remembered the 15k route. 

Runners with diabetes need to plan how long they are going to run for to be able to adjust their insulin and avoid having high or low blood sugar. I had planned for a 13k run that would take 1 hour and 20 minutes.  I did not plan for a 15k run that would take 1 hour and 45 minutes.  So my blood sugar went too low and I had to walk for a while as I had a quick snack and waited for my blood sugar to rise back to the safe zone again. 

Did I mention it was raining??

I showed up, sopping wet, about 8 minutes before dinner was supposed to be ready.  I opened the door to find a kitchen in pause mode and was greeted with a big grin and a comment about looking a tad waterlogged. I was sent off to shower as he finished the dinner and we sat down to a lovely meal only thirty minutes later than planned. 

Got my run in.

Love my life.