More than a month has passed, but here's the ending to my story: I didn't finish my marathon.
It still sort of feels like a bad dream.
I did all the work. I didn't show up on race morning unprepared--no, I did 18 solid weeks of training. 18 weeks of speed, long runs, tempos and high mileage. I tapered properly. I hydrated, I woke up early, I was mentally strong. What I wasn't ready for was the weather.
WHY SPRING, WHY? I trained in the coldest temperatures, only to find 20+ Celcius on race day. Last summer I learned that heat is not my friend--I sweat like my dad, my stomach rumbles, and my blood sugar plummets. I knew that the heat would be bad, but I thought, surely, I'll be finished racing by the time it gets really warm out!
No. I felt totally great for 15k, right on pace, holding back even. Around 16-17k my stomach started to feel a little woozy. I tried to shake it off, but I was feeling more rotten with each step. At 18k I started to lose focus. Pretty soon we were running down Southdown, past a Pizza Pizza and into industrial land. It was hot, and even though I had been drinking plenty of water and Gatorade, I was heading fast into dehydration. My face was grainy with sweat salt. I passed 25k and knew I was in real trouble. I ran Around the Bay at a faster pace just a month earlier, feeling totally great the whole race. I ran 35k in training just three weeks before and felt completely fine--never had I felt this bad. This wasn't just muscle soreness or body pain--obviously I had those too--this was my body shutting down. I checked my blood sugar (which I never do in a race) and it was hovering around 6, but this was after shoving down a gel and downing two cups of Gatorade. My legs were shaking. I wish that was an exaggeration. I didn't feel confident I could keep my blood sugar stable over the remainder of the race.
At 27k two women running by me commented on the "running on insulin" bib I wore on my back: "Is that performance-enhancing insulin har har har," they said. "It's actually life-saving insulin," I said. And that's when I knew I wasn't finishing this race. "I hope you don't stab us with needles!" they said, cackling. Bitches.
I stumbled through a few more kms and then started to walk. A man stopped beside me and asked me what kind of insulin I used--holy crap, a fellow diabetic. He told me that he'd run 10 marathons since being diagnosed, but admitted that he always finds them tough and wondered if he'd run another after this. He pledged to keep running with me--walking with me, if needed. This was my second wind! This was my guardian angel! I tried running with him for a few minutes...but as soon as we came across the medic tent, I waved him on. My race was over.
This race was supposed to be the biggest accomplishment of my running career, and a defining moment of my diabetic life. Of course, I put way too much pressure on myself. I was hoping to run a 3:40-3:45 race, but I would've been content with a 3:50 or 3:55. The way I was feeling at 30k? I probably would've had to walk the rest of the course, or risk passing out. I knew for certain I would pass out if I kept running. And a diabetic passing out from dehydration and heat stroke in the middle of Mississauga? I would've ended up in the hospital. I got scared.
There are so many people that run marathons these days, and the prevailing opinion among nearly all of them is that the only thing that matters is finishing. Felt like death for the last 10k? Who cares, at least you finished! Fueled improperly and cramped and barfed and never want a run a marathon again? AT LEAST YOU FINISHED.
My goal for this race was to not feel like death for the last 10k. That's why I went out easy in the beginning. I shouldn't have felt like I was dying at the halfway mark. Something was seriously wrong with me, and I made the smart decision. Smart, but it sucks. I didn't finish. There's no finality to all the time and energy and blood and sweat I put in.
And that sucks.
But you know what? I'm ready to run again. I've peppered my summer training schedule with track parties. Through this winter training cycle I learned how to train properly, what not to do, how to stay mentally focused. And now, through this failed race, I've learned that I can't gamble on a spring race date. I need cooler temperatures. So maybe this fall will be it?
I didn't finish the race. My body said no. My body reminded me that it's built imperfectly. I never expected my "running on insulin" bib to be so prophetic. Insulin and I started the race, and then we quit it, but we're still running.
"You DNFed your first marathon???" At least I didn't finish DFL.
gadget
Monday, June 24
Friday, May 3
Nearly There: Marathon Training Update
So I didn't end up writing much about my marathon training cycle, mostly because I didn't want to curse myself. Writing about it would've made it real, made it possible to screw up. Instead I stayed quiet and kept on running. Now it's probably safe to put it out there: I'm running a marathon on Sunday! For real. No joke.
Um.
Holy crap.
This winter was hard, man. I truly thought things would end up a bit milder than forecast, but no--it snowed, it hailed, it thawed, it froze over again, it snowed some more. It was windy, it was dark, it was miserable, and I was out there every damn day. Well, five days a week at least. How I managed to keep my training consisten in such terrible conditions, I'll never know. I didn't do as much speedwork as planned, but I did pull out two 21 mile long runs (along with 3 30ks and a few 28ks, too). I ran Around the Bay in March and managed a nearly four minute personal best, even running a negative split over the last (hilly) 10k. I mean...really?
I don't feel as fast as I did this time last year, but I think I'm stronger. I've got more mileage under my belt, I've got my head on straight. I've got this...right?
Let's see how this goes.
Thursday, January 17
Hunting For: Cathrineholm for a Song
Scandinavian mid century design doesn't get more iconic than the lotus pattern enamel Cathrineholm pieces. I'm sure you've seen their bowls or platters or fondue pots somewhere--ever since Rachel Ray got her EVOO streaked paws all over them (she used a lookalike bowl on her show 30 Minute Meals), they've transformed into mid century for the masses.
That doesn't mean they're easy to find in Toronto, though. I've said it before and I'll say it again: TO's antique prices are off the chain. Ripped right off the chain. The smallest of teak pieces at antique stores are never under $200, Craigslist ads easily demand $500 for a 'retro looking' chair somebody else farted on, and I've even seen garage sales asking upwards of $1500 for a 1960's couch with cat scratches. There's no fun in that. And, trapped in my entry level job, there's no money for that.
I've never seen any lotus pattern Cathrineholm pieces for sale in this city. I've seen them in antique store windows, defiantly not for sale, but I've never spotted some at my usual haunts. In the summer, that means street sales and church bazaars and flea markets. The deals always migrate outside. In the winter, I hole up in thrift stores, desperate to find a treasure, but rarely do. I spend full days at "thrift corner" (Dixie and Dundas in Mississauga) where four thrift stores converge into one beautiful little shopping mecca, and still find nothing special. (Note: never go to thrift corner. Forget I told you about it. It's MINE.)
I still have dreams about finding that elusive piece of Cathrineholm, though. I don't want to pay through the nose for an avocado green lotus lasagna pan on eBay. Again, that's not the point. I want to roam through a stinking Goodwill and find an avocado green lotus lasagna pan hidden among the old Tupperware and chipped comic strip Cathy mugs (Ack!!). In a perfect world, I find two pieces: one to keep and one to sell. But for now I'll just keep looking.
 |
| Source |
That doesn't mean they're easy to find in Toronto, though. I've said it before and I'll say it again: TO's antique prices are off the chain. Ripped right off the chain. The smallest of teak pieces at antique stores are never under $200, Craigslist ads easily demand $500 for a 'retro looking' chair somebody else farted on, and I've even seen garage sales asking upwards of $1500 for a 1960's couch with cat scratches. There's no fun in that. And, trapped in my entry level job, there's no money for that.
I've never seen any lotus pattern Cathrineholm pieces for sale in this city. I've seen them in antique store windows, defiantly not for sale, but I've never spotted some at my usual haunts. In the summer, that means street sales and church bazaars and flea markets. The deals always migrate outside. In the winter, I hole up in thrift stores, desperate to find a treasure, but rarely do. I spend full days at "thrift corner" (Dixie and Dundas in Mississauga) where four thrift stores converge into one beautiful little shopping mecca, and still find nothing special. (Note: never go to thrift corner. Forget I told you about it. It's MINE.)
I still have dreams about finding that elusive piece of Cathrineholm, though. I don't want to pay through the nose for an avocado green lotus lasagna pan on eBay. Again, that's not the point. I want to roam through a stinking Goodwill and find an avocado green lotus lasagna pan hidden among the old Tupperware and chipped comic strip Cathy mugs (Ack!!). In a perfect world, I find two pieces: one to keep and one to sell. But for now I'll just keep looking.
 |
| From nopatternrequired.com |
Saturday, January 12
Moving, Still
Last January I started training for my first marathon. Last June I started training for my first marathon. Three weeks ago I started training for my first marathon.
This time I might actually make it to the end. Here's why:
- my previous attempts involved makeshift training plans and trial-and-error blood sugar management. This time, I think I've got a better handle on it all. I'm following Hal Higdon's Advanced 1 training plan, even though I'm not supposed to--this plan is not for first-timers. But I think it's the best fit for me, and his easier programs don't feature any speed or hill work, which are already staples of my regular training. I don't want to swap out 'quality' workouts for mere easy miles. I've already trained 3/4 for two marathons, and raced a 30k. I may still be an aspiring marathoner, but I'm an advanced trainer. I'm running five days a week on this plan. I also know how my blood sugars react to various runs--spikes in cold weather, drops in hot temps, fuel needed after 45 minutes--and I'm carrying all the right things (meter, cash, sugar) when I head out. That girl dropping bloodied test strips in the snow? That's me.
- I'm running less races this go-around. It's easy to burn yourself out on short races, particularly if you're me and you're disgustingly competitive and can't comprehend the concept of running a race 'just for fun'. Running fast is the real fun, but it's also draining and makes my blood sugars all wonky. This year I'm only doing Around the Bay before my May 5th marathon, and only because I loved it so much last year. It's also good solid distance training at the right time in my training schedule. Oh, and also because I already signed up for it--the new qualifying corral program really appealed to my competitive nature, not surprisingly.
- I've got my fingers crossed it'll be an easy winter. It might not be as wonderful as last year's non-winter, but the forecast is looking blessedly mild and dry. Whatever snow and ice (and unshoveled sidewalks, jerks) left out there is melting quickly, and today the city is hitting 12 degrees. Double digits! In high school I used to break out the shorts whenever it went above 10 degrees in the winter. Maybe I'll have to reboot that tradition this year. My diabetes seems to like the winter, too. I still don't know why. From everything I've read, it makes sense that my blood sugars should actually drop in cold weather as your body overworks to heat itself. My body, though, just settles in and feels fine. In low temps I don't need to set special basal rates, eat extra carbs (save for long runs), or worry about the unknown. It's a beautiful little break from my disease and makes me love running even more than I already do.
And, finally:
- because I just signed up. For real. For real for real.
See you at the finish line.
This time I might actually make it to the end. Here's why:
- my previous attempts involved makeshift training plans and trial-and-error blood sugar management. This time, I think I've got a better handle on it all. I'm following Hal Higdon's Advanced 1 training plan, even though I'm not supposed to--this plan is not for first-timers. But I think it's the best fit for me, and his easier programs don't feature any speed or hill work, which are already staples of my regular training. I don't want to swap out 'quality' workouts for mere easy miles. I've already trained 3/4 for two marathons, and raced a 30k. I may still be an aspiring marathoner, but I'm an advanced trainer. I'm running five days a week on this plan. I also know how my blood sugars react to various runs--spikes in cold weather, drops in hot temps, fuel needed after 45 minutes--and I'm carrying all the right things (meter, cash, sugar) when I head out. That girl dropping bloodied test strips in the snow? That's me.
- I'm running less races this go-around. It's easy to burn yourself out on short races, particularly if you're me and you're disgustingly competitive and can't comprehend the concept of running a race 'just for fun'. Running fast is the real fun, but it's also draining and makes my blood sugars all wonky. This year I'm only doing Around the Bay before my May 5th marathon, and only because I loved it so much last year. It's also good solid distance training at the right time in my training schedule. Oh, and also because I already signed up for it--the new qualifying corral program really appealed to my competitive nature, not surprisingly.
- I've got my fingers crossed it'll be an easy winter. It might not be as wonderful as last year's non-winter, but the forecast is looking blessedly mild and dry. Whatever snow and ice (and unshoveled sidewalks, jerks) left out there is melting quickly, and today the city is hitting 12 degrees. Double digits! In high school I used to break out the shorts whenever it went above 10 degrees in the winter. Maybe I'll have to reboot that tradition this year. My diabetes seems to like the winter, too. I still don't know why. From everything I've read, it makes sense that my blood sugars should actually drop in cold weather as your body overworks to heat itself. My body, though, just settles in and feels fine. In low temps I don't need to set special basal rates, eat extra carbs (save for long runs), or worry about the unknown. It's a beautiful little break from my disease and makes me love running even more than I already do.
And, finally:
- because I just signed up. For real. For real for real.
See you at the finish line.
Sunday, December 23
Egg Nog Jog 2012
The Egg Nog Jog up in Terra Cotta is one of those races I hope to still be running when I'm old and slow. I first ran this race when I was just a baby: 15 years old, a running baby, back when I ran in long shiny shorts (a holdover from my short-lived tween soccer career) and big cotton t-shirts. I've run it about 6 times over the past 11 years. Only my previous two times are immortalized in online race results--I have no idea how what my number was back in those pioneer years. The last time I raced it, in 2010, it was the first time I raced with an insulin pump. I was undertrained, unprepared for the hills, and terrified. I finished just a touch over 1:00:00 for the 10.8km course, peppered with mean hills including one climb that lasts a solid kilometre.
This is the type of race that makes your flaws glaringly obvious. It beats you down. It makes you weak. Every time I cross the finish line I swear I'll never run it again, but I keep coming back. This year I wanted to beat it back. I wanted to go under 55 minutes, and I wanted to place in my age category. I wanted that computer print-out SO BAD.
The weather was my first sign that things might go my way: 0 degrees and dry, with no snow at all on those dirt roads. The second sign was near the 2km marker, when I realized that the sluggish 5:30/km pace I thought I was running was actually just my stupid mistake: I was going 3:50/km, downhill, and had read my Garmin wrong. 2k in under 8 minutes? Time in the bank.
I slowed on the hills but didn't stop. I made it to the top of the massive 1km climb without losing too much time. I sped up on the descent to the finish and pulled it off in 52:30.
Holy smokes.
Of course, all the fast runners also had great days and my time was only good enough for 5th in my age category, but can I complain? An 8 minute PR during my off-season? This is my race, man. It's my Everest. This year I wasn't weak, this year I showed it what I was made of. Pat on the back, me, for a year of running well done.
This is the type of race that makes your flaws glaringly obvious. It beats you down. It makes you weak. Every time I cross the finish line I swear I'll never run it again, but I keep coming back. This year I wanted to beat it back. I wanted to go under 55 minutes, and I wanted to place in my age category. I wanted that computer print-out SO BAD.
The weather was my first sign that things might go my way: 0 degrees and dry, with no snow at all on those dirt roads. The second sign was near the 2km marker, when I realized that the sluggish 5:30/km pace I thought I was running was actually just my stupid mistake: I was going 3:50/km, downhill, and had read my Garmin wrong. 2k in under 8 minutes? Time in the bank.
I slowed on the hills but didn't stop. I made it to the top of the massive 1km climb without losing too much time. I sped up on the descent to the finish and pulled it off in 52:30.
Holy smokes.
Of course, all the fast runners also had great days and my time was only good enough for 5th in my age category, but can I complain? An 8 minute PR during my off-season? This is my race, man. It's my Everest. This year I wasn't weak, this year I showed it what I was made of. Pat on the back, me, for a year of running well done.
Wednesday, July 4
Fear Sweat
My marathon training officially started on June 25, but you wouldn't know it from looking at my Google calendar: just white square after white square after white square. My excuses have been plenty, and plenty legit too (achy shins againareyouserious, heat + humidity double-teaming me, long work days and low energy). My High Park tempo runs, which were such an important piece of my winter training--nothing makes you faster quicker or feel more like dying--have been pathetic failures lately. I've been quitting 8k tempos at 4k, 5k tempos at 3k. I've been sweating out little ponds and stinking up the apartment. It's been rough.
But then there's this other thing that's been slowing me down, and does it even need to be stated? In the winter I started experiencing high blood sugars after each run, ended up pumping myself full of insulin and still losing. Now, a season later, I'm facing low blood sugars at every turn.
Really, really low ones. On Friday I had the day off and chose to get my long run in early--by 8k I was down to 3.2 mmol/L, and by 15k I was at 1.9 mmol/L, crying in the parking lot of a Wal-Mart.
Crying in a Wal-Mart parking lot. Crying in a Wal-Mart parking lot. Yes, really. That girl was me.
1.9 is the lowest number I've seen in a long, long time, and a terrifying one to see. I walked the rest of the route home--6k, sweating, gross--out of fear that any additional physical exertion would just do me in. Dead in a Wal-Mart parking lot. There was no reason for my blood sugars to plummet so drastically; I'd adjusted my basal rates, downed two gels, and timed my carbs right. I should have been fine. So why wasn't I?
I bark "WHY?" at my diabetes a lot, a dozen times a day, and it never gives me any answers.
I didn't run for a few days after that incident, convinced that exercise might kill me. A day later the fear gave way to frustration: I have to figure out how to do this all over again? WHY. WHY ME.
And then I ran on Monday, mid-afternoon, feeling not-so-terrible in the heat and pulling off steady blood sugars and an inadvertent 10k at tempo pace. And just like that, it's not so scary anymore.
(via The Star)
But then there's this other thing that's been slowing me down, and does it even need to be stated? In the winter I started experiencing high blood sugars after each run, ended up pumping myself full of insulin and still losing. Now, a season later, I'm facing low blood sugars at every turn.
Really, really low ones. On Friday I had the day off and chose to get my long run in early--by 8k I was down to 3.2 mmol/L, and by 15k I was at 1.9 mmol/L, crying in the parking lot of a Wal-Mart.
Crying in a Wal-Mart parking lot. Crying in a Wal-Mart parking lot. Yes, really. That girl was me.
1.9 is the lowest number I've seen in a long, long time, and a terrifying one to see. I walked the rest of the route home--6k, sweating, gross--out of fear that any additional physical exertion would just do me in. Dead in a Wal-Mart parking lot. There was no reason for my blood sugars to plummet so drastically; I'd adjusted my basal rates, downed two gels, and timed my carbs right. I should have been fine. So why wasn't I?
I bark "WHY?" at my diabetes a lot, a dozen times a day, and it never gives me any answers.
I didn't run for a few days after that incident, convinced that exercise might kill me. A day later the fear gave way to frustration: I have to figure out how to do this all over again? WHY. WHY ME.
And then I ran on Monday, mid-afternoon, feeling not-so-terrible in the heat and pulling off steady blood sugars and an inadvertent 10k at tempo pace. And just like that, it's not so scary anymore.
This cat saved its owner by sniffing out a low blood sugar and waking her in the middle of the night. If only my furbags were as helpful.
(via The Star)
Thursday, April 19
On Losing the Marathon
I lost the marathon today: I registered for the half instead. I gave it up, more like. Thanks for the fitness and improved pace, marathon training. We were good for a while there. But I was pushing you way too much, I know. We gotta take this easier.
If I had kept up with my training schedule after Around the Bay, I might have still been able to finish the full marathon on May 6. But then I took a few days off. And then I burned out, a little. And then I saw a 20 miler on my training calendar and just said no. I ran Harry's Spring Run Off (8k) on April 7 in 38:45, a pretty fast for me 4:50 per km pace, and knew there was no way I'd be content with "just finishing" the marathon.
Let's be honest. I crammed a lot of training into this winter/spring not to finish a marathon only, but to finish a marathon in a decent time. Diabetes is my beast and running this marathon looked like a good way to beat it, but would I be happy with a 4 hour plus finish time? Of course not. I'd beat myself up. All that training would be for nothing. Deep down, I know I have a 3:55 or even 3:50 first marathon in me. I need to work for just a little bit longer to get it out.
So I'm running the half in Mississauga on May 6--what up Hazel--and then throwing myself right back into a summer of training. I need to be stronger, more consistent. I need a few 22 milers (or more?) in the tank before I race the full, because I have no clue how my blood sugar will hold up in foreign miles.
October it is.
If I had kept up with my training schedule after Around the Bay, I might have still been able to finish the full marathon on May 6. But then I took a few days off. And then I burned out, a little. And then I saw a 20 miler on my training calendar and just said no. I ran Harry's Spring Run Off (8k) on April 7 in 38:45, a pretty fast for me 4:50 per km pace, and knew there was no way I'd be content with "just finishing" the marathon.
Let's be honest. I crammed a lot of training into this winter/spring not to finish a marathon only, but to finish a marathon in a decent time. Diabetes is my beast and running this marathon looked like a good way to beat it, but would I be happy with a 4 hour plus finish time? Of course not. I'd beat myself up. All that training would be for nothing. Deep down, I know I have a 3:55 or even 3:50 first marathon in me. I need to work for just a little bit longer to get it out.
So I'm running the half in Mississauga on May 6--what up Hazel--and then throwing myself right back into a summer of training. I need to be stronger, more consistent. I need a few 22 milers (or more?) in the tank before I race the full, because I have no clue how my blood sugar will hold up in foreign miles.
October it is.
Thursday, April 5
Around the Bay
I slotted the Around the Bay 30k into my race calendar as an expectation, not a goal. The big stupid May marathon was the goal (um, still haven't registered for that yet). This was just a race, just 8.9k longer than a half, just something to do one weekend in late March. Of course I'd get through it. My expectations lowered even more in the week leading up to the race: my shins had been bothering me, I'd bailed on an 8k tempo less than halfway through, and we moved--our bodies, our selves!--into a new apartment a mere two days before the race. So now I had sore arms in addition to sore legs. I just wanted to finish in a decent time, grab my medal, and get the pain over with it.
But it really wasn't painful at all. In fact, this race was actually really good. It felt genuine. It felt supportive, and challenging, and enjoyable. The good weather probably helped a lot, but still: a happy race? Unpossible!
My blood sugar was sitting around 8 mmol/L before the start. I had a gel as a buffer--my blood sugars tend to soar during training but drop in races--and elbowed as close as I could to the start. My mom encouraged me to wear a long sleeve ("for the wind off the lake!") but I was too warm before the gun even started.
I spent the first 10k trying to slow myself down. I knew there were hills coming up in the last third, hills that I at least hoped were similar to the hills I train on in TO, so I knew it was important to keep my pace down. I ended up running alongside a woman and we paced each other through 20k. I also took my brother's advice to stop and walk at the water stations--getting down a few good gulps of Gatorade at each station was part of my blood sugar strategy, along with two Gus at 11k and 21k. My blood sugar was surprisingly, beautifully steady all the way through to the end. YES.
The hills started around 20k and I was happy to take the distraction. I held up pretty well on them, actually--my pace slowed, as I knew it would, but I had banked time going too fast in the start so my overall time was faring better than expected.
Then there was "the hill" about 4k from the end, but, I mean, really. That's "the hill"? I saw people ahead of me walking before they'd even reached a hint of an incline. I made it to the top and felt just a little winded-- and it's all thanks to you, Ellis Park Road repeats! The last few kms were sweaty and gross, but that finish into Copps Coliseum was pretty glorious. My blood sugar after the race was good (7.1) and my chip time was great, even (2:38:59!)
It was fun, full stop. I so needed this after a year of ups and downs in my running and my diabetes. Plus there was a guy on the course giving out bacon. I skipped the bacon.
But it really wasn't painful at all. In fact, this race was actually really good. It felt genuine. It felt supportive, and challenging, and enjoyable. The good weather probably helped a lot, but still: a happy race? Unpossible!
My blood sugar was sitting around 8 mmol/L before the start. I had a gel as a buffer--my blood sugars tend to soar during training but drop in races--and elbowed as close as I could to the start. My mom encouraged me to wear a long sleeve ("for the wind off the lake!") but I was too warm before the gun even started.
I spent the first 10k trying to slow myself down. I knew there were hills coming up in the last third, hills that I at least hoped were similar to the hills I train on in TO, so I knew it was important to keep my pace down. I ended up running alongside a woman and we paced each other through 20k. I also took my brother's advice to stop and walk at the water stations--getting down a few good gulps of Gatorade at each station was part of my blood sugar strategy, along with two Gus at 11k and 21k. My blood sugar was surprisingly, beautifully steady all the way through to the end. YES.
The hills started around 20k and I was happy to take the distraction. I held up pretty well on them, actually--my pace slowed, as I knew it would, but I had banked time going too fast in the start so my overall time was faring better than expected.
Then there was "the hill" about 4k from the end, but, I mean, really. That's "the hill"? I saw people ahead of me walking before they'd even reached a hint of an incline. I made it to the top and felt just a little winded-- and it's all thanks to you, Ellis Park Road repeats! The last few kms were sweaty and gross, but that finish into Copps Coliseum was pretty glorious. My blood sugar after the race was good (7.1) and my chip time was great, even (2:38:59!)
It was fun, full stop. I so needed this after a year of ups and downs in my running and my diabetes. Plus there was a guy on the course giving out bacon. I skipped the bacon.
Friday, February 17
Maybe Marathon Training
I still haven't registered for that marathon yet.
I've got a training plan! I've got a training plan that I've actually been following! I've got dreams of crossing the finish line in tears and screaming "I'M DIABETIC" just to make it all that sweeter.
But have I actually registered? Oh, hell no.
I am fully paid up for Around the Bay on March 25th and then Harry's Spring Run-Off on April 7th. One will be long and hard, but hopefully fun (ATB); one will be fast, fingers crossed (Harry's). But then there's that damn marathon just down the line...
It makes sense to pin this goal down now, to throw down 70-whatever dollars and just commit. But I'm scared. I'm scared of injuring myself again, and of training for an additional 5 weeks and still feeling ill-prepared. So my plan is to make the big decision on March 25--right after the running around the bay, but before Mad Men--and then run with it.
My training weeks have been just alright so far: I've got track days, tempo runs, extra mileage and then long ones on Saturday mornings. My pace is still too fast and my shin is still pretty sore. My blood sugars are still totally insane, impossible to rein in. But, still, I'm doing this? No shit.
I've got a training plan! I've got a training plan that I've actually been following! I've got dreams of crossing the finish line in tears and screaming "I'M DIABETIC" just to make it all that sweeter.
But have I actually registered? Oh, hell no.
I am fully paid up for Around the Bay on March 25th and then Harry's Spring Run-Off on April 7th. One will be long and hard, but hopefully fun (ATB); one will be fast, fingers crossed (Harry's). But then there's that damn marathon just down the line...
It makes sense to pin this goal down now, to throw down 70-whatever dollars and just commit. But I'm scared. I'm scared of injuring myself again, and of training for an additional 5 weeks and still feeling ill-prepared. So my plan is to make the big decision on March 25--right after the running around the bay, but before Mad Men--and then run with it.
My training weeks have been just alright so far: I've got track days, tempo runs, extra mileage and then long ones on Saturday mornings. My pace is still too fast and my shin is still pretty sore. My blood sugars are still totally insane, impossible to rein in. But, still, I'm doing this? No shit.
Friday, December 16
4 of 4
My recent running life:
October 16: ran a half-marathon.
October 16-28: no running. Mostly sitting. Nay, all sitting, all the time.
October 29-November 23: gradual return to training in preparation for this year's Egg Nog Jog, a fun run in the boonies I've been doing since I was 15. Starting adding hill work to the mix.
November 24: pain in my shin. GAME OVER.
I've just been saddled with my fourth significant injury of the year. Something to do with a strained gastrocnemius muscle and lingering shin splints--basically, everything below my right knee is tight, jammed and useless. The pain when I ran was minimal, but I had a feeling it would only get worse. My physio tells me we caught this one "early", which I guess is some comfort, but I've been forbidden to run for at least one more week. Wah wah.
Mandatory rest ain't so bad, though, and it should help with my long term goal: on January 1 (...okay, maybe January 2) marathon training begins.
Yes.
For real this time.
Already peeing my pants.
And it would be really nice to get into this training period without an old injury hanging around my calves. I'll be running Around The Bay in March (more hills!), Harry's in High Park in April (I can walk there from my house!), and then, hopefully, the Mississauga Marathon in May. I'm doing it for me, but also a little for this lady:
October 16: ran a half-marathon.
October 16-28: no running. Mostly sitting. Nay, all sitting, all the time.
October 29-November 23: gradual return to training in preparation for this year's Egg Nog Jog, a fun run in the boonies I've been doing since I was 15. Starting adding hill work to the mix.
November 24: pain in my shin. GAME OVER.
I've just been saddled with my fourth significant injury of the year. Something to do with a strained gastrocnemius muscle and lingering shin splints--basically, everything below my right knee is tight, jammed and useless. The pain when I ran was minimal, but I had a feeling it would only get worse. My physio tells me we caught this one "early", which I guess is some comfort, but I've been forbidden to run for at least one more week. Wah wah.
Mandatory rest ain't so bad, though, and it should help with my long term goal: on January 1 (...okay, maybe January 2) marathon training begins.
Yes.
For real this time.
Already peeing my pants.
And it would be really nice to get into this training period without an old injury hanging around my calves. I'll be running Around The Bay in March (more hills!), Harry's in High Park in April (I can walk there from my house!), and then, hopefully, the Mississauga Marathon in May. I'm doing it for me, but also a little for this lady:
(via)
Gotta make you proud, Hazel.
(via)
Sunday, November 20
Cat Party
For the past two years, my answer to Devan's annual "What do you want for Christmas/your birthday/our anniversary?" question has been "A cat." Sort of jokingly, mostly not: Digby has been so lonely! He needed a brother! I've even been trolling the stray cats that live in the brush near our house, trying to lure them inside using Temptations treats.
I guess my nattering finally paid off, because Devan decided to surprise* me** with a cat for our anniversary this year.
Oxford! Some people give their pets proper names, beer names, stupid names, made-up names, Twilight names--but we prefer haughty sounding place names. We got Oxford through Toronto Cat Rescue which I can't recommend enough. There are so many rescue kittens in need of homes across the city (especially the black ones) and, really, what's wrong with owning two cats? Think of all the cuteness that could ensue. Think of the cuddles! Thanks for finally caving, Devan.
* He actually ruined the surprise by telling me in advance.
* This is clearly not a present 'just for me'. I now live in a tiny apartment with three dirty boys.
I guess my nattering finally paid off, because Devan decided to surprise* me** with a cat for our anniversary this year.
Oxford! Some people give their pets proper names, beer names, stupid names, made-up names, Twilight names--but we prefer haughty sounding place names. We got Oxford through Toronto Cat Rescue which I can't recommend enough. There are so many rescue kittens in need of homes across the city (especially the black ones) and, really, what's wrong with owning two cats? Think of all the cuteness that could ensue. Think of the cuddles! Thanks for finally caving, Devan.
* He actually ruined the surprise by telling me in advance.
* This is clearly not a present 'just for me'. I now live in a tiny apartment with three dirty boys.
Tuesday, October 18
twenty one point one: Toronto Waterfront Half Marathon Recap
So here it is: 1:49:26.
I barely slept the night before. The starting line was freezing. My blood sugar was 7.0. I snuck into the blue corral (1:45-1:59 finishers) and lined up behind a guy with a giant Foo Fighters tattoo on the back of his calf. It took me four minutes to cross the starting mat. I snaked past people for the first few kilometres (how'd they get all the way up here?) and tried to ignore the fact that I was dying to pee. I hit 5k in exactly 26 minutes--exactly on target. I hit a really good rhythm. The pee just disappeared, I guess?
I spotted Christie Blatchford clapping in a small group of spectators along the Lakeshore. Her heart didn't really seem into it, though--maybe the spectacle was too public for her.
I made sure to stay ahead of the 3:45 marathon pacer. I hit 10k in 52 minutes flat. No shit. I drank all the Gatorade. My shin splints, which had been bothering me for weeks, never showed up for the party. My IT band, though--dormant for four months!--decided to tighten up near 16k. I ran through it. My splits were frighteningly consistent (I guess all those Yasso 800s paid off). The 1:50 pacer caught up to me with a kilometre to go and I pushed hard to stay ahead of him.
I got the sub 1:50. And when I checked my blood sugar on the curb after the race? 7.0. (Okay, there may have been some crazy post-race high sugars but those don't count! It's the 1:49 that counts.)
Phew.
I barely slept the night before. The starting line was freezing. My blood sugar was 7.0. I snuck into the blue corral (1:45-1:59 finishers) and lined up behind a guy with a giant Foo Fighters tattoo on the back of his calf. It took me four minutes to cross the starting mat. I snaked past people for the first few kilometres (how'd they get all the way up here?) and tried to ignore the fact that I was dying to pee. I hit 5k in exactly 26 minutes--exactly on target. I hit a really good rhythm. The pee just disappeared, I guess?
I spotted Christie Blatchford clapping in a small group of spectators along the Lakeshore. Her heart didn't really seem into it, though--maybe the spectacle was too public for her.
I made sure to stay ahead of the 3:45 marathon pacer. I hit 10k in 52 minutes flat. No shit. I drank all the Gatorade. My shin splints, which had been bothering me for weeks, never showed up for the party. My IT band, though--dormant for four months!--decided to tighten up near 16k. I ran through it. My splits were frighteningly consistent (I guess all those Yasso 800s paid off). The 1:50 pacer caught up to me with a kilometre to go and I pushed hard to stay ahead of him.
I got the sub 1:50. And when I checked my blood sugar on the curb after the race? 7.0. (Okay, there may have been some crazy post-race high sugars but those don't count! It's the 1:49 that counts.)
Phew.
Saturday, October 15
21km and Type 1: Tomorrow
My race is tomorrow. I registered for it way back in March. A lot has changed since then: I've had three injuries (IT band, twisted ankle, and some persistent shin splints), I'm faster overall, and my attitude to racing has changed. Back in March this half marathon seemed like a really, really big deal. And, okay, it is, but I know now that it's just the first step for me. If I can finish tomorrow in a decent time, I can definitely run a marathon in the next year or so with some extra training. 42.2 and Type 1: it's not so far off.
Back in March I put myself in the starting corral for 2:00-2:15 half finishers. I had no idea of pacing for this kind of distance; I thought if I could break 2 hours I'd be proud. Now, I'm gunning for sub 1:50. That might be aiming too high, but I do know that (barring some horrible accident or injury) I will definitely come in under two. I don't doubt myself as much anymore. Truth be stretched, I've been training for this race for the past 13 years. I'm scared as shit, but I know I can do it.
I've got a basal insulin reduction plan and gels to keep my blood sugars in range. I don't expect them to be perfect--I don't need them to be. I just need my diabetes to work with me tomorrow. I don't want any fighting.
21.1? I'm going to kill it. And then I'm just going to keep on going.
Back in March I put myself in the starting corral for 2:00-2:15 half finishers. I had no idea of pacing for this kind of distance; I thought if I could break 2 hours I'd be proud. Now, I'm gunning for sub 1:50. That might be aiming too high, but I do know that (barring some horrible accident or injury) I will definitely come in under two. I don't doubt myself as much anymore. Truth be stretched, I've been training for this race for the past 13 years. I'm scared as shit, but I know I can do it.
I've got a basal insulin reduction plan and gels to keep my blood sugars in range. I don't expect them to be perfect--I don't need them to be. I just need my diabetes to work with me tomorrow. I don't want any fighting.
21.1? I'm going to kill it. And then I'm just going to keep on going.
Monday, September 19
Lessons, Learned
Yesterday I set out for 18k, my longest long training run yet, fully prepared. I couldn't believe how prepared I looked as I passed the hall mirror on my way out the door: Spibelt AND wristlet AND water bottle? I was dripping gear. I had a new route all plotted out in my head, but also mapped out on my computer in case Devan needed to send out a search party. Even my blood sugars were conciliatory: 8.0 and steady, a perfect starting number.
I ended up running 22k completely by mistake.
My Google training calendar was not pleased with me, not at all.
My plan was to run north and east, catch the Belt Line, loop through Mt. Pleasant cemetery, enter the ravine system, let it dump me back onto St. Clair and end up around Bathurst. Then I'd grab the streetcar and head home--1:30 mins, 1:40 tops. And it would have worked out that way (near perfect!) if I hadn't forgotten my Metropass at home. 8k into the run I realized I didn't have my pass or enough change to get myself home. I balked. In an effort to shorten the overall distance, I just headed north, thinking that I'd run into the cemetery sooner or later. This became my 1st Time Getting Lost. Who knew the UCC campus could be so confusing?
I finally found the Belt Line, and then the cemetery. I thought things were smoothing out until I hit my 2nd Time Getting Lost. Mount Pleasant is all curvy roads that lead NOWHERE. I did come across a map...one that had two separate 'You Are Here' dots marked on it. I walked in circles for at least fifteen minutes. Ghosts were moving faster than me.
Finally, finally, I found Moore Park Ravine. This trail, at least, was consistent, even if I had absolutely no clue where I was in the city. I checked my blood sugar somewhere past the Brick Works and realized I'd been cruising along with a blood sugar of 3.5. This is probably the point where I started to cry: lost in the east end, dangerously low blood sugar, no phone, no Metropass, and miles to go. Assumed I'd see Death but all I saw were golden retrievers.
I kept going, and kept GUing. I made it to St. Clair and Bathurst, my original end point, and conceded to keep running. I'd hoped to run this one at an easy pace, but the longer it went on the more I just wanted to be back home--so I ran fast. Really fast. Too fast?
In the end, according to mapmyrun and my shitty watch, I ran 22.2k in about 1:55. That is definitely NOT easy long run pace, but it does give me hope for the Scotiabank Half and future races. I'm wiped out today, but my legs don't ache very much. And, apart from my panic attacks, I felt good the whole time.
Lessons I learned:
1. Bring Metropass if planning a route that requires a Metropass to get home.
2. Bring phone, why not.
3. The east end is terrifying.
I ended up running 22k completely by mistake.
My Google training calendar was not pleased with me, not at all.
My plan was to run north and east, catch the Belt Line, loop through Mt. Pleasant cemetery, enter the ravine system, let it dump me back onto St. Clair and end up around Bathurst. Then I'd grab the streetcar and head home--1:30 mins, 1:40 tops. And it would have worked out that way (near perfect!) if I hadn't forgotten my Metropass at home. 8k into the run I realized I didn't have my pass or enough change to get myself home. I balked. In an effort to shorten the overall distance, I just headed north, thinking that I'd run into the cemetery sooner or later. This became my 1st Time Getting Lost. Who knew the UCC campus could be so confusing?
I finally found the Belt Line, and then the cemetery. I thought things were smoothing out until I hit my 2nd Time Getting Lost. Mount Pleasant is all curvy roads that lead NOWHERE. I did come across a map...one that had two separate 'You Are Here' dots marked on it. I walked in circles for at least fifteen minutes. Ghosts were moving faster than me.
Finally, finally, I found Moore Park Ravine. This trail, at least, was consistent, even if I had absolutely no clue where I was in the city. I checked my blood sugar somewhere past the Brick Works and realized I'd been cruising along with a blood sugar of 3.5. This is probably the point where I started to cry: lost in the east end, dangerously low blood sugar, no phone, no Metropass, and miles to go. Assumed I'd see Death but all I saw were golden retrievers.
I kept going, and kept GUing. I made it to St. Clair and Bathurst, my original end point, and conceded to keep running. I'd hoped to run this one at an easy pace, but the longer it went on the more I just wanted to be back home--so I ran fast. Really fast. Too fast?
In the end, according to mapmyrun and my shitty watch, I ran 22.2k in about 1:55. That is definitely NOT easy long run pace, but it does give me hope for the Scotiabank Half and future races. I'm wiped out today, but my legs don't ache very much. And, apart from my panic attacks, I felt good the whole time.
Lessons I learned:
1. Bring Metropass if planning a route that requires a Metropass to get home.
2. Bring phone, why not.
3. The east end is terrifying.
Monday, September 12
Longboat Toronto Island 10k
Man, what a mess.
Not my race, necessarily. That one started out messy (old splinty) but turned itself around near the end. No, the race itself was a mess. From start to finish, ferry to island, beginning to end.
This was the race's biggest year to date, selling out a few days before. Unfortunately, that meant that this once small, once sweet race was now way too big for its britches.
Even though the race instructions encouraged us to take the 9:30am ferry, we decided it made more sense to wait until the subway opened at 9 and chance the 10am ferry. Not my smartest decision: the ticket booth lineup stretched well past the Westin, all the way onto Queen's Quay. Hundreds of people deep. I knew I wasn't totally screwed since the line was full of people wearing race bibs, but there were no race volunteers in sight to help us out. I really didn't want to be forced onto the 10:30 ferry--the race was supposed to start at 11:15, and I still needed multiple chances to pee. People were getting frantic. The ferry to Hanlan's Point was out of service that morning--maybe they could have arranged for it to carry racers, exclusively? Hell, even a sign would've helped.
We managed to find a slightly shorter line, buy our tickets, and eventually jostle onto the 10am boat. I may or may not have shoved a stroller in the process; I definitely smacked a dog out of my way. The ferry was at least 10 minutes late, as it is wont to do. We chugged along. Things were not going swimmingly.
Once we got to the race site we were told that the first event, the 5k, would be delayed by "15 minutes or so". A few minutes later we were told the 10k would start "in about 25 minutes". This was not ideal. I had lowered my basal rate over an hour before, which meant that my blood sugars were only on the rise. I needed to start running, fast.
I started walking to the starting line when a volunteer ran past and screamed "hurry up! We're holding the start for you!" Um, what? 25 minutes became 2 minutes instantaneously.
A ridiculously narrow starting line filled with 1000 runners left me weaving and dodging slow bodies for the first 2k or so. The next 3k I spent battling shin splints. Once that pain faded, as it always does, I ran on my own for the rest of the race. I managed a negative split, which was lovely, and finished just over my goal time in 50:27. Yes, again, not bad.
It was a beautiful day, a nice little loop around the island, and a decent effort. But had this race been smaller, it would have made all the difference. My time, when compared to last year's results, would have netted me 4th place in my age category in 2010. This year, with the higher number of runners, it only got me to 14th place.
We left quickly to avoid more chaos on the ferry back downtown. Didn't even get to go on the swan ride.
Not my race, necessarily. That one started out messy (old splinty) but turned itself around near the end. No, the race itself was a mess. From start to finish, ferry to island, beginning to end.
This was the race's biggest year to date, selling out a few days before. Unfortunately, that meant that this once small, once sweet race was now way too big for its britches.
Even though the race instructions encouraged us to take the 9:30am ferry, we decided it made more sense to wait until the subway opened at 9 and chance the 10am ferry. Not my smartest decision: the ticket booth lineup stretched well past the Westin, all the way onto Queen's Quay. Hundreds of people deep. I knew I wasn't totally screwed since the line was full of people wearing race bibs, but there were no race volunteers in sight to help us out. I really didn't want to be forced onto the 10:30 ferry--the race was supposed to start at 11:15, and I still needed multiple chances to pee. People were getting frantic. The ferry to Hanlan's Point was out of service that morning--maybe they could have arranged for it to carry racers, exclusively? Hell, even a sign would've helped.
We managed to find a slightly shorter line, buy our tickets, and eventually jostle onto the 10am boat. I may or may not have shoved a stroller in the process; I definitely smacked a dog out of my way. The ferry was at least 10 minutes late, as it is wont to do. We chugged along. Things were not going swimmingly.
Once we got to the race site we were told that the first event, the 5k, would be delayed by "15 minutes or so". A few minutes later we were told the 10k would start "in about 25 minutes". This was not ideal. I had lowered my basal rate over an hour before, which meant that my blood sugars were only on the rise. I needed to start running, fast.
I started walking to the starting line when a volunteer ran past and screamed "hurry up! We're holding the start for you!" Um, what? 25 minutes became 2 minutes instantaneously.
A ridiculously narrow starting line filled with 1000 runners left me weaving and dodging slow bodies for the first 2k or so. The next 3k I spent battling shin splints. Once that pain faded, as it always does, I ran on my own for the rest of the race. I managed a negative split, which was lovely, and finished just over my goal time in 50:27. Yes, again, not bad.
It was a beautiful day, a nice little loop around the island, and a decent effort. But had this race been smaller, it would have made all the difference. My time, when compared to last year's results, would have netted me 4th place in my age category in 2010. This year, with the higher number of runners, it only got me to 14th place.
We left quickly to avoid more chaos on the ferry back downtown. Didn't even get to go on the swan ride.
Tuesday, August 30
Bits and Bobs, Watches and Water
I hate carrying things when I run. In the good old days, I used to head out on runs with almost nothing; sometimes not even my keys, banking instead on the goodwill of my roommates not to lock me out (this rarely worked out the way I hoped). Runners aren't supposed to need the extra bits and bobs, right?
But I caved and started toting a wristlet, stuffed with glucose tablets lest I go low. When it became clear that I needed my blood sugar meter for longer runs, I tried stuffing it inside my wristlet as well. My wristlet is now dead: yellowed from sweat, punctured by lancets, ripped in two places.
So I caved and bought a SpiBelt. It makes me sad just to look at the thing, but I can see the value of carrying it on runs longer than 10km. Once my training ramped up, I realized that carrying my supplies wasn't enough; I needed to start measuring my pace, assessing my times, if I wanted to get faster.
So I caved and picked up a cheapo watch, because I'm not in any position to afford a Garmin (Christmas, mom?). The thing scratches up my arm but it does the trick. So now I'm carrying both a fanny pack and a watch, but it still feels like I'm missing something--especially since my runs are only going to get longer.
So I caved and bought a handheld water bottle. I hate this! It's terrible! But here we are. Runners, especially those with type 1 diabetes, can't afford to go "free" for hours at a time. I used to love the freedom of disconnecting from my pump for a short run, leaving it all behind. As my kilometers keep stacking up, though, the risks of going without gear far outweigh the bliss of feeling free.
I'd like to think that hydration is only an issue during the summer, but that's not the case. In the fall I'm planning some of my longest runs--20km +--and I'd be insane not to drink water before, during, and after those. So, handheld water bottle, I concede to you.
Now somebody just needs to get that information across to this bimbo: http://runningmagazine.ca/2011/08/sections/training/blogs/water-belt-or-fanny-pack-whats-cuter/
I'm still amazed that this girl was able to finagle a "style" running blog on such a respected site. (If you'd prefer to post a blog about running and disease, CR, I'm your girl!) She has decided not to wear a fuel belt or carry a water bottle because "honouring [her] body [is] the most important thing". Well, have fun with that. I've decided to honour my body by strapping three heavy, separate things onto it--because not dying is way more stylish than dying.
But I caved and started toting a wristlet, stuffed with glucose tablets lest I go low. When it became clear that I needed my blood sugar meter for longer runs, I tried stuffing it inside my wristlet as well. My wristlet is now dead: yellowed from sweat, punctured by lancets, ripped in two places.
So I caved and bought a SpiBelt. It makes me sad just to look at the thing, but I can see the value of carrying it on runs longer than 10km. Once my training ramped up, I realized that carrying my supplies wasn't enough; I needed to start measuring my pace, assessing my times, if I wanted to get faster.
So I caved and picked up a cheapo watch, because I'm not in any position to afford a Garmin (Christmas, mom?). The thing scratches up my arm but it does the trick. So now I'm carrying both a fanny pack and a watch, but it still feels like I'm missing something--especially since my runs are only going to get longer.
So I caved and bought a handheld water bottle. I hate this! It's terrible! But here we are. Runners, especially those with type 1 diabetes, can't afford to go "free" for hours at a time. I used to love the freedom of disconnecting from my pump for a short run, leaving it all behind. As my kilometers keep stacking up, though, the risks of going without gear far outweigh the bliss of feeling free.
I'd like to think that hydration is only an issue during the summer, but that's not the case. In the fall I'm planning some of my longest runs--20km +--and I'd be insane not to drink water before, during, and after those. So, handheld water bottle, I concede to you.
Now somebody just needs to get that information across to this bimbo: http://runningmagazine.ca/2011/08/sections/training/blogs/water-belt-or-fanny-pack-whats-cuter/
I'm still amazed that this girl was able to finagle a "style" running blog on such a respected site. (If you'd prefer to post a blog about running and disease, CR, I'm your girl!) She has decided not to wear a fuel belt or carry a water bottle because "honouring [her] body [is] the most important thing". Well, have fun with that. I've decided to honour my body by strapping three heavy, separate things onto it--because not dying is way more stylish than dying.
Monday, August 22
Acura 10 Miler Recap
Last Sunday I ran the Acura 10 Miler, the longest distance I've ever raced. I still find that hard to believe: I've been running half my life (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RHBikURKkUM) and I've only started serious road racing now? Luckily, I think I'm off to a good start. I've only got longer distances and faster times from here.
I've always wanted to run the Leslie St Spit (Tommy Thompson Park) but had never made it down there before this race. It's a real trek just to get to the spit, let alone run it. This course started in the Distillery--a place I'd also never been to, west end girl through and through--along the Lakeshore, out into the park and then back. The Spit wasn't nearly as exciting as I'd hoped it would be, but maybe I just didn't spend enough time looking back at the skyline.
This was my first race on an insulin pump. I had trained, prepared, considered all the options--but still felt like I was going into it blind. Would nerves affect my blood sugars? Would I soar, would I plummet? I had a sense of what my chip time should be, but it was vague; my blood sugars were even more up in the air.
My pre-race blood sugar was a not-good 14.4, but I decided it was best to err on the high side. I set a temporary basal rate an hour before the gun and made sure I had at least two gels in hand. I tried following my brother's advice to stay consistent, mile by mile (spoiler alert: my brother, freakish, finished nearly 30 minutes ahead of me). I came through 5km in roughly 25 minutes, mostly on track. I was feeling strong through 8km, until I finally took note of the Gatorade at the water station and knew: my blood sugar was dipping low. Way, way low.
From then on I ran the race from one Gatorade station to the next. I never pulled out my blood sugar meter to check--I thought it would eat away at my time goal. I never touched a single Gu--I thought it would impede my pace, even temporarily. Around 15km I started to really feel the effects of my low: shaking hands, starry vision. I faded when I should have powered through, finishing just over 1:25. Yeah, sure, not bad.
There were a lot of take-aways, and I don't just mean the tech shirt:
- With steady blood sugars my time would have easily been 2-3 minutes faster.
- I need to learn how to prick my finger while in motion, without spraying the person next to me with blood.
- Next time I need to take in carbs after 60 minutes, no matter how I'm feeling. The Gatorade was good for temporary sugar spikes, but the speed+pressure of racing demands more long-lasting carbs to keep my blood sugar stable.
- If I can run this race in a decent pace, I can definitely run the Scotiabank half under 1:50.
I'm finally starting to feel like a runner again. Bout time.
I've always wanted to run the Leslie St Spit (Tommy Thompson Park) but had never made it down there before this race. It's a real trek just to get to the spit, let alone run it. This course started in the Distillery--a place I'd also never been to, west end girl through and through--along the Lakeshore, out into the park and then back. The Spit wasn't nearly as exciting as I'd hoped it would be, but maybe I just didn't spend enough time looking back at the skyline.
This was my first race on an insulin pump. I had trained, prepared, considered all the options--but still felt like I was going into it blind. Would nerves affect my blood sugars? Would I soar, would I plummet? I had a sense of what my chip time should be, but it was vague; my blood sugars were even more up in the air.
My pre-race blood sugar was a not-good 14.4, but I decided it was best to err on the high side. I set a temporary basal rate an hour before the gun and made sure I had at least two gels in hand. I tried following my brother's advice to stay consistent, mile by mile (spoiler alert: my brother, freakish, finished nearly 30 minutes ahead of me). I came through 5km in roughly 25 minutes, mostly on track. I was feeling strong through 8km, until I finally took note of the Gatorade at the water station and knew: my blood sugar was dipping low. Way, way low.
From then on I ran the race from one Gatorade station to the next. I never pulled out my blood sugar meter to check--I thought it would eat away at my time goal. I never touched a single Gu--I thought it would impede my pace, even temporarily. Around 15km I started to really feel the effects of my low: shaking hands, starry vision. I faded when I should have powered through, finishing just over 1:25. Yeah, sure, not bad.
There were a lot of take-aways, and I don't just mean the tech shirt:
- With steady blood sugars my time would have easily been 2-3 minutes faster.
- I need to learn how to prick my finger while in motion, without spraying the person next to me with blood.
- Next time I need to take in carbs after 60 minutes, no matter how I'm feeling. The Gatorade was good for temporary sugar spikes, but the speed+pressure of racing demands more long-lasting carbs to keep my blood sugar stable.
- If I can run this race in a decent pace, I can definitely run the Scotiabank half under 1:50.
I'm finally starting to feel like a runner again. Bout time.
Monday, August 8
On J. Crew
When I was younger, 10 or so, I got into the (totally bizarre) habit of ordering J. Crew catalogues in the mail, then cutting animal heads out of old Owl magazines and pasting them over the model's faces. It was a brief summer craft project that turned into a full-blown obsession. I wish I still had a few of these kicking around--sadly, all of my outsider art was thrown away as kid crafts gave way to teen diaries. Back then, J. Crew was all crinkled khakis and pastel polos; it was more dockside, less desirable. It was the age of Dawson's Creek, what can I say?
(photo via stayinginwithvlada.com)
As much as I love Pacey Witter (which, to be fair--to this day--is a lot) J. Crew had to grow up eventually. And, year by year, it's been getting better and better. Under the creative direction of Jenna Lyons, she of the heavy framed eyeglasses and little boy nail polish controversy, the brand has become more classic and more daring at once.
They've been teasing an entry into the Canadian market for years, but next week it's finally going to happen: at Yorkdale on August 18th. I don't think this will damper my bi-monthly road trips to Buffalo, NY, but it's still a bright spot in a crowded mall. Now we just need to start pulling Madewell up past the border--gently, gently.
From the J. Crew fall 2011 lookbook:
(photo via stayinginwithvlada.com)
As much as I love Pacey Witter (which, to be fair--to this day--is a lot) J. Crew had to grow up eventually. And, year by year, it's been getting better and better. Under the creative direction of Jenna Lyons, she of the heavy framed eyeglasses and little boy nail polish controversy, the brand has become more classic and more daring at once.
They've been teasing an entry into the Canadian market for years, but next week it's finally going to happen: at Yorkdale on August 18th. I don't think this will damper my bi-monthly road trips to Buffalo, NY, but it's still a bright spot in a crowded mall. Now we just need to start pulling Madewell up past the border--gently, gently.
From the J. Crew fall 2011 lookbook:
Not so much the pants, but definitely the trench.
I don't enjoy being swathed in black all fall/winter long, but my coloring (red hair, freckles) usually doesn't give me much choice. This is a combination I can get behind, though. Mint and burgundy? So pretty. Reminiscent of one of my favorite snacks: mint chip ice cream with blueberries. Tastes awful, looks delicious.
Yes please.
(photos via fashionolgie.com)
Tuesday, July 19
Ikea Kitchen Cart DIY
Truth: I've never wanted a Bekvam cart, that Ikea staple of a million undergrad kitchens.
It's a functional size and shape, but the untreated wood isn't very appealing. Last month, during a DIY drought--our apartment is running out of projects, how will I live?--I decided to give in, buy the Bekvam, lug the box home and start staining. Our existing kitchen "cart" needed to eat it, after all:
I mean, look at that thing. Purchased on sale at Canadian Tire in 2008 for $10. It could barely even stand up straight.
Staining and painting are hard tasks when you live in a cramped apartment, so I opted to get the job done outside on our (equally cramped) front porch. Let's just say, I spent a lot of time yelling at wind.
After:
(Please ignore the disgusting switch plate. This ain't my house, so I ain't DIY-ing that thing.)
It looks like a million bucks--or like $249.00, which is the price of Ikea's similar Stenstorp cart.
I'm currently living cheaper than Ikea. I didn't think it could be done.
Also!
A gift from Devan's mom, or, a book salvaged from a basement in London, ON. Yes, those are goblets of milk on the front cover.
I may have to start a series of blog posts testing out these recipes. Nay, will.
My City of Internships
I've been nursing a quarter-life crisis for some time now. It's the culmination of a number of factors: this city, the job market, social media constantly making me feel inadequate, and my own tendency to sweat the small and big stuff. This past week I was mulling over how best to explain my woes through words. Then, today, this article appears: Unpaid interns, working for free
The Globe gets it. And it sucks.
I opted to apply to Masters programs following undergrad, for reasons I can't even remember now. I managed to get accepted to all of the schools I applied to, which only made things worse; it was fuel for my fire, confidence for my crazy. I knew that I liked writing fiction, and that I was good at it. I didn't consider my options-- in my mind, the only option was to get my MFA.
Two years later, I have a surplus of short stories, a rough draft of a "novel", and practically no employable skills.
My biggest problem is that I don't know what I want to do. At age 25, I still don't know what I want to do. I do want to write, but "writer" isn't a real job anymore; it certainly isn't a job that pays. In the world of fiction writing, my age is a positive thing (I'm only 25!). In the real world, the one filled with jobs and expenses and debts, my age is a liability (I'm already 25).
I know what fields I'd thrive in: arts and media in broad strokes, but specifically publishing, advertising, editorial, communications. None of those fields want me as is, though, because I haven't followed the standard path. Haven't you heard about The Path?
The Path: Get a BA--> get a post-grad diploma or certificate--> take an unpaid internship (or several)--> fight to the death with thousands of other kids just like you for the same small handful of jobs.
This city has a dearth of arts-related jobs, yet it's awash in unpaid internships. As the Globe article points out, these internships don't just take advantage of students and recent graduates; they're also inherently classist.
From my perspective, I can't afford to go to a post-grad college program let alone take a string of unpaid internships. I've cleared all my debts from undergrad and grad school, but it seems like the only way I can get a stimulating job is by putting myself back into the red.
I'm 25. I'm not sure if I have enough fight left in me.
The Globe gets it. And it sucks.
I opted to apply to Masters programs following undergrad, for reasons I can't even remember now. I managed to get accepted to all of the schools I applied to, which only made things worse; it was fuel for my fire, confidence for my crazy. I knew that I liked writing fiction, and that I was good at it. I didn't consider my options-- in my mind, the only option was to get my MFA.
Two years later, I have a surplus of short stories, a rough draft of a "novel", and practically no employable skills.
My biggest problem is that I don't know what I want to do. At age 25, I still don't know what I want to do. I do want to write, but "writer" isn't a real job anymore; it certainly isn't a job that pays. In the world of fiction writing, my age is a positive thing (I'm only 25!). In the real world, the one filled with jobs and expenses and debts, my age is a liability (I'm already 25).
I know what fields I'd thrive in: arts and media in broad strokes, but specifically publishing, advertising, editorial, communications. None of those fields want me as is, though, because I haven't followed the standard path. Haven't you heard about The Path?
The Path: Get a BA--> get a post-grad diploma or certificate--> take an unpaid internship (or several)--> fight to the death with thousands of other kids just like you for the same small handful of jobs.
This city has a dearth of arts-related jobs, yet it's awash in unpaid internships. As the Globe article points out, these internships don't just take advantage of students and recent graduates; they're also inherently classist.
"One of Mr. Perlin’s chief critiques of unpaid internships is they are classist. While they may be a stepping stone to gainful employment, students who cannot afford to spend a summer without pay are shut out from such opportunities."
From my perspective, I can't afford to go to a post-grad college program let alone take a string of unpaid internships. I've cleared all my debts from undergrad and grad school, but it seems like the only way I can get a stimulating job is by putting myself back into the red.
I'm 25. I'm not sure if I have enough fight left in me.
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