Back in Action

Well honestly I've been in action...that's why I haven't posted in so long. My computer broke down and you just are really cut off from the present day world without a computer - it's amazing and a little frustrating. So it's winter time in the mountains now, to my slight dismay, but I want to challenge myself to stay active this winter and enjoy the cold weather by embracing it fully. This might mean running gloves and fleece sweaters, but I intend on running and backpacking and hiking whenever I can. Lately it's been mostly running and hiking which has been great. Hopefully there will be some fun races coming up with hot chocolate waiting at the end (it's worth running five miles if you can have a cup of chocolate to bring your blood sugar back up!)
A little background on this running habit: My dad got into it first; he attacks new physical hobbies with a fervor and diligence that is unmatched by most people of any age that I know. So at 58 my father plunged into the world of running, and not just for fitness, but for competition. He skipped right over the 5k, right past the 8k, laughed at the 10k, and began to run in half-marathons and do 2 hour long training runs four times a week. He is out of control. Consequently I agreed to run in a 5k with him, didn't train, and had a great (albeit slow) time. In the last stretch something clicked that felt like freedom; my legs churning and heart racing I pounded through the finish line not exhausted but exhilirated. I realized that if I trained a little bit, this torture could be rewarding, even...fun. But of course diabetes brings extra concerns.
Could I run a race longer than three miles and maintain my blood sugar? Was it safe to run in a big crowd at all with the chance of passing out looming over me? What about training runs? How could I train and be safe. Press myself and not endanger myself? Run without a fannie pack and still have what I need?
I certainly have not completely figured it out. For the 5k it felt safe enough to wake up and take half as much insulin as I usually take for breakfast, eat a piece of peanut butter toast and half a banana, and wedge a honey zinger packet in my sports bra. For the 10k that I trained for after that first race I had a lot more doubts and fears. It was a trail run with fewer participants. What if I ran three miles into the woods and my blood sugar got low and I was alone and didn't have what I needed and people are speeding by and they are sure not going to stop and and and and and.....SO, I trained. And as I increased my miles in training I learned how long my high blood sugar would stay high before I had run it off. I learned how much running would bring me down, how I could eat beforehand and at what insulin level I could maintain a sufficient blood sugar throughout the whole run. I always carried a full plastic honey bear during my runs. I just carried it in my hand like a weight. With over 100g of carbs in my hand I didn't need to be afraid at all.
On race day I didn't want anything to slow me down, not a water bottle, honey bear, or lingering fear of low blood sugar. I woke up in a campsite where I was staying with my parents near Dupont Forest where the race was held. For breakfast I took half my usual dose of insulin and ate whole grain toast with spun honey and almond butter. Once we had arrived at the parking lot I checked my blood sugar. It was around 175. Knowing how drastically running had been lowering my blood sugar I decided to eat half of a banana and a little more honey. I didn't want to carb up so much that I felt sluggish during the race and couldn't run my blood sugar back down. I was anxious to start running and put some steps behind me. In a flash we were lined up behind the starting line, the whistle blew, and we were off.
I had two honey zingers with me, one in each side of my sports bra, and two extra mini honey packets. In the miniature pocket in my shorts I had a small lara bar, sort of a last resort. It probably was way more carbs than I needed, but I have experienced some powerful and persistent lows in my time as a diabetic, so I wanted to feel secure. Anyway to do it over again I would have taken a little less insulin, because within the first mile I felt myself dropping suddenly. As my pace steadied and I popped open the mini honey packets I stabilized a little. I was feeling pretty good. Up ahead in the trail I saw a woman stopped, and in front of her another woman down. Closer up I realized they were two girls from a local track team and one had sprained her ankle. The standing girl said she would be fine, but I told her I would run up and tell the people at the water station that someone was hurt. I thought the station was about a quarter of a mile so I started sprinting for it. Half a mile of sprinting later I realized it was further than I had thought, but I was close now so I kept up the speed. By the time I reached the station I had covered a fast mile to let them know about the girl. Running moderately now away from the station, I realized the brilliant freedom that that mission had allowed me from worry about my blood sugar. I could feel it was still dropping into dangerous territory but I was nearly halfway through the race and knew I could manage it with the carbs I had.
Somewhere climbing and curving through padded pine forest trails I squeezed a zinger packet into my mouth and stuffed the sticky wrapper back into my pocket. The status of my blood sugar slipped out of my head as the race got harder and I could only concentrate on planting one foot in front of the other on the uneven trail. Then I hit the hill. The hill from hell. A straight up rocky mountain that was the .4 incline before the .6 mile decline. No one was running it. I tried to maintain a runner's stance, but I think if I'd run it I would have slid right back down. In what felt like two grueling hours I reached the peak and saw the blessed downhill and just let gravity do what it's made for. I let the brakes go and flew down that mountain hopping over roots and dodging rocks. By the time the trail leveled out again I felt like one of those toy matchbox cars that you pull backwards to charge up before you release it and zooooooom..........it's off. That lasted for about a half mile, and then the reality of the last mile and a half set in. It was a long, hard reality. At five miles I probably passed the longest consecutive distance I'd ever run before. I was pacing with an older man in front of me and a high school track runner behind me. We were the dream trio, each fighting for the lead on the narrow trail. Just when I thought my lungs would burst and that I wouldn't make the 10k running I heard cheers up ahead. Stopping had never been an option but I realized it now. I chugged on, clumsy and woozy. My pace was slowing but I heard a familiar yell with quite a bit of southern charm in it. Rounding the corner I saw my mother clapping and cheering - she had walked down about an 1/8 of a mile to cheer me on before the last straightaway in the open field. It was just the shout I needed to lay on the gas and run with all I had left in me. I thought of hiking out of Linville Gorge, I thought of gazelles, I thought of breakfast later, and I ran fast and happy. I crossed the finish line with determination and joy on my face, I think. My time ended up being 1 hour 5 minutes and 3 seconds. Yes, my dad beat me. But I ran the whole thing and finished strong and that was enough to turn my thoughts to the next race.