There are race days where everything is wrong. You wake up late, you don’t get what you wanted for breakfast, you forget your inhaler, your blood sugar is running in the 300s, and within in the first tenth of a mile of the race you pronounce, I’m done.

That was my 2010 Santa Fe Triathlon race.

I was done before I even began. For the first time ever I had very active thoughts of a DNF (for the non racers out there that’s a Did Not Finish). I was fully prepared to not complete the race, even worse, I didn’t care. (Which begs the question, who was this person that showed up for the race on Saturday, because come hell or high water, I’d never DNF. I might finish dead last crawling across the finish line, but I’d still finish.)

Despite an episode of mental quitting, I continued on. Despite everything that was against me: stupidly high blood sugars and not having my inhaler; I had the best race I’ve ever had.

The Santa Fe Sprint Triathlon is a reverse tri. Run is first, swim is last. I used to curse these reverse tris because by the time I got to the swim I had poured all my energy out on the road that I couldn’t see straight to swim. Now, they’re my favorite. I’ve decided that I’d rather not have the energy for the swim than not have the energy for the run, because I can run when I apply myself but because I’m lazy and have no desire to train, my swim always sucks whether it’s first or last.

Run
We’ll ignore the fact that when I started running my blood sugar was 300. We’ll ignore the fact that I forgot my inhaler.

I was about a tenth of a mile into the run when my head went to a deep dark place. I was done. I didn’t want to do the race. I had every intention of a DNF. I was going to turn around, go pack up my stuff and go home and back to bed. But my body just kept running. Racing really is a mental thing…because the body will keep going until it can’t.

My body running turned out to be a good thing. It was a mile and a half before I got lazy and I started walking, but then people starting passing me and I got pissed so I started running. Then I got lazy and started walking, and again I was being passed so I started running. The third time I had to stop because my shoe was untied and I was lazy so I was walking, but I got passed and started running. It’s not that I can’t run, it’s that I’m too lazy to run, I don’t want to run. But I did run, and my walking was minimal, we’re talking a total of less than a tenth of a mile minimal.

I ran 3.2 miles in 30:34. That there is an excellent run for me, because in the past running anything less than an 11 minute mile pace was too much work and I don’t typically want to exert that much energy. I averaged 9:33 miles…that is a rockstar moment for me, I was so excited.

Run time: 30:34

T1
There are races when I have really good transition times (<1:30) and there are races where I have sucky transition times. This race wasn't sucky, but it wasn't great. What's funny is that as I'm in transition, I'm thinking about how my time is sucking. I've decided that checking my blood is taking too much effort and that I have to streamline it. I think it's because I don't multitask while checking my blood.

Blood sugar post run: 312

T1 Time: 2 min

Bike
Bike is my specialty and my favorite. I got on my bike with high expectations. The last 12 mile ride I did in a race I did in 44 minutes, I was fast; so I figured I’d be at least as fast or faster on this ride. I went out and I went out strong, I came in strong as well. It was a rolling hills course which I’ve never really experienced in NM; usually it’s a couple large hills, but not up hill down hill repeat and repeat again. There was really only one part where I was miserable and that was on a hill right before the turn around. I blame my miserableness to me not taking in my normal CarbBoom between swim and bike and I blame that on my high blood sugar.

The cool thing about the bike was that there was this one girl Amy, and her and I would pass each other regularly so we’d always call out to each other and that was huge encouragement.

My bike wasn’t as fast as my race in May, but this course was harder. I finished in 49:12. At first I was depressed, but upon reminder that this was a harder course, I am happy with my bike time.

Bike Time: 49:12

T2
Another transition, and again it sucked…When I think of proper placement in the transition area it goes something like this: do I want my bike close to the start line so that I don’t have to run it down the transition area before my ride or do I want it close to the finish line so that I don’t have to run it down the transition area after my ride. I’ve come to the conclusion that they equally suck.

My blood sugar rang in at 278 and my total time was 3 minutes. I attribute the longer time to the longer run from transition to the swim…

Blood Sugar Post Bike: 278

T2 Time: 3 minutes.

Swim
I don’t train to swim. I don’t care much for the swim. If I’d apply myself, I could have a good swim. But I don’t apply myself. I hate being in the water, with people in my lane, touching me, swimming over me, being butts about their position in front of me.

I decided this swim I wasn’t even going to free style it, it was an olympic size pool and I knew that I go out too fast and then I’m exhausted half way down the lane, so I got in, flipped onto my back, and backstroked the entire swim. I kept running into the lane dividers because there was no straight line of flags to guide me and the pipes in the ceiling ran diagonal to the pool. I didn’t much care. My only real goal was to be faster than the last miserable swim I did in my last race. And I did just that. My last swim was 15:37…I beat that time by 1:42 seconds. I was pleased. Maybe next race I’ll do even better, or at least, I’ll aim for that goal

Swim Time: 13:55

Total: 1:38:41

InSight Foto took our pictures and I really like this shot that they captured:

I’ve been a fan of cycling for 3 years now, but this is the first year that I’ve shown much interest in the Tour de France. But really, my interest isn’t all that much because all you hear is crap about how everyone’s doping, about how peeps of past times are blaming peeps of doping, about how uncool of a move this cyclist or that cyclist made. It really just takes all the fun out of enjoying a race for a race. With all that said, here’s some of my thoughts…and questions which I’ve not gotten around to googling yet.

1) I’m tired of hearing about Lance, it’s always been about Lance, and yeah, he’s won the Tour de France 7 times, but still, new guys are rising up and yet it’s still all about Lance. He’s done an amazing thing but it’s time for a new era of cyclists to rise up in the news.

2) Why is it a team sport, why would any cyclist want the job of setting someone else up for a win. Why not pushing to win it for yourself? Someone please explain to me why anyone would want to be the person that holds someone’s hand to the finish line and then lets go so that the other person can take all the victory.

3) For as much as I’m tired about hearing about Lance, I do have one comment, why save his legs. It’s most likely his last Tour de France and he wants to “save his legs”. Why not go out with a bang? It’s more exciting that way.

4) What’s with respecting the peeps in the yellow jersey, why does everyone have to stop if the yellow jersey has to go potty or has a mechanical problem? It’s a race and the goal is to win the race, so why does the rider in the yellow jersey hold so much power…isn’t the goal to have the yellow jersey for oneself?

5) I like the polka dot king of the mountain jersey…I don’t like climbing hills much but if I had a chance to get a polka dot jersey I think I’d try my hardest.

6) Why are there no women in the Tour de France?

7) Since Lance is no longer a podium contender why isn’t he supporting his teammates in getting them to the podium?

Next year I’m gonna find me a fantasy Tour de France league and choose my cyclists the same way I choose my teams for march madness: jersey colors and location.

9) If the riders have to pee while racing, do they pee while cycling like ultramarathon runners pee while running?

10) What would happen to the Tour de France if some of these cyclists couldn’t have their crazy “i’m eating but i’m not eating” habits to keep their body fat nonexistent? When I say crazy habits I refer to “i’m gonna chew my food but spit it out instead of swallowing”…and how is that even useful to the body?

6 weeks ago I decided I needed an adventure. So, I signed up for the Valles Caldera Half Marathon. One should note that I haven’t done any kind of serious running since I was training for the Disney World Marathon back in the winter of 2008. So, for me to decide to take on not just a half marathon, but a half marathon in the mountains was huge. It was even huge-er (yes, that is a word, ask me I’ll tell you so) because there was this thing right in the middle of my half marathon that I so lovingly refer to as the “space needle”. What that translates to for a normal person is a “Mount Gigantasaurus is in my way and I have to go over it”.

See:

Enough of the backstory. We’re moving onto the good stuff…RACE DAY!!!

Any good race is done with my Outlaws and there were quite a few of us there. We were all doing different distances. Some were doing the full marathon, some the half, and some the 10k. But we were all out there and that’s all that matters.

We were supposed to start at 8:30 but because of a fire near the start line, we were delayed. I would’ve stopped to get a picture except it was at the start and I had to behave like a serious runner (for all of a quarter mile, haha).

Here I am milling around at the start with Misty.

When the gun went off, I took off running. It wasn’t the smartest thing in the world, but it’s what start lines do to me. But that first mile-ish we were running through smoke. It wasn’t long before I couldn’t breathe. It took 2 miles for me to even out my breathing. But then I was good to go and happy. When I got to mile 4, I was averaging a 13 min per mile pace which at that elevation and in the mtns, I was ecstatic with.

But then, I had to go up space needle.

Remember Space Needle:

It took me 50 minutes to go 1.75 miles. The climb was crazy.

This was one part where I stopped to take a picture (yes, I stopped to take pictures, how often do you get to run in a national preserve?)

At about 5.75 miles, I was having myself a bad attitude moment because I thought I had to ascend another 1000ft (that’s a lot!)…so I stopped and took a picture because taking pictures makes me happy…nevermind that the picture doesn’t look happy

After I was lamenting the fact that I thought I needed to climb another 1k feet, I turned the corner and there was a rest stop where I got told I was at the top (this was mile 6). I did a little dance and got excited and continued on my way.

Then, at mile 6.25, I caused a rockslide (little rocks, but dangerous rocks). I almost fell, but instinct kicked in and falling wasn’t an option so I twisted myself to not fall. I proceeded to pull my groin, hip, and outside of knee muscle. It was a sad state of affairs. It hurt to run. But being the bonehead that I am, I only half listened to my body and would proceed to run as much as possible until it hurt too much to run over the next 7 miles.

When I got down the mountain and off the service road we were in a beautiful meadow with a little creek we had to jump over. I took this picture long after I jumped over the creek. There were no logs for me to walk across, so, I jumped and landed on my feet and hands, I think it probably looked pretty funny.

The meadow was beautiful. There was a bit of an obstacle course as I wove across it. There were places there there were downed trees and I was hopping on tip toes through them. Much of my crossing the meadow was in a tree-y area, but then I came to a clearing that was so awesomely beautiful, I had to stop and take a picture (this was somewhere between miles 9 and 10).

The final climb for the last couple miles was pretty brutal but I had come across some peeps by this time so we all encouraged each other along. I did go running the last quarter mile or so just so that I was running when I passed all the peeps that were waiting around for their loved ones and so that I was running across the finish line (there’s not point in walking across a finish line, it’s not all that fun, I know that for a fact).

We got a nice finishers medal, which I always appreciate. It’s so nice to have a new piece of race bling because I haven’t had one since January 2009.

My garmin had me finishing in 3:30, the official race results are saying 3:38:59. I’m more inclined to go with what my watch said because we didn’t have timing chips, they were manually entering our numbers on the computer as quickly as they could be called out and our tags ripped off. Whichever one you want to go with, I’m all kinds of happy. It was a very difficult course and I did very well. There is room for improvement and next year will see that improvement when I do the race again.

As I was riding today in the Albuquerque Century Tour de Cure I was tweeting and txting a friend who was also riding. This was a recap of my ride (stuff in parens is my commentary):

6AM 1 hr to ride time

7:55 13 miles down

9:10 30 miles in, have yet to see 2nd stop station

9:36 35 miles. 2nd rest stop. half way there. blood sugars holding up. still feeling good. starting to get hot.

10:46 42 miles in. out in the middle of nowhere. my joy is gone (had been riding for 7 miles at a 7-9mph pace in an atrocious headwind at this point, and there really was nothing out there, couldn’t even shortcut the route)

11:56 not done yet. 56 miles in. cramped up and hurtin. i want ice cream.

11:58 it’s really bad when riders are lookin for gas stations to get water

11:59 oh. but I got to go fast down a hill (37 mph) so I’m good and my blood sugars are still holding up

12:08PM 57 miles. rest stop 3

1:06 69 miles done. i do not want to see a bike for a very long time

1:47 ok. i’m all better now. & I look forward to the next time i see my bike. a rockstar (recovery, love that non-carbonated lemonade stuff) and a good positive convo with the race director fixed me

2:06 hahaha covered in salt. i think that means i had a good hard ride.

2:31 i have a salt stain on the crotch of my shorts. lol

3:47 my butt has “hey i was riding my bike for 69 miles” scrapes. that’s a first. (it actually isn’t my butt, it’s more like my thighs, and they hurt, and they’re not so much scraped as they are rubbed raw)

More in-depth posts to come soon, but I wanted to post this while it was fresh on the brain

Race days, charity ride days, any sporting event day that I had to pay to participate in …those days cause inordinate amounts of excitement.

I’m like a little kid at Christmas time who’s all giddy because they know they’re going to get something great under the Christmas tree. They can’t sleep, they can’t wait till everyone else is awake, they stand at the tree jumping up and down until they get a gift in their hand. Can you see it? It’s possible you were one of those kids.

The excitement begins with packet pick up which is typically the day before the race. We go, sign our lives away on waivers and get our race bib and goody bag. At most races we get a tshirt of some sort and a water bottle. But for me, more exciting than the tshirt and water bottle is the race bib. The race bib is like that one present you get to open on Christmas Eve. It’s the one that starts you thinking “oh man, tomorrow’s gonna rock, I got a great gift today I can’t see what’s under the tree tomorrow.”

Then tomorrow comes and we’re racing. There’s all kinds of excitement. You drive to the place where the event starts and get all excited to see other vehicles with bikes on them, or maybe stickers that say: Ironman, 26.2, USAT, 140.6, My sport is your sport’s punishment, etc. People are getting out of their cars and getting ready to race and we’re jumping around or stretching to warm up. We’re pulling the gear out of our cars. The adrenaline rush begins.

We move to the start line and hear the gun and we’re off. There’s something about being in a large pack of people that are doing what you’re doing, enjoying it right along side you that makes race days like Christmas morning.

The gift of it all is knowing that you went out there and did something that so few people do when you look at the whole world as a whole. It’s knowing that you went out there and accomplished something. It’s knowing that there’s something exciting about knowing that your race results are posted on the web for all eternity. It’s just a beautiful thing.

It’s exhilarating, it’s hard to contain, and you can’t wait till the next time you get to be there with “your” people, doing it again. It’s a craved thing. It’s an exciting thing. It’s an adrenaline pumping thing. It’s a thing, a Christmas day like thing.

This post comes a day late because instead of writing about my biggest supporter, I kicked around and tried to think about who, in my 18 years of diabetes has been my biggest supporter. The problem was that for 15 of those years the most often heard words were “you can’t”. I have yet to find support in those words. If at any time in all of the “you can’ts” something positive was said, it got buried in anger, resentment, and hate; or maybe it never even got heard.

Before I can talk about support, I need to talk about “you can’t”. The words “you can’t” breed one of two attitudes in me: defeat or watch me. Defeat is where I was those first 15 years of diabetes. Sure, people tried to help by telling me to get help, but that wasn’t the support I needed. In fact, I wouldn’t call it support, it made me angry and frustrated. It wasn’t until I took on the “watch me” attitude that I can recall supporters coming out of the woodwork. Strangely enough, many of them were the same ones that had told me “you can’t”.

So, there’s my mom. She’s proud of me for what I do, for deciding that I could do all that I was told I couldn’t do with diabetes. She’s proud that I have taken the wheel and take care of my diabetes enough so that I can cycle for a cure, run marathons, and compete in triathlons. Nowadays, when I get down, she’s the reminder of all the stuff I can do when I can’t see past all that I can’t do. When I’m kicking and screaming about the hell that the inconsistency and unpredictably in my blood sugars causes and how it limits me; she’s the gentle reminder that I can still do what I want, just not the extreme that I was planning.

There’s Lolo, who has her head on straight because most times mine definitely is not. She’ll be the voice of reason, let me argue and go do my own thing and then a couple weeks time be the person that says “you should listen to me more often”. Which I should because she knows what she’s talking about. Lolo understands because she has diabetes, we’ve been the same places, she can connect with me and me with her. She works hard to keep me in a place of PMA (positive mental attitude).

There’s my tri-mom, who, besides supporting me in mutlisport racing, has helped me in a way I’m not sure she’s aware of. There’s so many different nutrition quirks related to racing that I thought I had to do because of having diabetes and trying to prevent low blood sugars while being out there. In talking to her and what she does when she’s racing an Ironman event, I learned that those nutrition quirks that I was so desperately fighting to avoid don’t exist because I have diabetes, they exist because I’m an endurance athlete. She’s the person I probably train the most with and if anyone knows me they know I don’t train. But it’s her and her husband that took me hiking in the fall and snowshoeing in the winter. It’s her that I cycle with the most. Throughout it all she has yet to express frustrations with having to stop because I’m fighting with blood sugars.

There’s a special friend who understands that I need to have things to work towards and things to look forward to, and when everyone else is verbally beating me down and telling me to lay off, she says just the right things. She encourages me, champions me to get out there and do things. She doesn’t have diabetes but she’ll listen to me, she won’t pretend to understand and she never says that she understands, she lets me unload without judging. Just in listening to me, she gains understanding for future events and she can piece things in my diabetic life together. She doesn’t sugarcoat things and she won’t say something if I’m in a frustrated place, she’s intuitive and waits till I’m in a good place to receive a tidbit of knowledge before she’ll give her opinion.

Of course, there are so many other supporters in my life, but these are the ones that came to the top of my mind. If you ask me on a different day or about supporting a different part of my life, you’ll get different names.

*sings* the food just keeps lifting me higher and higher *ends singing*

One can’t think about making a low blood sugar go without thinking of the old treatments that we try to abandon in favor of new treatments. But when thinking about what I prefer to make the low go I really couldn’t nail a preference. What I did come back to time and time again was “who decided that we should eat 15 carbs and wait 15 minutes check our blood sugar and do it all over again?” I’m sure there’s a good answer for that question and for the logic behind what I like to call “that stupidity” but in thinking about “that stupidity” what I finally landed on was…

Wait for it…

There isn’t one particular food, snack, treat, indulgence…no, there’s just a want for food, a lot of food, an over indulgence in whatever food I choose. The choosing of the food usually begins by staring into the full but seemingly so empty cupboard because nothing sounds good. Then perhaps I move to the fridge. Then if I still find nothing I go to my room and look for my secret stashes. Eventually, I’ll choose something, and when I do, as previously stated, I’ll over indulge; eating far more than necessary, but loving every moment of it. Sometimes, I’ll go back for something else…eventually, I’ll stop eating and like any sensible creature, take a nap. Because really, the best cure for a low isn’t the food, it’s what follows the food

This week is diabetes blog week. Each day has a different theme. Today is “An Average Day in the Life of A Person With Diabetes”. Seeing as how I don’t often follow rules and logic to me says that anyone participating in this is going to tell of their average/typical day of diabetes, I wanted to step out of the box and share what it’s like to be a diabetic on the day of a race…In my case, on the day of a triathlon (In particular, yesterday).

5:30 alarm goes off. Wake up and groan because it’s 5:30 in the morning. Ponder snoozing a bit longer but bypass because I’ve got a race to get to and a transition area to set up and people to talk to.

5:35 stand up and look around the room. I still don’t want to be up, my bed was nice and warm. Grab a syringe and take 12u of Levimir to carry me through the day. Hop in the shower.

5:45 out of the shower, dressed for race, running down the stairs. Slide into the kitchen. Get waterbottles/food out of fridge and load race bag.

5:53 throw 4 sausage biscuits into the microwave. 46 carbs total. Nice blend of carbs and protein.

5:56 check blood sugar. 230. Frown because I screwed up the night before in my efforts to wake up with a decent number. Take 4 units novolog for the sausage biscuits and 2 more of the lame blood sugar. Normally would’ve taken 4.5 for the food and 3 for the blood sugar but it’s a race day and I can’t afford a low so I take less.

6:00 out the door.

7:18 250. Mouth is feeling cottony so I check my blood. little higher than I like. but it’s really only been 1.5 hours since I ate. My brain says it will come down. Drink some water, I really hate that cottony feeling.

7:46 300. Slightly freak out. this is not where I want to be with my blood sugar. My wave goes off in 45 minutes, I don’t have time for ridiculous numbers. Drink some water and take 1 unit of insulin. It’s dangerous for me to take insulin before running/biking/swimming or doing any kind of exercise because active insulin seems to work better when i’m exercising and I drop like a rock. I don’t like dropping like a rock.

8:12 303. It’s only been 30 minutes since the last check and shot of insulin…still i should’ve come down a tad…this isn’t looking good…I don’t want to take anymore insulin though, i’m about to run. Drink some water to take care of my cotton mouth.

8:35 My wave goes off and I run…I go out way too fast for me. I was running with the 7:30-8 minute a mile peeps. I made it a little over a quarter of a mile at that pace. So then I start walking…and from that point on I run 4 minutes and then I walk a minute all the way to the end (Gotta love having Team in Training peeps racing…they always have watches and we can keep time with them). I run for a total of 3 miles.

9:12 186. post run number is decent. Wonder why I couldn’t have started here but don’t have time to wonder long. It’s now bike time. I eat a Carb BOOM! and wash it down with some water for 23 carbs and an energy boost. I ride for a little over 12 miles at a decent clip. There was a decent headwind and hills too. It was work to ride, but it was a good work.

9:59 175. Post bike number is decent. It’s a good place to start the swim at. My mouth is still feeling cottony so I drink some more water. I run to the pool for a 400m swim. Swimming usually drops my blood sugar in a bad way, but at this point I can barely see straight anyways and my blood sugar isn’t low so I’m not to worried about going low.

10:24 161. Post swim number. Still doing decent. At this point I’m not expecting to drop any further. I’m done with my race. In celebration I drink a Rockstar Recovery. It has 2 carbs, it’s not carbonated and it’s basically lemonade (with all kinds of good stuff to give you energy).

11:54 152 lunch time. I’m hungry. I’ve just raced. I had a good chicken salad with bowtie pasta, chicken, chickpeas still in their skins, and grapes. I also had some chips and salsa and a brawt for protien. I’m full and happy.

1:30 I get home and know I didn’t take insulin for lunch. I grab a grapefruit Izze drink that has 31 carbs. I end up taking 5 units of novolog for the 50 carbs at lunch and 3 more for the Izze. (I’m lazy here and completely ignore the fact that I should’ve checked my blood before taking insulin. But I also don’t care too much at this time.)

1:45 I run water for a nice bubble bath. The Izze and a book come with me. It is here that I spend the next several hours. This is a mandatory post race tradition I have.

4:30 I remove myself from the bath and start to think about how dinner is just around the corner.

4:45 480 pages into my book I decide that I am bored with it and deeply start thinking about eating dinner. While I’m thinking I eat a fruit leather. It’s 12 carbs and not only did I not check before eating it, but I didn’t take insulin for it either. This is a very bad habit of mine. But don’t worry, I’ll eventually get around to checking and dosing.

5:13 205. Dinner time. Part of that number is the fruit leather. Mentally mark 3u for correction. I have some rice and 2 more fruit leathers for a grand carb intake of…drum roll please…114 grams. I take 2 units of novolog.

9:10 171. Bedtime. It’s been a long day and I’m exhausted. No way I’m going to make it to 10pm. 1 unit novolog for correction and 12 units of levemir to hold me till morning.

The Incredible Hulk had a CGM. Tony Stark has a glucose monitor. What kind of diabetes apparatus will the next superhero sport?

I’ll guess we’ll see, but for a moment, let us focus on what I did see. Because, what I saw made me immediately, and out loudly, say “I want one of those”.

It was small and square and Tony put his thumb to it and a number popped up immediately. Who would’ve thought that the man behind Iron Man had to check his blood.

What he had was slick. No, it was more like sexy in my technological diabetes world.

There were no test strips, no external make your finger bleed pricking device. It didn’t even have to count down to the result. Heck, I don’t even know if he had to bleed to get a number, but he did cringe a little and kind of flick his hand that motioned to me that it hurt maybe just a tad. But then again, when we’re checking our blood 5-8 times a day and we’ve been doing it for years on end, when do we not feel a bit of pain with each finger prick?

So, I know that often in movies and even more so in our modern age with all the CGI we have at our disposal that things on screen make us wonder where “ours” is. It’s like back 25 years ago when I was watching The Jetsons and I was for sure that we’d have flying vehicles in the future (here we are in 2010, that seems like the future to me). Where are our flying cars?

The same question goes for this device that Tony Stark was using to check the toxicity levels in his blood. It doesn’t seem so outlandish that we can’t have something like that nowadays. I would find it hard to believe that the technology doesn’t exist to create such a device.

I want Tony Stark’s Glucose Monitor.

At a recent doctor’s visit there was a decent sized conversation about how I really need to be checking my blood even when I’m pissed and my blood sugars are high and there’s no desire to check. (I mean, come on, if I know I’m high, why should I check…no one wants to see a high number *said sarcastically while rolling eyes*)

Blood checking has been a recent problem for me. Anger towards diabetes has been a recent problem for me. There was a conversation about rerouting that anger in a direction that wasn’t going to destroy my body down the road, like cycling or running or kick boxing, all things I do…I told my doctor that’s all fine and dandy until I get pissed off at diabetes at the end of my activity because I’m low and whatever anger I vented is back.

She said this is where checking my blood and keeping track of my numbers will greatly help me. I already knew this. I hate tracking my numbers, paying attention to my numbers, having my numbers bother me for any amount of time past me taking a shot and eating…tracking numbers is not enjoyable. I’ve tried over and over and over again to log, but it gets boring…and a million other problems are associated with it…like making me neurotic and causing the clock to run my life and…and…and…other stuff i can’t seem to think of right now…it’s just a royal pain in the butt…i think that sums up logging.

But I’m doing it…or, I’ve started doing it; and I’m going to reward myself for doing it. Rewards are important and sadly having happy numbers and a happy A1c isn’t enough reward for me…mostly because the work it takes to get to that point isn’t instantly rewarding…like, I’ll be rewarded down the road in the future by my eyes still working and not having neuropathy or my kidneys still working…I like instant rewards…

So, I’m starting with 2 weeks. If I keep my log for 2 weeks (14 whole days) and if I can successfully do that, I’m rewarding myself with something small that I’ve wanted for a while now.

A Cage Rocket!

I hate being a pack horse when it comes to my stuff…especially the stuff required for diabetes care while I’m out riding and the Cage Rocket excites me because it can hold a whole slew of stuff.

So, 2 weeks of logging will equal a Cage Rocket. I know I can just go buy this now, I know I can buy it if I don’t do my logging, but I’m going to try and hold myself accountable and not get this toy that I want until I’ve successfully logged two weeks in a row…

Hold me to it, ask questions, ask for pictures even…one day, hopefully sooner rather than later, I’ll have 14 days in a row of logging.