gadget

gadget

Wednesday, April 27

a different kind of coaster

My diabetes turns into a roller coaster at least three times a week, and there's never any fun to it: an over-treated low blood sugar becomes a high blood sugar in minutes; that high number gets corrected by insulin and plummets again; and over, and over, and over again. Let's call it THE DIABEAST. It is the worst coaster in the world.

I haven't been to Canada's Wonderland since I was diagnosed with type 1. It was the cool thing to do back when I was 11, 12, 15, and now I want to go again. But there's a problem. When I started using an insulin pump in April of '09 (happy two year anniversary, my pump!) I was told explicitly not to ride roller coasters. Blood sugar roller coasters, of course, are allowed--even expected--but real coasters were out of the picture. No explanation was ever given. Up until this point I've just accepted it as another fact of my crap life: no candy, no pizza, no roller coasters, no fun.

(image via)

This week I decided to research the validity of this myth. I was only able to find one legitimate source; the rest was just overly involved parents spouting off on Disney message boards. Here's what Animas has to say:



Amusement Parks


- Very powerful electromagnets are sometimes used on "free-fall" amusement park rides. Insulin pumps should be REMOVED AND NOT TAKEN on these "free-fall" types of rides.


- High gravity forces can be experienced when riding on some roller coasters. It is recommended that you disconnect (NOT suspend) the pump while on roller coaster rides.


Um, what? Looks like the only ride I'm going to be riding is THE DIABEAST, forever. Well, maybe the Ghoster Coaster too. That one's pretty harmless. 

Tuesday, April 19

Mackinac Island

I don't know where, how or when I found out about Michigan's Mackinac Island, a little summer island that rests near the northern tip of Lake Huron, but I want to go there.



Mackinac has been a popular summer tourist destination since the 1800s; only 400 people live there year-round. It's accessible by ferry and plane, and the island is almost completely car-free. Think of it as Toronto Island's much bigger sister. It's grandest hotel, the aptly named Grand Hotel, is so pretty it makes me sick. The place is overrun by lilacs every spring and tourists rent bikes or horses to get around. I think I might die there.




(images via 1, 2, 3, 4)

Wednesday, April 13

21km and Type 1: Extended Pause

So my IT band pain has not subsided. I have done lots to correct the problem--lots for me, which includes anything beyond trying to ignore its existence--and yet, the pain still nags. Two physiotherapy sessions brought me some stretches, some ultrasound, and some relief, but I still can't run more than 4km without feeling that familiar twinge along the outside of my knee.

As most runners know, this is heartbreaking. I was forced to stop halfway through my run on Monday afternoon and walked home, sobbing the whole way. Losing my shit probably isn't the best way to handle this problem, but my emotions can't be controlled at this point. Runner's Limbo sucks.

I'd planned on running the 15km Bread and Honey in Streetsville on June 4th, and maybe I can still get there(!), but this needs to be my reality for the time being:



Thanks for this, strange mumbly guy on YouTube. I've been pulling out his diy stretch everywhere: while watching tv, in the kitchen, at work watching to make sure no coworkers are walking by. I've tried to be sneaky but it doesn't even matter; I look ridiculous and it hurts like hell. I'm also going to give in and buy a foam roller tonight  for massaging my leg (sidenote: "giving in" costs approximately $30).

I'm hopeful, but I'm still emotional. The only thing this hiccup has taught me is that I can no longer afford to be lax about anything when it comes to my running. My focus over the past two years has been maintaining blood sugar control when I run; form, speed, and stretching all fell by the wayside. This is my wake-up call. This is up to me now: do I want to be a diabetic who runs or a diabetic runner? It's gotta be the latter.

Tuesday, April 12

The Worst Ride at Disneyworld


We went to Disney World, for a day, back in February. We toured the Magic Kingdom because we couldn't afford the "park hopper" ticket option--an extra $60, on top of $80 already spent-- but we did it from top to bottom. I mean, we went on every ride, even the ones where Devan could barely fit inside the cars.

I had been to the park twice before; when I was 3 (all of my memories of this trip are skewed, full of things I made up and moments cribbed from TV shows), and again when I was 11 (during the age of the Tower of Terror). This time around, it wasn't familiar. Since when did all of the rides involve bobbing down a river, surrounded by animatronic freaks?

Admittedly, we went on the Pirates of the Caribbean late in the day, and the ride did stop halfway, leaving us stuck in our boat staring at a skeleton, but it just felt so lame. There's no way kids could be tricked by that, right?

And yet, I've been tricked by this: OPI's tie-in collection for the new POTC movie. I definitely won't be seeing this movie, but I definitely will be buying Stranger Tides, a gloomy gray green that hopefully finds its way up to Canada in May.


I'm finally at an age where nail polish excites me more than Disney World. It's official; I am old.

(images via 1, 2)

Thursday, April 7

The Butterscotch Stallion Rides Again

So the Butterscotch Stallion is in town. My sources aren't the most reliable (Facebook, Twitter) but the facts are just banal enough to be true: eating on Bloor, playing basketball at Hart House (what?). Apparently he's here visiting Woody Harrelson, who's here being Woody for the next while.

My fingers are crossed that I can hunt him down; my lunch breaks are extended so that I can cover more ground in Yorkville. I have seen him in the flesh once before, though: London, London proper, in August of 2006. I was walking through Hyde Park with my mom, jet lagged and delirious after our flight. He was wearing a tiny pair of running shorts, talking on his cell under a tree. I later figured out that he was in town to promote "You, Me and Dupree"-- so not his finest hour, but it was definitely mine. I lingered nearby but never approached him. He was on his phone--probably talking to Kate Hudson, since that relationship still existed back then--and I didn't want to be rude. Canadians aren't rude.

But now he's in Canada. And I am going to Hunt Him Down.


(image via)