Race Report ~ Spartan Sprint North Vancouver

The more time that passes before I finish these race reports, the less likely I'll be able to remember which race was which... Just kidding, I've completed 4 races in the past 2 months, but 2 were road races and 2 were obstacle races, and they were all different distances. A pretty well rounded collection actually!

The Spartan Sprint on June 1 was my first Spartan Race of 2013. The "king" of obstacle course racing, Spartan is the original OCR organization and they've really set the bar for the various other mud and obstacle races that have appeared in the last few years. Definitely my favorite race series, Spartan races are all about strength, speed, agility, balance, grit, and in the longer Spartan distances, endurance. Competitors are fierce, well trained, determined, and adventurous.

Personally, I  thought the entire race was amazing. Package pick-up was the day before, so there was no messing around with line ups on race morning. Racers were divided into decent sized waves, so traffic was good getting to the race itself and into the starting corral. I raced in a group of 5, 3 women, 2 men, all of somewhat similar fitness level.

As for the course itself, it was typical Spartan, with one major unforeseen issue causing a number of last minute course adjustments: snow. June in Vancouver is usually warm, and the majority of snow has typically melted from local mountains by late May. But not this year. The course was essentially a bent figure 8, consisting of two loops which intersected in the middle. We started at the base of the "Mystery" chairlift, and followed one of the intermediate ski runs up to the top of the chairlift, and back down a different ski run almost to the start line, before veering off to the left and down to the lower half of the course.

The top half,or first loop, of the course (approximately 3k) was 100% covered in snow, about calf-deep, making for some interesting running! Obstacles faced in the first loop included over/under fences and barbed wire, pulling a 30lb cement block for about 40 feet, a sandbag carry up and down a hill, and even a little a bum-slide in the snow. We speed walked up the hill, ran down, and completed the first loop in decent time.

Loop 2 was where they had placed most of the obstacles, because it was snow-free. First up was the monkey bars, where I, far too excitedly, leaped out onto to the bars, my swinging legs following. In fact, my legs swung so far forward, my hands let go of the bars and I fell the 10 or so feet to the gravel below, landing entirely on my lower right arm. While I attended to the blood gushing from my arm, my teamates split my 30 burpee penalty (for failing to successfully complete the obstacle), and we continued on. Other obstacles in leg 2 included climbing up and over cargo nets, down and up through a steep muddy ravine, crawling through mud under barbed wire, up over walls, a javelin throw, a rope climb, traverse wall, tire toss, fire jump, and gladiator fight. There may have been a couple more that I've forgotten, too.

We kept up a good pace throughout the race. There were a few times the team stopped and waited while teammates completed burpee penalties or made it up hills, before finishing together as a group, in a time of 1 hour and 12 minutes. Could I have completed the race faster? Definitely. Am I happy with the time? Totally. I didn't go into the event with a goal to finish as fast as I could, I wanted to run it as a group and have fun. And that's what we did :)

"Failed Batt Test"

That pesky warning that pops up when we change batteries in Dylan's insulin pump, and perhaps one of my most hated diabetes phrases. Why, you ask? Shouldn't changing a pump battery be a simple, straightforward task? One would think so, but in our case it seems to always be anything BUT simple.

I honestly have no idea how often the pump batteries should be changed, or how long they're "supposed" to last. I guess it depends on what kind of batteries are used, and maybe how frequently the pump is accessed. Alarms, night lights, bolus reminders, do they use extra battery life? Probably. Regardless, it doesn't matter in our house, where batteries, especially AAAs and AAs, have always been more sought after than toilet paper.

With the amount of battery-requiring electronics, one would think that we had a surplus of spare batteries lying around, but that is far from the case. One would also think that as a parent of a child with an insulin pump, I'd have extra batteries reserved exclusively for pump use. That would certainly make sense, but, again, would be incorrect. Well, kind of. I buy batteries for pump use, but no matter how explicit I am about their purpose, they get snagged up by kids and used in other devices - toys, remote controls, video game controllers, etc.

Case in point: about 6 weeks ago, Dylan's pump was nearly out of batteries, so we took out the old one and went to pop in a new one, but couldn't find one. The next step was to take a partially used AAA our of an electronic device in the house, yet every one we tried failed the pump's battery test. We literally lined up batteries on the kitchen counter, testing one after the other. We'd put it in, tighten the cap, and wait. "Failed Batt Test" would appear on the screen, over and over. Finally, after over a dozen attempts, we found one with enough life to pass the battery test and power the pump.

It was mayhem; an absurd and unnecessary amount of panic and stress, after which we swore we would NOT got through again. So we hid a battery where only my hubby or I could find, so that we would have a spare no matter what.

Last night, while we were changing Dyl's infusion set, I noticed that the battery bars were empty, so I took out the old one and went to my "hiding spot" to grab the spare. Only it wasn't there. WTF??? I asked my husband, "do you know what happened to that spare battery we set aside for Dyl's pump?" "Oh, yeah, I think it's in the clicker for the Blu-Ray player," he responded. Hmmm. After a few muttered expletives, I grabbed the clicker and took out the two batteries, placing one after the other in the pump. "Failed Batt Test" on both. Are you friggin' kidding me?? I didn't even bother testing any others, as I know from last month that a AAA can have enough power to operate a remote control, but not enough to power an insulin pump.

At 10:00pm I drove to the store, bought an 8-pack of AAAs, took one out for the pump, and locked the rest in the glove compartment of my car. No, not really, but lets hope the next time we do a pump battery change there are some left!

Memories; The First Low

Diabetes Blog Week Prompt, Day 3: Today we’re going to share our most memorable diabetes day. You can take this anywhere.... your or your loved one's diagnosis, a bad low, a bad high, a big success, any day that you’d like to share. 

I love that these topics are really getting me thinking...there have been so many diabetes memories, both good and bad. I could post about Dylan's diagnosis. Or about Cyclebetes, the cross-Canada cycling event I was lucky enough to participate in not once, but twice. I could write about one of the many amazing JDRF events we have partaken in, or about the day we started pumping. All worthwhile choices.

But no. Today, the memory that keeps flashing to the forefront of my brain, is of Dylan's one, and only, REALLY bad daytime low. Sure, he's had hundreds of lows, in fact, lately he gets them daily. But this low...this bad boy was different. It had attitude. It was the type of low that keep a d-parent living in fear. The type of low that makes you want to hold on to your child and not let him or her out of your sight. EVER. 

One day, within the first year after Dyl was diagnosed (he was 4 years old at diagnosis), he was spending the day with grandma at her house, which is about a 10 minute drive from our house. (For the record, she is and always has been knowledgeable about Dyl's diabetes, and is one of the few people I've always been comfortable leaving Dylan alone with.) After spending the afternoon together, she was driving him home when she decided to make a quick stop at the library to drop off a few books. She pulled up in front of the building and noticed Dylan had fallen asleep in the back seat of the car. Side-note: this was a very common occurrence, and still is now. Dylan frequently falls asleep within the first minute or so of travel time. Knowing this, she left him in the car and ran the 10 or so feet to put the books in the outdoor return slot. She hopped back in the car and drove to my house. When they pulled in our driveway I could see her, from the kitchen window, struggling to get him out of the car. Again, this wasn't uncommon. He would sleep so soundly for short drives, that we would often have difficulty rousing him once we reached our destination. I saw her pulling him out of the booster seat and trying to get him to walk up the flight of stairs to the back door. And that was when I knew something was very wrong.

Normally Dylan would be disoriented after snoozing in the car, but he would still semi-wake up and stumble into the house. This time he wasn't. My mom was literally dragging him; she had both arms hooked around his chest in a sort of sideways embrace, and was attempting to pull him up the stairs, his legs and feet dragging behind. As I opened the door to help her, she apologized, explaining that he had fallen asleep in the backseat and she couldn't rouse him. 

I immediately knew the truth. He wasn't sleepy, he was hypoglycemic. Between the two of us, we brought him inside and sat him on the couch. I tried, unsuccessfully, to give him dex, but he wasn't responsive enough to chew the tablets. I grabbed a juice box, rammed the straw through the metal hole, and squeezed the juice up through the straw so that it dribbled slowly into Dylan's mouth. For the first few seconds, he didn't swallow, the juice running out of his mouth and down his chin, spilling onto his t-shirt. Then suddenly, as I was about to prep the glucagon for my first real use, he swallowed a few sips of juice. Then a few more. And slowly, as if by magic, the life returned; the color slowly returned to his cheeks, the clarity to his eyes, and the control to his limbs. He was back. 

Nothing, I repeat, nothing, can prepare a parent for that experience. I thought I was ready - I had done all the training, been through the procedures, I knew what to do in an emergency. But nothing I had read or studied could have prepared me for the real deal. That afternoon was the first time I TRULY understood just how unpredictable, powerful, and terrifying, diabetes could be. 

We, The Undersigned

It's Day 2 of Diabetes Blog Week, and today's prompt is, "Recently various petitions have been circulating the Diabetes Online Community, so today let’s pretend to write our own. Tell us who you would write the petition to – a person, an organization, even an object (animate or inanimate) - get creative!! What are you trying to change and what have you experienced that makes you want this change?"

I, mother of a child with type 1 diabetes, hereby petition the people of planet Earth to do their absolute best to correct and/or overcome any and all preconceived and unsubstantiated notions about the cause and treatment of type 1 diabetes. This includes any misconceptions, ignorance, simplicity, incapacity, naivete, callowness, and basic lack of understanding about the disease itself, as well as how to "best" manage it, and how to reduce long term risk of type 1 complications. Examples of such ludicrous notions include, but are not limited to:

• questions related to things my type 1 child "can" and "cannot" eat. And I apologize in advance because one of these days when another adult asks me "can he eat this?", I just might go off the deep end and shove aforementioned "this" where the proverbial sun don't shine. YES, he can eat that.
• suggestions that my son "got" type 1 diabetes as a result of too much sugar, lack of exercise, or obesity. Umm, hello? Have we met? I am borderline obsessive about diet and exercise and would never feed my children copious amounts of sugar or saturated fats, and I ensure they get plenty of exercise. Though that's totally irrelevant because there is NO LINK whatsoever between diet and/or activity level and the incidence of type 1 diabetes.
• stories about someone's second cousin's friend's mom who was "cured" of type 1 diabetes after taking some magical herbal/cinnamon/new age discovery. For starters, there is NO CURE for type 1 diabetes. Period. Second, if there were some secret cure out there, don't you think we would have tried it by now? And third, see first bullet for my in-advance apology, as this applies to you too, and where I'd like to put your "cure".

I wish that the lack of knowledge about type 1 diabetes was limited to the above list, but in fact these are only a handful of the masses of incorrect ideas floating around. There are myriads of great resources available to educate about type 1 diabetes. Check out my resources tab for some helpful links.

The End of My Love-Hate Relationship with Running

At the end of 2012, I decided to make some huge changes to my physical health. While I've always considered myself healthy, I knew I could feel even better, so I made 2 major changes for 2013 in terms of diet (I now eat Paleo almost exclusively) and exercise. An active person for the most part, my love-hate relationship with running has gone on too long.

For years, I have run in spurts. I'd sign up for a race, train (usually not even close to enough), run, take some time off (long enough to lose all of my fitness), and repeat. The result? I never saw any significant improvements in my running speed because I was always starting from square one; I had no consistency. The other problem with this method? No maintenance; I was always building mileage. That meant that the runs were always hard because I was pushing my body to run further or faster than before. Plus my dietary habits were causing spikes in my blood sugar that would result in brutal lows during my runs, causing me to actually fear running. No more.

Starting in January I changed the way I was running. I ran for fitness, for fun, and for stress relief, not with the goal of a specific event or race. I set goals for weekly and monthly mileage, and for number of runs per week, and I made sure I hit them week after week after week. My goals were ambitious, but not so much that they were hard to attain. January's goals were to run 75km, and to be able to run 5k without walk breaks. February's goal was 100k. March was also 100k, but with a focus on speed during the week, and on the long slow distance run on the weekend. April's goal was 125k, and by then I knew I was ready to run a 10k race and beat my previous best time. I also registered for a half-marathon May 5th with the hope of setting a PR there too.

Paleo eating has been massively helpful too. I diet of low glycemic index foods, protein at every meal, and a ratio of 35/40/25 carbs/fat/protein, keeps my blood glucose steady all day, including during runs. And with a focus on what I put in my body and when, I have drastically decreased recovery time and eliminated my need to "carb load" before long runs. My energy level is stable, by appetite is strong, and my stress level has never been lower.

Overall, these changes, albeit small, have totally transformed the way I think about diet and exercise, especially about running. For the first time ever, I wake up in the morning excited about running. It's gone from being work to being entertainment, and I celebrate and enjoy every little improvement. Finally, I have found a way to run that I know I can stick with!!

Reflections on Boston and Family

Let's face it, I'm not keeping up with HAWMC this month. Today's entry has nothing to do with the prompt for the day, but this is where my head is at right now.

Whether I'm running myself, or a spectator, I love everything about racing. I love the training, the package pick-up fairs, the bibs and medals, the cheering and celebration, and, especially, the atmosphere. There is an air of accomplishment in racing and it doesn't matter if you're racing to place, for a PB, or simply to complete. Everyone is a winner.

Monday morning I woke up and immediately found a website that was broadcasting the Boston Marathon live. Not only is it a huge event, and the pinnacle of marathons in North America (because it's the only marathon that has qualifying times just to enter), but my sister was running it for the first time, and I wanted to watch her cross the finish line!

Flipping back and forth between a site that was updating runners times at every 5k mark, and the live broadcast, I was thrilled to see that she was well on her way to a PB and possibly even a sub-3:00 hour marathon!! But just after the two hours mark, minutes after the male winners crossed the finish line, I lost the feed on the site I was on, and couldn't get it back. 15 minutes later, still nothing, so I headed out for a 40 minute run of my own, knowing I'd be back home before she finished. When I returned, still no live race coverage. Refreshing the stats page every few minutes, I was thrilled to learn that my sister finished the marathon with a time of 2:57:37; a best for her, and an absolutely incredible race time. After bragging in a Facebook group about her awesome achievement, I went on with my day.

About an hour later I received a message from one of the group members I had been boasting to, stating, "Jen, I hope your sister is ok." There was a link attached and upon clicking it, I learned of the horrible aftermath that had occurred mere minutes prior. With my heart in my throat, I knew I had to find out if she was ok. But get this: I don't have a phone number for her. I didn't even know what hotel she was staying in. Why? Because we aren't close. In fact, we barely know each other.

Here's the deal, in mini version. I was adopted as an infant because my parents were teens. They split up, went on with their lives, married other people, and had more children. I grew up in a great home, with terrific parents. I always knew I was adopted, but I knew I had to meet my biological parents. Not because I was unhappy or felt like something was missing, but because I needed to know where I came from. Period. When I met my mother, I was 19. She was 36 with 12 and 14 year old sons. I didn't meet my father until I was 29. He had 4 children, 3 boys who were then 19, 16, and 14. and a 17 year old daughter.

The age difference between my siblings and I is pretty big, and it seemed even bigger when they were teens and I was an adult. When I met my father's children, I already had 3 kids of my own, the oldest of whom was 10. The whole situation was awkward and strange for everyone, and I don't think any of my siblings really understood what was going on, or why I had suddenly intruded into their lives. Is that reason enough to barely know them after so many years? No. As completely overwhelmed as I was trying to assimilate all the new members into some semblance of organization in my head, I should have tried harder to get to know them. I should have made a more concerted effort to find out who they were as individuals, and build relationships with each of them. But I haven't. And I regret it.

So here's what I learned from the Boston marathon bombing, in a nutshell: I love my family more than anything in the world. And life is too short, too precious, and too unpredictable; every day is a gift, and should be lived as if it's our last. My plans for today? Give my husband and each of my children a hug and tell them I love them. And call my sister.

Comments for You

Day 15 Prompt: Comment! Pick someone else’s blog post and write a comment to them. Write that comment as your post for today and link back to them to let them know you were inspired.

As usual, I am behind on my HAWMC posts, but still trying to catch up :) For today's prompt, I chose to comment on a post written by fellow HAWMC diabetes blogger. Sweetly Voiced, written by type 1 advocate Melissa Lee, is a blog I've been following regularly since joining the diabetes blogging world.

After reading Melissa's post It's Cuplicated this morning, I knew this was the post I wanted to comment on for today's (actually yesterday's) prompt...

My comment:
"I love this post because I can so relate to it. Be it type 2, gestational diabetes, pre-diabetes, whatever, each comes with its own set of challenges, and each person's blood glucose level reacts a little bit differently to food, insulin, and exercise. But we ALL react. Just because someone is not dependent on multiple daily insulin injections, does not mean they are any less susceptible to the blood sugar spike after eating the granola bar or ice cream sundae or whatever other high carb, high glycemic index food they are ingesting.

And while advice or feedback from a non-doctor, or non-type 1 may be well intended, until someone has "walked a mile" in type 1 shoes, so to speak, I don't think they really get it. I don't think they CAN get it, no matter how good their intentions."