The Race

The alarm went off at 4:45am.

This is it. 

It was time to put on my superhero costume and represent something much bigger than myself. Much bigger than diabetes. Much bigger than all twenty-five of us put together. 

It was time to transform ourselves into living, breathing, running examples of hope and of perseverance. 

I took one look at the weather forecast and thanked the gods I had the sense to pack for all weathers. On came the running pants, long sleeve shirt, singlet and gloves. I grabbed my apple and granola bar, I double checked my bag of supplies, I tied on my running belt and we headed down to the lobby - the sun still hours away from rising. 

We checked in with Mary-Jo to confirm that we were indeed awake and were indeed ready to run and then we climbed onto the bus for the ride to Minneapolis. The race is called the Twin Cities 10-miler because we start in Minneapolis and run to St. Paul. Down the dark streets we drove. I stared straight ahead, I stared out the window, I choked down my apple and I gripped Doug's hand. 

Can I live up to the expectations that my superhero costume put on me? Can I run the race and run it well? Can I be that person in the video that I watched over and over again - full of life and energy and hope? 

We got off the bus and headed in to the Minnesota Vikings stadium to await the start of the race. Nine thousand runners were about to run the 10-miler. Several thousand more were gearing up for the marathon. And yet we found almost all of the Global Heroes in that stadium. We definitely stood out in our bright shirts. 

We found Troy and Kobi - the Aussies who knew how to dress for cold weather

We found Matthew - grinning from ear to ear and ready to run.

We found Patrick and his wife - who went through multiple wardrobe malfunctions but finally figured out how to dress for the cold weather.

And I had my Doug, my running buddy, to keep me warm, help keep me on pace and help keep my emotions in check.

Fifteen minutes before race time, we headed out into the dark. The race start was at 7:09am so the sun was still well below the horizon. It was freezing cold and dark as thousands of runners filled the street. We huddled, we listened to the Star Spangled Banner, we waited for the gun to go. 

Once the gun went off, we shuffled our way to the start and, before we knew it, we were off and running. We trotted along for a few minutes and enjoyed the feeling of our bodies warming up. Soon enough we could feel our fingers and our toes again. 

We were told before the race that there would be a video camera at mile three and at the finish line. We were told that the first camera would be just past the Medtronic water station. We were told that there would be a spotter on the bridge near mile three who would keep an eye out for Global Heroes. 

We were not told that the spotters would get all excited when they saw us. We were not told that they would scream "Go Céline!!!" when we ran by. And we were certainly not told that, as we passed the Medtronic water station, there would be an announcer on a loudspeaker screaming "here comes Céline, Global Hero!!". 

Omigod. 

As we ran along, I had complete strangers come up to me and say hi. Some congratulated me. Some just gave me a high five. One was excited just to have found one of the heroes en route. 

Doug was a wonderful running buddy. He slowed his pace to match mine and we ran well together. Every once in a while he would dart up ahead and take running pictures for me. Then he would rejoin me and settle in half a step behind me so I could set the pace. 

I stopped around mile four to check my blood sugar and all was fine. Then, around mile six we caught up to Matthew and his running buddy. Matthew was darting behind a tree for a 'wee' break. 

We waved and ran on. Not long afterwards, Matthew sped by with no sign of his running buddy. He told me after the race that he resumed his run with the goal to catch "the Canada lady" and left his running buddy in the dust. I lost sight of Matthew and never caught him again. Fifteen years old with cerebral palsy and he kicked my running butt. What a hero! 

Only a few miles to go. I ran and Doug pointed out beautiful homes and lovely architecture. The route had been a hilly one and I was getting tired. Funny thing though - when you're wearing a hero costume, you can't really stop running. Because you have a job to do. 

So I did it. I kept running and, soon enough, the capital building loomed in the distance. We had made it. The fabled finish line, with the fabled cheering section was almost here. 

I waved to the spotter and they waved back before mumbling into their walkie-talkie. Céline Parent, global hero, was coming in to the finish. 

They announced my name. They announced my hero status. Doug and I joined hands and waved them in the air. I was too busy smiling to even think of shedding a tear. 

Soaking wet, freezing cold, tired and hungry - and complete elated. 

We made our way through the crowd and to the Medtronic tent where hot drinks and lots of snacks (sweet and salty) awaited us. So did grinning heroes and other friends. 

Ellie and her running buddy and husband Ryan after the 10-mile race

Mary-Jo and Rich - extraordinary event organizers 

Torbjørn - marathon runner and fellow T1

Gabriela - T1 marathon runner and her husband

Doing my post-race interview. 

The race, and the weekend, was everything I expected it would be. In fact, there were almost no surprises from start to finish. 

And yet, the weekend was overwhelming and emotional in ways that I could not have imagined. We met on Thursday - strangers from across the globe, joined because we were selected by a panel of people who had read our stories. Joined because we all had something 'wrong' with our bodies. Joined because we had found ways to overcome. 

We parted on Monday as friends. As kindred spirits. As superheroes.

The Weekend

We left our little house with the purple door early on Thursday morning. We had three suitcases and two carry-ons, each with the special Global Heroes luggage tag. I was calm and excited at the same time. I had the itinerary, I knew what to expect and knew how the weekend was going to play out. And yet I felt this deep sense that life as I knew it was going to change.

We stopped briefly in New York to switch planes for Minneapolis. I kept looking at all the other passengers hoping to spot a Global Heroes luggage tag. There could be one of them on the plane with us!! Omigod! 

I met the first hero at the airport when we arrived in Minneapolis. Kobi and his travel buddy Troy had just arrived from Sydney, Australia and were dressed for winter. I'm talking down jackets and toques. Being a good Canadian, I arrived wearing a hoodie and no jacket. Turns out Kobi and Troy had it all figured out. Little did we know it was going to turn into the coldest race weekend in 10 years... 

We arrived at the hotel and checked in with Mary-Jo, event planner extraordinaire. We then joined the other heroes in the hotel bar. I met Lance and his wife Jodie from Australia. She's a super triathlete (you know, the kind who gets their name on their race bib rather than a number) and Lance was full of stories of trying to keep up with her in various ironman races. He had decided to apply for Global Heroes this year because he couldn't apply the last few years. It falls on the same weekend as the famous Kona Ironman in Hawaii and Jodie has competed in it - twice. They spotted my triathlon necklace and asked about my races. I shuffled my feet a bit and said I had just started triathlons this year. They were so supportive and encouraging and curious about diabetes that I started to feel like a bit of a superhero myself.

More importantly, they taught me the proper way to eat TimTams - bit the opposite corners off, dip it in coffee (not too hot!) and suck. (That was the first thing I tried when I got back to work after the weekend. I think it takes some practice but it's super tasty.)

On Friday morning, the events began. We gathered at the top floor of the hotel for breakfast. I had brought a wee gift for all the heroes from Canada (ask me later about the border smuggling experience). I seized the opportunity to go around the room, shake every hero's hand and give them a bottle of good ol' Canadian maple syrup. 

I met Gary, Global Hero alumnus from 2011. He was our camp counsellor for the weekend and was a great combination of knowledgeable, funny, emotional and total crazytown. 

After breakfast, we boarded the bus and headed to Medtronic headquarters to meet the people who make the magic happen. 

It was pretty neat to see the little logo on my pump transformed into a huge sculpture on their front lawn. 

What an experience it was to be there. The building was stunning and the staff were so excited to see us. We explored the laboratories, we saw the latest technologies...

 ...and we got to ask questions. 

I asked my burning question: When will Medtronic have a waterproof pump? As a swimmer, I really really want that option. 

I took my question right to the top and asked Katie - President of Medtronic Diabetes. "Three to six months before it's out in Europe, six to nine before you get it in Canada. And it will have a colour screen and a louder alarm." 

Woohoo!!

The tour ended with an awards luncheon where we met more amazing Medtronic staff and board members. It was really neat because they were wowed by us but we were just as wowed by them. One by one, the hero stories were told and the heroes were called up to receive their award - right from the hands of Stephen Oesterle, Senior Vice President for Medicine and Technology. 

You have to love an organization that puts the accent on my name and pronounces everyone's name flawlessly. 

While he doesn't sport the official title, he definitely is my hero. 

After lunch, some of us headed back to the hotel while others hopped on a bus to tour the marathon route. Those who toured the route came back with two key messages: "it's SO beautiful" and "omigod there are SO many hills!". 

I was glad we opted to go to the expo instead. Some things are better left unseen...

Saturday morning dawned bright...and freezing. 

I'm talking 1 degree and windy with snow clouds overhead. 

We had a 9:30 photoshoot to be at - and it was outdoors. So much for having nice hair and wearing shorts and my singlet. I yanked on my running pants, long sleeved shirt, singlet, jacket, gloves and our new Medtronic toque. Hat-head be damned. 

The photoshoot included head shots:

Running shots:

(like my matching blue headband I found at the expo?)

and group shots:

Some of the crazier folks stripped right down to their shorts and singlets for their running shot. As the only Canadian, I was sensible enough to stay bundled. 

Afterwards, we all rushed back to the hotel for warm clothes. 

We had a few hours before our pre-race pasta dinner so Doug and I went out to explore St. Paul for a while. Then guess who I got to meet??

The one and only Scott Johnson!

Scott and I hung out in Port of Call for a while chatting like old friends about illegal border crossings, playing the diabetes card, the difference between a hat and a toque and the little differences we can make in people's lives that turn into big ones. Oh, and I tried to convince him to apply to be a Global Hero next year...right Scott?

Days one and two were over. The heroes had gone from strangers to acquaintances and were quickly moving on to something more. 

Tomorrow: race day!  

The Making of a Hero

When I was a little kid I used to think Aquaman was really cool. He could breathe underwater AND talk to the fishes. Then I thought Superman was really cool because he could fly AND lift really heavy stuff.

Last weekend I met a group of real heroes and discovered that Aquaman and Superman have nothing on them. 

We're home again after our Global Heroes weekend in Minneapolis/St. Paul and I am going to try very very hard to capture in words all of the emotions whirling around in my heart. I will most likely not succeed...but I will try. 

Over the next few blogs I will take you through the weekend and the race but today, I want to take you to meet some of my new friends and ask: what makes a hero? 

I learned, last weekend, the answer to that question. 

First you take a regular human being. 

And then you throw a really big challenge their way. Like cerebral palsy. Or a chronic disease. A heart condition that requires a pacemaker or an ICD. A car or a surfing accident that results in a spinal cord injury. 

And watch how they react. 

If they take it all in stride and stubbornly refuse to let the challenge get in their way, they might be a hero. 

If they hear the words "you can't" and turn them into "I can", they might be a hero. 

If they take their medical condition and use it as a motivator to do more than they ever would have done without it - they are a hero. 

I met 24 people this weekend who put Superman to shame. 

I met Lance (left) from Australia who ran a 2:56 marathon on Sunday. He has a pacemaker. Lance brought his finisher t-shirt from the Golden Coast marathon as a gift for Matthew despite having never met Matthew before. I met Matthew (right) from Florida who has cerebral palsy and an implanted drug pump to help manage muscle spasticity. He runs. Fast. He is eloquent, really funny and had us all in the palm of his hand by the end of the weekend. 

I met Pat (left) from South Africa who has a deep brain stimulator to manage the symptoms of Parkinson's disease. And Patrick from Florida who resumed running just weeks after having surgery for a serious heart condition. I met Erin who nearly died from sudden cardiac arrest and now has an ICD implanted. And Bob who, like Lance, has a pace maker. Anna (front) who suffered a spinal cord injury from a car accident and competes in races using a hand bike. 

And I met people like me. With diabetes. Sporting insulin pumps that all make the same beeping noises. Gabriela and Daniela, twin sisters from Brazil. Dave from Alaska and Torbjørn from Norway. All grinning after having met Katie (in red) from Medtronic who heads up their diabetes research. 

When we first arrived in St. Paul, we were 50 strangers. Twenty-five Global Heroes each with their travel/running buddy. I had a hard time finding out which half of each pair was the hero because everyone looked the same. Regular folks wearing regular clothes talking about regular stuff. 

But then they handed out the hero jackets. And the hero singlets. And the hero hats. And suddenly we could spot the heroes and seek them out one by one to hear their stories and to share our own. 

Every hero has a uniform. Ours is a blue jacket, grey toque and an often invisible medical device. Together they make us powerful, strong and ready to fight. For ourselves, for others, for our health and so others could feel hope when they saw us. 

When I first heard about the Global Heroes program, a little part of me thought that the name hero was a little over the top. That is, until I met them. Now I don't think it's big enough to capture the power of these superheroes. 

What I Have Learned So Far

I haven't even arrived in Minneapolis yet but I've already learned a lot about what this Global Heroes weekend is going to be like.

I've learned that I am about to be blown away by the hospitality of the Medtronic Global Heroes team.

I've learned that I am going to be humbled and inspired when I hear the stories of the other heroes.

I've learned that I am going to be amazed by the history of St. Paul, Minnesota.

I've learned that I'm going to be treated like a princess for four days.

I've learned that I'm going to be cheered on by the runners, the volunteers and the spectators at the race.

On Tuesday morning, I got up in the dark to run my last 5k run. I pulled on my running clothes, stocked my pockets with carbs, plugged in my earbud and headed out under the starry sky.

I ran, I thought about the weekend ahead, I listened to the music and I felt the deep sense of responsibility for the incredible honour that has been handed to me.

And I learned that it's really hard to run and cry at the same time.

Shaving Seconds

I am a Monday, Wednesday, Friday morning swimmer. I love that routine - it works for me, I get three great workouts in and it still leaves time for other activities.

Christine used to bug me a lot during the summer about coming to the pool more often. More mornings a week or even in the evenings. I came out one extra time during the entire twelve weeks. It was good but I really don't want to spend more than three days a week swimming. So I didn't do it again.

On Monday morning, Christine looked me in the eye and said, "you HAVE to come to the pool on Saturday". "This Saturday?" I asked, already thinking about the Medtronic race. "No, the one after - October 13th."

Ok, why?

We're doing time-trials.

Ummmm what?

Apparently, on October 13th, we will be swimming various distances (25m, 50m, 100m etc) as fast as we can and they will be timing us. Don't ask me who they are, I have absolutely no idea. This time trial will give us some sort of baseline on which to work and increase out speed.

I did a quick calendar review in my head. It's the week after the Twin Cities 10-miler and it's the week before the Niagara Falls half marathon. So I should be running 10k. I can squeeze a 10k in at some point during the weekend so...ok. I'll come.

Great!

In preparation for our time trials - we swam 50m sprints. Thirty of them. After our 900m warm-up.

One easy and four fast. Each one on a minute and fifteen seconds. Repeat six times.

"I want you to keep up your pace. Swim through the burn. Don't slow down! Your last one needs to be as fast as your first".

My first 25 were all between 47 and 48 seconds. I am a consistent little metronome and proud that, the last time we did this, my times were all about 51 seconds.

"Ok, we have four fast ones left. Céline, I want you to do them in 46 seconds!".

Thankfully I was panting too much to say what I was thinking out loud.

"Go!" she yelled.

I chased Sasha who was in the lane beside me. I chased him hard. I hit the wall and Christine yelled "forty-six seconds exactly!". Woot!

"Do it again!".

I did.

"This time, try forty-five."

I did it in 45.7 seconds.

"Last one everyone! Céline, I want a forty-four."

Damnit! I was already giving it everything I had and had already done 29 of these damn things.

"Sasha, I want you under 37 seconds."

What??

The guy was swimming under forty seconds? Bloody hell. She yelled go and I chased him hard. Normally he pulls ahead by about 12m but I kept right up to him for the first 25 metres. I lost him when he did his impeccable flip turn and I did my clumsy wall turn push routine but I could still see his bubbles and I chased those instead.

"Forty-four!!!!!" Christine yelled.

I have no idea what time Sasha did his in because he was seconds in front of me but I went from 51 seconds in July down to 47 seconds in October and then, despite having already swum 2400m, I dug deep and pulled out a forty-four second swim.

Usually, after a hard workout like that, I need to get out of the pool, shower, change, drive home and have breakfast before I can even begin to realize what a great workout it was. On Monday, as I gasped my way through the last 50m, arms aching and legs flailing, I was smiling.

I. Love. Swimming.

Oh, and next week we're apparently doing 16x100m sprints.

One One One

Last April, I ran 111km in 30 days as I trained for my half marathon. A combination of long runs, easy runs, mid-week runs and the odd hill training thrown in for fun.

This fall, I've been training for my second half marathon of 2012 (oh, and the Medtronic Twin Cities 10-miler which I am SO excited for!!). After Saturday's 20k, I entered the run into my spreadsheet and the grand total for the month popped up.

111km.

Despite skipping a long run to complete a triathlon. Despite missing a few mid-week runs in favour of resting my legs. No hill training either.

I like numbers and I love patterns.

I think it's pretty cool that two very different training months with two very different approaches to running and recovery can end up, essentially, identical.

At least on paper.

April - I was recovered from my injury and fresh after three months off and a few months of rebuilding my mileage. I was fast and frisky and ready to run.

September - I am wrapping up six months of non-stop training. I feel strong and confident - a solid runner. But I don't feel quite as fast as I did in the spring. Nor do I feel quite as bouncy. I feel like I've had a good season and I'm ready for a bit of a rest.

So, in the past few weeks, I've eased up on the number of runs as well as the distance I ran during the week - saving it for the long runs on the weekends.

I think it worked. My legs still feel good and I have no nagging aches or pains.

And apparently I still got a lot of mileage in.

One one one.

I like that number.

Lalalalalalala

Friday evening. It's Day One of the Ryder Cup which, as I've recently learned, it a really big deal.

Doug prepared a pork-chop dinner and popped it in the over. "We have an hour" he said. "Do you want something to tide you over?"

"Let me check my sugar. If it's ok, I'm fine. If it's on the low side, I'll have a snack."

I checked.

The glucometer said 2.8.

????

I felt 100% fine. Even when I saw that number looking at me, I still felt fine. No low symptoms kicked in - which sometimes happens when I check and discover that I'm lower than I think I am.

I don't get it.

I don't believe it.

I checked again.

The glucometer said 4.2.

That's better.

But scary.

I rarely second guess my glucometer readings. If it says 5.0, 10.0 or 15.0, I bolus or treat accordingly.

Two checks, ten seconds apart, went from 2.8 to 4.2.

I treat a 4.2 very differently than I treat a 2.8.

I treated for a 4.2 feeling a little less confident in the medical technology that is there to keep me healthy and, even though I hate to think about it this way, keep me alive.

What if my glucometer is off on a regular basis? Would that account for some of the unexplained highs and lows I see? Or worse, what if my pump was a little off and gave me a little too much insulin? Or a lot too much?

I poured a glass of wine and sat down to watch the Ryder Cup - resolving NOT to think about THAT.