Raising the Salad Bar

It's getting darker in the mornings. And in the evenings.

I know, I'm sorry, I should stop mentioning such horrible things because it makes people sad.

But it's important for my story.

See, when it's bright and sunny out from 5am to 9pm, I am happy eating pretty much whatever is quick, tasty and easy to make. Like grilled meat with grilled veggies on the barbecue. Or grilled fish with grilled veggies on the barbecue. Corn on the cob on the side. You know, summer stuff.

Then it starts getting darker in the mornings, and darker in the evenings and I start wanting to cook again. I mean chopping veggies, turning on the oven, using three pots kinda cooking.

On Monday night, I was in charge of dinner. I picked up some salmon (you know, to grill on the barbecue) as well as a pack of baby spinach, mushrooms, a zucchini, red pepper and a red onion. I wanted to experiment and make a healthy, hearty, warm fall-worthy salad.

I also wanted to experiment because we are going to be at a cottage in just over a week and are in charge of making dinner one evening for six adults. Six adults with a variety of tastes and dietary lifestyles. And I figured a hearty, healthy salad would not go amiss.

I did not take pictures because I was too busy cooking. So I'll try to paint a word picture for you.

I prepared some quinoa (1 cup of red quinoa cooked in two cups of broth - cook on low for 18ish minutes until broth is absorbed).

I put a tray of veggies (red onion, red pepper, zucchini and mushrooms) in the oven to roast (no oil, salt or pepper).

In the meantime, I rinsed a can of chickpeas and tossed it into a bowl.

Once roasted, I chopped up the veggies and tossed them on top of the chickpeas. Followed by the now cooked and still hot quinoa.

I prepared a dressing (equal parts pesto, olive oil and white balsamic vinegar) and poured that on top.

Stir until bright, colourful and well mixed.

Lay baby spinach on the plate. Top with warm salad. Put some feta cheese on top.

Add a piece of grilled salmon on the side.

Smile like the proud chef you are.

Enjoy.

Looks like we found our cottage salad recipe.

(And just imagine how sinfully good it would be with avocado on top. Or goat cheese. Or lemon juice and olive oil. Oh the possibilities!)

Metric, Imperial and ???

Ever notice that all 10k running races are 10k long?

All half marathons are 21.1k or 13.1 miles?

All marathons are 42.2k or 26.2 miles?

As an athlete who started her athletic adventures in the running world, I grew to assume that all races with a set name are a set distance. (Despite those non-running people who ask us running people questions like: did you run the 5k marathon last weekend? or how far is a marathon? Like 10k or something?) 

Then I discovered triathlons and, with them, I discovered a whole world of randomness.

If I had started at the Ironman distance (ha!), I would have learned that all Ironmans (Ironmen?) are swim 3.8k (2.4 miles), bike 180k (112 miles) and run 42.2k (26.2 miles).

The half Ironman is still pretty logical in that all distances are half that of the Ironman (swim 1.9k (1.2miles), bike 90k (56 miles) and run 21.1k (13.1 miles)).

The Olympic is also a set distance although it does, in my opinion, seem bizarre in how they figured out the distances. Bizarre because the amount of time doing each sport relative to the amount of time doing the event is much different in the Olympic than it is in the Ironman or half Ironman events.

The Olympic swim is 1.5k (0.93 miles), the bike is 40k (24.8 miles) and the run is 10k (6.2 miles).

The swim is only 400m shorter than the half Ironman. The bike is less than half the distance and the run is also less than half the distance. Odd, but whatever.

The thing is that I debuted at the sprint, or what is sometimes called the sprint, triathlon distance. (Well, technically I debuted with a super sprint (or a try a tri) but let's take that one out of the mix for simplicity's sake.) 

Here are the distances of the non-Olympic triathlons I have done so far:

Grimsby:  swim 750m, bike 25k and run 7.0k.
Guelph:    swim 750m, bike 30k and run 7.0k.
Welland:  swim 750m, bike 30k and run 7.5k.
Belwood: swim 750m, bike 30k, and run 7.5k
Toronto Island (next weekend) is swim 750m, bike 20k and run 5k.

They are all called triathlons. Yet, unlike half marathons, I can't compare my results from race to race because they're all different distances.

According to my friends in the know, a sprint triathlon is exactly half the distance of the Olympic triathlon (750m swim, 20k bike, 5k run). Which means that I will actually be doing my first sprint this weekend. A triathlon is anything between the sprint and the Olympic distance.

Got it?

The other thing I find a little odd is the stickers people put on their cars to celebrate the triathlon distances they've done.

Ironmen (rightly) brag of their accomplishment with the number 140.6. Half Ironmen use the number 70.3 to represent their races. Olympic distance finishers use 51.5 for their race.

Notice anything odd?

The 140.6 and the 70.3 are in miles.

The 51.5 is in kilometres. If we switched it to miles it would read: 34.48. But I've never seen a 34.48 sticker on someone's bumper. Only the 51.5.

I like 51.5. It sounds like a lot. Yet it does feel a little unfair because it looks pretty close to the 70.3 half Ironman distance but I know full well that it's not.

It's been two seasons of triathlons now and I'm getting the hang of things. Some things, like the numbers, I'm still trying to wrap my head around.

Diabetes Golf - Like Frisbee Golf Only Weirder

I went golfing twice this week. 

TWICE!!

That's, like, what real golfers do. 

Doug and I joined another couple on Tuesday night for a 9-hole game on my par 3 course. The one I set a goal to score under 50 on by the end of the summer. I scored 61 the first time I played which was pretty awful. The second time I got 50 on the nose. On Tuesday night, I scored 49. 

Forty-Nine! 

Then last night, I went golfing with two girlfriends. We call ourselves the ladies who really suck at golf group and we all play at pretty much the same level. Which is like two notches above horrible. Which makes it fun. And takes the pressure off. 

We played 9 holes on my favourite course which has par 3s and par 4s. 

It was my third time playing this course too. The first time I played I got 53. 

The second time I played I scored 53. 

Last night I scored 52. 

Slowly but surely I'm getting better. 

Oh, and in a weird diabetes golf twist, let me tell you about my dream the other night. 

I was working as Phil Mickelson's caddy (which would be a pretty fun job I'd imagine). I started to feel low as we were walking so I told him I needed to stop and eat something...now. His eyes light up. "Oh, you have type 1 diabetes? So do I" he said. (he doesn't, as far as I know, but it's a dream so whatever). 

"Want me to autograph your jacket?" he asked. "Actually" I said, sweating profusely and feeling dangerously low "I just need to get my emergency carbs out of my bag". "Oh, but we're both type 1, please let me autograph your jacket" he insisted. 

I started to feel very angry - and very shaky at the same time. Then I thought "Phil seems like such a cool guy on television. I can't believe he's being such a jerk. Especially since he has diabetes too. No he doesn't. That other golfer guy does. I wonder if I'm dreaming."

Then I woke up and discovered I was 2.8 and sweating profusely. 

Thanks Phil, for pissing me off enough to wake me up. 

Some Stereotypes I'm OK With. Some, Not So Much.

It's Wednesday night at 6pm as I type this. It's colder than it should be in August but I wanted to relax on my deck so here I am. On my deck. In my bright pink Keen sandals, my über sexy black and blue compression pants, my t-shirt and my jacket. With my glass of red wine and my trusty water bottle. With my laptop, my iPhone and my iPad. Feeling a little ridiculous and hoping that the neighbours don't spot me.

Weird how standards change depending on what we're doing isn't it?

If someone honks at me when I'm running through a snow storm - I'll grin and wave.

If a co-worker says 'hey, I saw you running last night during that crazy rain storm" I'll smile and talk about how refreshing it is to run in the rain.

If someone asks why I have goggle marks on my face when I get to work, I have no problem explaining my morning swim routine.

I'm happy to sit in Tim Hortons after a Sunday morning bike ride, sweaty, with crazy hair, wearing those awful padded cycling shorts that just don't look good on anyone.

And yet when all I want to do is sit on the deck on a chilly August evening, I'm a little embarrassed by my outfit and hope no one spots me.

I'd rather run into someone at the market on Saturday mornings when I'm dripping wet and stinky after a run.

Maybe it's because there's a certain stigma attached to people who run. They run, which is bizarre enough, so running in awful weather or wearing running clothes in odd places just reinforces the stereotype.

Whereas when I'm sitting on my deck, I look like a neighbour. A neighbour who sits on her deck in the cold wearing weird looking pants and a jacket. With fingers tinged blue from the cold. And a red nose.

Perhaps it's time to head inside...

Diversity

Not really that long ago, I was a runner.

Not that there is anything wrong with being a runner but running was the only activity I did.

That meant that a typical weekend looked something like this:

Friday - day off to prepare for my Saturday morning long run
Saturday - long run
Sunday - day off to recover from my Saturday morning long run

Then I got a bike and weekends started looking like this:

Friday - day off to prepare for my Saturday morning long run
Saturday - long run
Sunday - bike ride to cross train and recover from my Saturday morning long run

Then I started curling. Then swimming. Now golf.

Now there is no longer such thing as a day off. Not really.

Last weekend looked like this:

Friday - 1.9k swim race
Saturday - 12k run in the morning followed by afternoon trip to the driving range
Sunday - bike ride

Soon enough, my golf clubs will be traded in for my curling broom. My open water Friday swims will be back in the pool. My outdoor bike rides will be traded in for sessions on my trainer. Which is totally fine with me because it's not a bad thing - just a different thing.

Diversity, as I seem to discover over and over again, is really good for me.

It allows me to do something physical every day without getting injured or burned out.

It allows my entire body to benefit without putting too much strain on any one part.

It keeps my motivation high because there just isn't time to get bored with anything.

I am still a runner.

But I am no longer a runner.

I'm a multisport athlete.

I wish my younger, non-athletic, embarrassed to even try sports self had known that there were sports she'd actually like. In fact, sports she was kinda good at.

It would have made all the difference during those awful gym classes that turned me off of anything physical until I was in my late 20s.

I'm so happy I decided to try being a runner five years ago.

I would never have believed where it would take me.

Aktiv Race Series - Part II

Friday night, I competed in my second Aktiv Race Series 1.9k open water swim.

The first one I did, back in July, had me pretty nervous. I spent the day with butterflies fluttering around in my stomach.

Friday, I woke up with the same feeling. Which was odd because, once I know what to expect, I'm usually pretty cool the second time around.

Not being used to evening exercise, I had a diabetes plan that I hoped would work.
- I would have my normal lunch at my normal time.
- I would had a snack at 3pm and take a full bolus for it. The race was a 6pm so I figured my blood sugar would be down to normal and I'd have very little, if any, insulin on board.
- I would reduce my basal rate to 60% at 4:30pm. I never reduce my basal before morning swims but my blood sugar drops more easily in the evenings so I figured better safe than sorry.

At 3pm, I had a peanut butter and banana sandwich and took the full bolus for it. At 4pm, I was 11.2 which is actually a bit low only an hour after eating. At 4:20pm I was 9.5. My nerves kicked in and I decided to eat three mini chocolates to stop myself from dropping too low.

We got in the car at 4:40pm and drove to Welland. Doug wanted to get an open water swim practice in before my race and I was happy to have lots of time there to get in 'the zone'.

At 5pm, my blood sugar was 13.8. Bah! From three little chocolates? Or from nerves?? I decided to take a very small (0.3 units) correction bolus.

At 5:30pm, I was 13.0. Not dropping. Not climbing. Not great but not so awful that I couldn't swim. I decided not to have a gel but I also turned off my 60% basal rate figuring it might help prevent me from being too high when I finished.

I pulled off my shorts and t-shirt. I pulled on my swim cap and goggles. I tucked two emergency gels in my bathing suit. I noticed that there seemed to be a lot of wetsuit-clad folks and only two (that I could see) bathing suit clad folks.

I dove in and did a short warm up. My plan for the swim was to go at a fast pace that I thought I could hold for the entire swim. The first time I did it I pushed hard but I had some energy left at the end. I wanted to knock a few seconds off my time and see if I could hold a faster pace.

I reminded myself to kick.

The horn blew and we were off.

I won't go through the swim in any great detail but I will say that I pushed hard and kept it up the entire time. I felt strong during the swim and spent when I finished. I hauled myself on to the dock (as ungracefully as the first time) and ran to the timing mat. I was a little wobbly and a little dizzy but felt pretty damn good.

I checked my blood sugar.

I was 3.7.

I dropped from 13.0 to 3.7 in 35 minutes. That's about as close as I ever want to cut it. Another 200m and I would have been in trouble. Lesson learned.

Oh, and my time from the first race was: 36:53.
My second attempt was done in: 35:56 (almost a minute faster!)

I Heard You the First Time

Last Friday, I was down to 19 units of insulin in my pump when I headed to work. I know it would be close but I figured I'd have just enough insulin left to get me through my workday. I hate wasting insulin if I can avoid it. I've been known to bring my needle to work with me for days when I have enough insulin left in the pump to take care of my basal but not enough for meals or snacks. 

That being said, I have never actually run Lucky down to zero. He's been close but there was always at least one unit left when I changed him. 

On Friday, I left work at 2:00pm. I had three quick errands to run on the way home. I drove to the first one and, as I was backing in to the parking spot, my pump alarmed. No insulin left it said. Lucky asked me to confirm the message. I did. 

Thanks Lucky! We'll be home in less than 30 minutes and I'll change you right away. I promise. 

I headed into the store and grabbed the three items I needed. I walked up to the counter to pay and my pump alarmed again. 

Maybe I didn't actually confirm the alarm the first time. I double-checked to confirm that I was indeed confirming the message and proceeded to pay and head back to my car. 

Thanks for the reminder Lucky. I'll change you as soon as I get home. 

I tossed the items in the car, did up my seat belt and prepared to pull out. 

Lucky alarmed again. 

Are you kidding me? Same message. Same confirmation on my part. 

Lucky - enough already. I get it. You want me to change you NOW. Well, I'm not home NOW but I'll be home in 20 minutes so relax!

I made two more quick stops. He continued to alarm like a misbehaving child every few minutes. He went off twice when I was checking out of grocery store. Twice when I was walking to my car and loading the groceries and twice when I was driving the short trip home. 

I debated taking out the battery to shut him up but it would be out for too long and I'd have to re-entre all my settings. I debating looking through the menus to see if there was a way to reduce the irritating alarm but I was too annoyed by the obnoxious alarms to do anything other than rush home. 

I got home, dragged my haul into the house and tossed it on the counter. Doug came down to say hello and happy weekend. I tried not to make my irritation too evident and told him through gritted teeth that I had to change my pump...NOW!

He unloaded the groceries, I changed Lucky and a fabulous sense of peace descended on the house. 

Lucky - you know I love you. But holy hannah you're an annoying little dude when you're unhappy.