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!

Cow Face Pose

I love Sunday mornings.  There are two different kinds in my world and they're both wonderful for completely different reasons.

Some Sundays are days of rest.  Typically, those days happen when it's pouring rain or blizzarding (I may have just invented a new word).   There are no alarm clocks and there is no pressure to do anything. Waking up and being able to luxuriate in bed is one of life's great pleasures.  When hunger finally wins out, it's down to the kitchen we go for a yummy breakfast with some classical music playing in the background.  Those Sundays are warm, peaceful and good for the soul.  

Most Sundays involve a 6:30am wakeup, a quick shower and breakfast followed by the loading of two bikes, two trainers, two yoga mats, two changes of clothes, snacks and a laptop into a very accommodating NissanVersa.  Then we head off to Runners' Edge for the Sunday morning cycling group followed by a yoga class.  

Cycling and yoga are great cross training options in an otherwise heavy running schedule.  My legs are always tight and sore from Saturday's long run but, after a stint on the bike and some crazy stretching, they feel long and limber again, if a bit wobbly.  

Yoga is a very humbling activity.  So is running, just for the record, but in a completely different way.  In yoga, we are a room full of runners trying to increase our flexibility.  Facing each other on our yoga mats, there is no place to hide. Everyone gets to watch as we struggle to find our centre of balance and to straighten our damn legs.  Thankfully, we all know each other so the room is always full of good-natured laughter and teasing.  

Most people in the class have one particular pose that they are really good at.  Doug has great balance and rocks the tree pose.  John's hockey has helped him master the bound angle pose.  I discovered that I have very flexible shoulders which means that I'm good at cow face pose.  

Yes, I did indeed say cow face pose. 

I'd prefer to excel at a pose with a prettier name but such is life. 

Today's cycling workout and yoga class were great but we had a few added twists thrown in.  Namely, several centimetres of snow.  We arrived home three hours after we left - weak in the legs and ready to eat.  But first - we had to shovel.  

Shovelling is normally one of my absolutely favourite chores.  It's outdoors, it's cold (I'm always overheating so cold is good), it's invigorating and you can immediately see the fruits of your labour.  I even shovel things I don't need to shovel just 'cause I want to. Today, I was so tired and hungry that our wee driveway and sidewalk just about did me in. 

By the time we got inside, I thought I'd exceeded my physical limit for the day and that I would have to crawl back into bed for a few hours.  

But no!  

One bagel sandwich, one homemade larabar and several glasses of water later, I'm reenergized and basking in that happy endorphin glow that follows a good workout.  

I may be sound asleep in bed by 8:30pm tonight but, for the moment, I feel fabulous! 

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.

Uncharted Territory

20k run in the morning.

I haven't run that far in five months.  Not since the Run for the Grapes 1/2 marathon back in September.

We're entering uncharted territory folks.

I've mastered (as much as that's possible) what to do when I run 5k, 8k, 10k, 13k.  I know how to adjust my basal, I know how much to eat before, I know how many snacks to carry. I can extend a bit and do 15k using the same bag of tricks.  Anything farther than that gets tricky because I don't run those distances often enough to work out all the kinks.

20k in the morning.

22k next Saturday (I have only run that distance once before)

25k the Saturday after (I have never run that far)

Couple weeks later, it's 28k then 30k.

Thank goodness for friends.  Chris and Benny will be out there tomorrow morning in the car, keeping an eye on the runners, and carrying my bag of emergency supplies (I like to bring enough to save about 10 diabetics).

Not sure how hard or easy it's going to be in the morning.  But I do know that it's going to be ok.

And that's pretty damn comforting.

Stubborn as a Rock

Sometimes I wonder how many of my little quirks are due to diabetes...and how many are just me.

I've been running for three years now.  Which means that running has always gone hand in hand with diabetes. I did not have the opportunity to do a controlled study: pre versus post diabetes running.  

I am prone to very tight calves, shin issues and plantar fasciitis.  My massage therapist and chiropractor take great care of me but things never really clear up - they just get better, then worse, then better again.  I thought that was just me until my massage therapist tossed out the possibility that it might be due to poor circulation.  Diabetes.

That put a whole new spin on things.

It also pissed me off.  If she's right - then it's not just about finding the right shoes or stretching more, it's diabetes.

Damn.

I also get tired a lot.  It's always a struggle to get a restful sleep and a week of good sleeps can be undone by one bad night.

Is that just me?  Or some other weird side effect of diabetes?

My hair grows really fast, my nails grow really fast, I'm prone to dry skin and low iron. Is that just me?  Or the diabetes?

I like single malt whisky, neat.  I cry easily.  I get all indignant about things that aren't fair.  I make a mean chicken squash curry.  I love the colour blue. I have dissected sharks, chased whales and can say deoxyribonucleic acid without stumbling.  

Diabetes?

Absolutely not.

I'm am who I am.  Made out of something stronger than rock and softer than sand.  Diabetes can challenge me and reshape me.  But good luck changing me.  I'm too damn stubborn for that.  

This is my Pancreas

Someone saw my insulin pump yesterday and asked me if it was some sort of funky mp3 player.  They stared harder - maybe a pedometer?  What IS that thing?

I made the introductions.  Dave, this is my pancreas.

Dave and I had a great little chat about how it works, whether it's better or easier than needles and he quickly sympathized about how hard it must be to be tethered to something all the time.

It is hard, and it's not.

I look at diabetes management as an exercise in tooth brushing.  If someone told me that, for the rest of my life, I would have to brush my teeth every single morning and every single night, I would not have been impressed.  Seriously?  Brush my teeth EVERY day??

Yet we all do it with hardly a thought.

We prepare and eat three meals a day with hardly a thought.  We shower, get dressed and do countless other things every day and rarely, if ever, consider not doing them.

Diabetes management is like that - most of the time.  29 days out of 30, you just do it.  Get up, shower, brush teeth, check blood sugar, decide on breakfast, bolus, eat, check sugar again later, adjust if necessary.  It's just part of the routine.

One day out of 30, I want to hurl my pancreas, glucometer, monster box of supplies, quick acting carbohydrates, A1C results and carb counting books into some fiery hot lava pit and watch them burn.

Us folks with diabetes may make it look easy - but it's NOT. It's complicated, it's imprecise and it's downright scary sometimes.  Blood sugar levels misbehave for so many reasons that the idea of having tight control is almost laughable.  My period's coming, my period's finishing, I'm fighting a cold, it's cold outside, I'm tired, I'm stressed, I ran yesterday, I ran this morning, I haven't run for three days, I had a glass of wine, I sat on the couch for three hours, I watched a sad movie, I miscalculated the carbs, there's an air bubble in my insulin tube, my body decided to change its basal requirements and it takes me three days of highs (or lows) to clue in.

I could go on all day.

But I won't because, most of the time, it's not a big deal.

Back in my university days, before the diagnosis of Type 1 came, I took a class called The Discovery of Insulin.  At the time I was fascinated to learn how the pancreas worked, how lack of insulin affected the body and how absolutely deadly Type 1 diabetes used to be.  A diagnosis was a death sentence.  That was it.  No amount of healthy living, exercise, or medical attention could save you.  Then came Drs Banting and Best who, in 1922, discovered insulin's role in treating diabetes.  Learning about the discovery of insulin and how it saved people's lives was inspiring.  Such a simple, elegant solution to this insidious disease.

Little did I know that, less than ten years later, my life would be added to the list of those saved.  Thank you Dr. Banting and Dr. Best.

My insulin pump and I have become good friends.  He lets me live the life I want to live and does his best to do what I ask him to do.  He sits on the counter while I shower but, otherwise, we're rarely apart for long.  The odd day, when I'm feeling the need, I run around naked for a while.  It gives me an incredible sense of freedom.  But I cannot survive without my pump and feel better when we're connected.

Thanks Dave, for asking about it.  It was a reminder of how much a part of me my pump has become.  And how very cool it is that I can wear my pancreas on my belt and live my life.

The Lone Runner

I usually run alone, even when I'm running with a group.  It's because no one runs the same pace that I run plus I'm not a very chatty runner.  Trying to breathe is enough of a challenge for me.

So I usually run alone.

I'm quite ok with that.  I like being alone in my head - my mind wanders, I solve problems I didn't even know I had and I get a little better at negotiating with my inner non-runner who'd rather be home on the couch.

On Boxing Day, a gaggle of runners drove to Hamilton to run the Boxing Day 10 miler.  From the first step until we crossed the finish line, I ran with my friends John and Michelle.  They ran a pace that was just far enough outside my comfort zone that I spent the better part of the race trying to come up with a polite way of telling them to just leave me alone so that I could collapse in a heap.  I never did find the words and, as a result, I crossed the finish line in a time that I will forever have trouble beating.  It felt amazing. I was so proud and so grateful to have been carried along.  It taught me the power of running with other people.

Tonight I headed out for a run in the snow.  Doug headed out at the same time.  That rarely happens.  We were going the same way and running the same distance.  That also rarely happens.  I figured we'd run together across the bridge and then I'd watch him disappear as I found my comfortable pace and he found his.

Tonight we ran together.  I decided that I would use the opportunity to push myself like I did on Boxing Day. I'd run a pace that was not comfortable, but not deadly either, and see what I could do.  If that was fast enough for Doug, fabulous.  If not, he was always welcome to pull ahead and head off on his own.

I pushed.  He stayed.  We didn't talk much.  I was completely exhausted when we got home.  He gave me a high five.

It was a great run.