Truckin’

I’m on an exercise streak of sorts. Ok, so it’s only been two days, but it’s two days of waking up at 5 a.m. to do this. I’ve always said that if I don’t exercise first thing in the morning, it won’t happen. Well, after the baby was born I just couldn’t get up early enough to do it. A week or so ago I walked two days in a row in the evening. Just didn’t do it for me the way my morning walks have. Sort of sets the tone for the day instead of erasing what I did all day.

The good thing is that now I’m itching for it. I had to force myself out of bed this morning, but once I was up and walking it felt so good. It’ll be hard to work it in this weekend (my husband works this weekend and I’ll be damned if I’m gonna get up early just for a walk on a Saturday), but I’m determined to walk at least one day this weekend, if not both. I used to allow myself to skip one day a week, but I think if I skip a day so soon into this that it’ll be easier for me to not be consistent.

I love the effects of my walks. In addition to some me-time (so what if I have to get up at 5 a.m. to have alone time, right?!) I’m moving faster, I’m more focused, I feel better all around. And my blood sugar rocks to boot! Yesterday, my fasting was 100, went to 92 after my walk and I was 105 two hours post. I actually went low yesterday right before lunch. I was 66. Hadn’t been that low in quite a while. (Lowest I’ve ever recorded is 57. Didn’t even have symptoms until I checked, but that’s a post for another day.)

Today’s numbers: 114 fasting (had Sonic for dinner), 86 after my walk and 78 two hours post (woo hoo!). I had a snack at the two hour mark to avoid a low and another snack about an hour and a half after that (hungry!). Two snacks, but neither was chocolate. Go me!

I’m really pushing myself hard, too. Not letting me ease into this at all. Read: no shortcuts on the route, no walking slow. I’m so spent when I get home, but feeling the effects of a good stretch afterwards and seeing such good numbers AND finally feeling like I have some discipline and self control just make it all worth it.

I sort of on purpose started in the middle of the week. I didn’t want to have to muddle through five days of getting up early and then hating myself for skipping a day. This way, I’ve done it twice, and feel great and want to continue over the weekend. All good makeup for keeping it up Monday morning.

Won’t be long and I’ll be able to ease off on some of this insulin, I suspect. Right now, I’m at 15 units of Lantus. Which isn’t much, but it is considering I was taking 20 units when I was pregnant. I’ve always had a little guilt about that, although I’ve read some other folks saying that breastfeeding actually increased their insulin resistance. I hope I’m in that camp.

Wow, this is a pretty boring post, but just wanted to share my walking streak with the D world. Could use some virtual cheerleaders to keep me going…!

Living the retirement life

I must admit to a small amount of teasing when Mom and Dad began living the epitome of retirement: driving from their home in St. Louis to their home in a retirement community in Phoenix in an old RV and joining the 40s and 50s Club to "meet young people" among other novelties.

Then there were the rock shows. And I'm not talking about Paul Anka. There was so much rock collecting and rock polishing that I even gave Dad a book about rocks for Christmas. He loved it.

So when Mom told me that I needed to find out my right-hand-ring size because they were making me a ring in one of their classes I guess I shouldn't have been surprised. I thought that was pretty cool, but kind of put it out of my mind, really. I had a note on my desk for several weeks reminding me to find out my ring size, but I just never got to it. I guess, honestly, I didn't take the ring very seriously. (Bad me!)

Earlier this week, Dad said he had put the ring in the mail. He had meant to give it to me last time we saw each other, but he forgot. I was excited to see it and so incredibly flattered.

So when this amethyst (my birth stone) beauty showed up, I couldn't wait to show it off! I quickly took pictures of it this morning so I could put it on the Web and literally show the world. I e-mailed pictures to friends and showed it off to everyone at work, all of whom said in awe, "Your Dad made this?"

"Yeah," I said. "Isn't it cool?"

Today's Kidism

And how 'bout that...it's Wednesday.

My three year old: Mom, what are we having for dinner?
Me: Um, I think I'm going to make toasted ravioli.
My three year old: Well, I just want ravioli without any toast in it.

I hope you know...this means war!

I'm living by the book today. Meaning, I checked my fasting sugar (94!); then ate breakfast; ate nothing until I checked at 2 hours post (125!); then had one--just ONE--snack of a granola bar; didn't eat again until lunchtime, which was an hour ago; and won't eat again for another hour although I still feel terribly hungry; I will have one--just ONE--snack and I won't stop for a king-size Twix when I leave to feed the baby today; I will have a decent dinner and I won't snack before dinner; and I won't snack after dinner although I know I'll still feel terribly hungry all day.

See, my favorite pants are getting a little snug. As I was sitting on the couch last night snuggling with the baby at 8 p.m., still dressed in my work clothes, I said "I need to take my pants off." To which my husband replied, "That's the best thing you've said all day." Chuckle, chuckle. Anyway. I've been here before. I watch my clothes get smaller and my waist get bigger and instead of inspiring me to eat less, I actually eat more.

So I'm trying to be proactive. Last week I walked two days in a row and it felt so good. So good. I have already told myself that I WILL walk tonight. I will get hot and sweaty and I will really have to convince myself to go because I have a ton of other stuff to do, but I WILL walk tonight.

I just can't figure out this constant hunger issue I'm having. I know I need extra calories because I'm still breastfeeding, but I feel like no matter how much I eat it's not enough. And often I can hold it together most of the day, but by mid- to late afternoon I lose it and eat everything in sight and still feel ridiculously hungry. It's a strange hunger feeling, too. It's not like a high blood sugar hunger. It's just this hollow, mildly hungry feeling. Like I need a snack to hold me over the next hour until my next meal. But when I have that snack, it's like I never ate it. I'm just never satisfied.

Anyway. So I'm hoping to whip myself back into shape mentally by not letting myself eat so much today. Hopefully my favorite pants won't be so tight after a few weeks of this.

I'm inspired

Inspired by Photo Friday and Tuesday Tidbits, I have decided to implement my own come-back-and-see-me ploy: Kidisms. I may eventually make this a regular, say, Wednesday feature, but for the time being it will be random as I have difficulty predicting when my children will say the cutest thing ever.

So, today's kidisms:
"I'm going to the restaurant, Mom." --my three year old on the way to the "restroom" this morning.

"I have a horse to see a man about." --my six year old randomly at dinner the other night.

The need for conformity

Something's been bothering me lately. As I delve deeper into the diabetes community, I'm finding that some people are keeping their disease a secret. Not from everyone necessarily, but from most people. And not like a dirty little secret, but something more personal. Which it certainly is; however, something that should be shared. I don't go parading my disease around like a medal, but I certainly don't keep it to myself.

Case in point: Two weeks ago, I traveled with some co-workers to our main office. First, four of us drove two hours to the nearest airport where we flew another two hours (after waiting on the tar mack for almost 90 minutes while the plane was de-iced, but that's another story entirely) for a spring planning meeting. I was the designated driver, and as soon as my three colleagues joined me, I immediately told them where my candy was and informed the new one that I was diabetic (two of them already knew). To me, this is common sense. Sure, I was wearing a medic ID bracelet, but how much better was it for all of us for me to just put that out there and let people know the quickest route to combating a low?

I felt like I had people in my corner watching out for me the entire trip. They knew I needed to eat and to take care of myself. But they were responsible enough to let me be responsible for myself. They just kept it in the backs of their minds in case something happened. Like, a car accident or a pass-out low. They would then know, they could tell the right people 'Hey, she's got diabetes.'

Furthermore, I believe that by telling people about my life we can learn from each other. Maybe I don't want it to come up in a job interview, but I'm not going to get bent out of shape if it does. As I posted several months ago, my sitter's husband had recently been diagnosed with Type 2. I believe I was able to help him with a number of food choices and overall diabetes awareness and education. I believe I helped this man. Had I not been open about my own personal health, chances are we never would have discussed his diabetes. I don't think I saved his life, but I certainly offered him more information than he already had. AND, he felt comfortable enough to start asking me questions.

So, I'm not just bothered by this, I think I'm actually concerned about the well-being of my fellow PWD. Not just your physical self, but your mental self. I understand the desire to be normal and to Just. Not. Have. To. Deal. With. This. Stinking. Disease. But I also understand the therapy involved in talking. There have been plenty of times I've talked a friend or my child or my husband through something that I have never been through. And that talk helps both of us. May even help me down the road when I actually do encounter that situation.

I'm concerned about the why behind keeping it quiet. Why do we have to make it such a big deal? Why can't we just lay it all on the line and let people know what we're going through?

Another case in point: I am also a person with depression. And I'm not afraid to tell anyone that fact about me either. There is such a stigma attached to depression. But the more we talk about it and the more we let the world know that it's OK to be different, the more people who need it will get the help they need. (The more we tell Tom Cruise to shove it, the better the world will be.)

Depression and diabetes are part of me. They are part of what makes me me. They don't define me. It's my sense of humor, my passion, my work ethic and my desires in addition to diabetes and depression that define me. And I'm not ashamed of any of it.

What about you? How do you define yourself?