Email from Joe Brady earlier:
Here's the updated information on Michelle Alswager and her son, Jesse.
You can visit a memorial website at http://www.caringbridge.org/visit/jessealswager. There you will be able to read "Jesse's Story," leave a guestbook message for Michelle and her family, and donate to the Jesse Alswager Memorial Fund at the UW Credit Union through PayPal. You can also donate through snailmail at:
Jesse Alswager Memorial Fund
c/o UW Credit Union
PO Box 44963
Madison, WI 53744-4963
The visitation and funeral will be held Monday from 3 to 7 pm on the west side of Madison on Raymond Road. Jesse's obituary is scheduled for Saturday's Wisconsin State Journal.
Watch the local news Channel 27 Thursday evening news at 10:00 for a feature on Jesse. Channel 15 may also have a segment on Thursday (or on Friday).
At present, Michelle and family have plenty of food. She's answering her phone when she can. Since you are a supporter of the cause to cure diabetes, take comfort in Michelle's words and spirit as found on Jesse's memorial website. Michelle writes, "I've spent the past 10 years fighting for Jesse and a cure, and rest assured his passing is just the beginning."
**
If you would like to mail a card to Michelle and her family, please email me for her mailing address.
Thursday, February 04, 2010
Beyond Belief
I am so incredibly saddened to share that Jesse Alswager, who inspired not only his mother Michelle, but countless others in the diabetes community, passed away last night. Michelle was tireless in her efforts to support finding a cure for type 1 diabetes, and in showing people with diabetes that they could live full and happy lives. Jesse was 13 years old, and was diagnosed with type 1 diabetes 10 years ago in March. He was loved by all who knew him.
More information will be forthcoming but I believe that in lieu of flowers, a memorial fund will be set up. If you would like to email condolences for Michelle and her family, you can send them to an email that I set up: forjessealswager@gmail.com. I will make sure they are delivered to Michelle.
I have just heard that funeral services may be happening Monday in Madison, Wisconsin, although this has not been confirmed. I will post more details as they become available.
From Sean Busby: "If it was not for my hero Jesse, Riding on Insulin Snowboarding Camps would have been a fling. Jesse and Michelle were my diabetes support system and the reason of making Riding on Insulin go global. Jesse inspired so many and has helped so many children and adults that suffer from diabetes. His mother is an amazing fighter and she fought along side of Jesse for everyone that has type 1 diabetes - in his name. Our sky will now shine brighter now as we have a new star in the sky. He is loved and missed tremendously."
Note: I should re-emphasize that funeral plans are tentative and have NOT been confirmed yet.
More information will be forthcoming but I believe that in lieu of flowers, a memorial fund will be set up. If you would like to email condolences for Michelle and her family, you can send them to an email that I set up: forjessealswager@gmail.com. I will make sure they are delivered to Michelle.
I have just heard that funeral services may be happening Monday in Madison, Wisconsin, although this has not been confirmed. I will post more details as they become available.
From Sean Busby: "If it was not for my hero Jesse, Riding on Insulin Snowboarding Camps would have been a fling. Jesse and Michelle were my diabetes support system and the reason of making Riding on Insulin go global. Jesse inspired so many and has helped so many children and adults that suffer from diabetes. His mother is an amazing fighter and she fought along side of Jesse for everyone that has type 1 diabetes - in his name. Our sky will now shine brighter now as we have a new star in the sky. He is loved and missed tremendously."
Note: I should re-emphasize that funeral plans are tentative and have NOT been confirmed yet.
Monday, February 01, 2010
Early Bird Crit, Revisited
Last year after my horrible crash, when I was still unable to get out of bed without crying tears of pain, I was faced with the decision of whether I would get a kit (jersey + bike shorts) for the bike race team I had joined. "Why in the world would I even consider this?" The final diagnosis had been fractures in my left clavicle, 9 posterior ribs (if I add up all the fractures reported on the Xrays) and L2 transverse process, pleural effusion, severe bruising and road rash. I have never gone through anything else even remotely as painful, physically, as that experience. But, I decided that it was not a good time to make the decision to quit. I would order the kit.
As the months passed, I thought a lot about what I would do with bike racing. I debated, "Do I actually want to get over this crash?" Was the right thing to recover and get back in the game, or take my exit? One might say that it is brave to go back, to face the fears. On the other hand, what about the notion of learning from one's experience in order to avoid harm in the future? Perhaps it would be foolish? What risks could I live with for something that was not required to get along in life?
So early this year, when I decided to attend the Early Bird clinics, I wasn't planning on participating in the practice races. Last year, I had decided that I would never do a crit again. Crits equalled crashing in my mind, even though I had seen many friends get through them successfully, uninjured. I had done 3 of the practice crits and 8 hours of clinics leading up to that race; but those were trumped by one very bad race. All of this year's Early Bird clinics and practice races, as well as the official crit, were on the same course where I crashed last year, and I hadn't been back since that day.
When I got there the first week, all the memories came pouring back in. I remembered where I had tossed my arm warmers right before the start (and had seriously regretted later). Were they still there? I remembered where I had parked my car, and how a friend's friend had retrieved it for me, since I was in the hospital (and wouldn't be driving for 2 months). I remembered that trip to the hospital on the spine board, wondering what this would mean for me. This year, in the first clinic, we were practicing pacelines and one of the mentors was repeatedly encouraging me to move up right on the wheel in front of me; I kept resisting, frustrating him. All my brain could handle was just riding my bike around that course; feeling pushed to do more put me over the edge emotionally and I pulled out in protest, muttering "I can't do this." After some moments riding solo and regaining some composure, I joined back up and continued the drill. Each time I passed that spot, an image of crashing flashed across my mind; but, I noticed that the emotional aspect of it lessened and I was able to focus more on the drill.
My plan was to sit out the practice race; but I thought that, perhaps, I could at least go to the start line. And maybe I could just do one lap, and see how I felt. Taking the pressure off myself to try to do well, or to even complete the race, allowed me the freedom to relax and just take it at my own pace. I went one lap with the pack and realized, "I am okay." I went another and decided I could keep going a few more. When I say "with the pack," I should really say "behind the pack." I just hung on, not really even in the draft much, prompting frequent "Close the gap!" comments from the mentors. Really, I was listening; but I just couldn't get in there.
As the weeks progressed, I had some moments where I broke off ahead of the pack. Most of the time I was consumed again; although, I came in 5th at one race. But in my mind, breaking off was basically an escape, as if the pack behind me was a tsunami wave that might consume me if I were caught. When the pack did catch me again, I would drop to the back and give up the fight. I just was not comfortable. And a couple crashes in those weeks seemed to prove my point. See? I was right to stay out of there. On the other hand, I also remembered something I had forgotten: I really enjoyed this. Although I had enjoyed the practice crits the year before, these feelings had been completely silenced by the louder memories of my crash.
Today, I arrived in Fremont after attending all of the clinics and practice races; still I felt uncertain about this, the official race. I would continue with my "one lap at a time" motto and allow myself to quit if I felt really uncomfortable. I knew, though, that I would want to complete the race. We got to the start and I was relieved to see they would continue splitting our field into racers who had completed 10 or more and those who had completed fewer than 10 races. The weather was similar to last year--sunny and warm--and I could have tossed my arm warmers. I kept them on.
As we began the race, I noticed that I was much more comfortable, at least staying with the pack (well, most of the time). I again took the position in the back, but at least stayed in the draft more than before. I didn't go for any breaks; my main goal for the race was to become more comfortable pedaling through the corners with the pack, remembering how I used to feel doing that. As the race wore on and as one mentor, aware of my corner anxiety by now, gave me helpful pointers, my confidence increased. Why, if I was going the same speed and following the lines of other riders, would I be the one to go down? I started to feel the road better, and to feel my anxiety a little less. I stayed in the pack a little more at times, but just focused on being safe. I found the advice to keep a broader view of the race, rather than to focus on the wheels just ahead of me, to be very helpful in anticipating the pack slowing and surging. I can't say that I was totally comfortable, but I wasn't miserable either.
We approached the last lap, which was when I crashed last year. The last lap can be dicey, when people are tired and positioning themselves for the final sprint. I wasn't sure if I would try anything or just coast in. I could see that some people were not going for it and I thought I might as well move up a little. I gave it a good effort and crossed the line feeling happy and relaxed (well, and completely winded). It was over and there was no repeat trip to the hospital.
Earlier in January, I had wanted Tara to take me to the point on the course where she had witnessed my crash; I was obsessed with going over every detail. I thought that I still wanted to hear her perspective on that today. As we were riding over, I thought, "I don't even really care about this anymore." She gave me her feedback, but somehow, I just felt like the story was old and over, like a movie that had become boring after too much viewing. I was done.
I still suspect it may take me time to get totally comfortable; but I think, now, that this is more a matter of me just becoming more skilled, rather than carrying a lot of fear from the crash. I will definitely be very mindful and careful and will respect my intuition; I will continue to give myself the freedom to pull out of a race if it feels unsafe. But I am really excited to feel free of this mental block that has been holding me back. I didn't know whether doing this race would really make a difference; my sense today is that it has. I feel excited and happy to be opening the next chapter, to see what stories will unfold.
Monday, January 25, 2010
New Year
Last year was one of those extra special years that leaves one changed forever. Learning lessons in having patience with oneself and life's circumstances does not come without some struggle. Becoming a more empathetic person can be painful. As I approach the one year mark after my bike crash, my bones are healed and I am riding my bike again with joy. Still, I have frequent reminders--pain here or there, or thoughts of reflection--that tell me it's not over yet. And I wonder what subconscious lessons I have drawn from these experiences. Am I less trusting of myself and others? Will my sense of fear of re-injury and pain hold me back from taking risks--risks that could, ultimately, lead me to something greater than I could imagine now? How do I let go and become fully engaged, both physically and mentally, again?
Originally for 2010 I had signed up for Ironman St. George, excited to race on a course familiar to me after running the marathon there several times. I signed up when I wasn't even back to work after my crash, before I had taken a single pedal stroke on my bike again. After Ironman Arizona in November, I told myself to wait until January 1st to make any decisions. As the new year approached, it became clearer and clearer that I did not want to do this race. My knee injury that bothered me during the marathon at Ironman Arizona was not healing quickly and I did not want to spend another several months playing the "Does it hurt too much to run?" game. I needed a break.
I feel fortunate that I was able to do so many events during the second half of 2009: Death Ride, Barb's Race, Folsom Olympic, 3 road races, Lotoja, and Ironman Arizona. As I wrote before, the Triabetes events in Tempe were amazing and made the struggle getting there 100% worth it. But I feel like I need and want to take a step back from the super endurance events (Ironman and double centuries!) and focus on healing my body and giving my mind a break.
As soon as I made the decision, I was so relieved and happy. After 4 Ironman races in 3 years, I was really caught up in the energy and thrill of the sport; and doing the last two with Triabetes has been a gift. But I have to say, not having that big pressure is exactly what I need right now.
"Taking a break" to me means taking the pressure off any one huge event. I am still training, focusing mostly on cycling this year. I will also continue to swim, because I have really been enjoying it and also because it really helps my upper back and left arm stay loose. And there will be events that I will target; still, I am allowing myself to take things at a slower pace and to appreciate incremental steps of progress.
Tuesday, December 08, 2009
Ironman Arizona Diabetes Details
I thought I would give a description of diabetes-related details for Ironman Arizona for those who may be interested. This is not necessarily the best approach for anyone else or even myself, but is what I have been trying as of late. My strategy in training for past long triathlon events has been to do a lot of record-keeping, especially around key workouts that simulate aspects of the race. This time, for whatever reason, I didn't have the time or energy to be as diligent about that. Also, I was trying to cut back on calories during workouts, so it was a little harder to compare with race day. And furthermore, I really wasn't able to do any long runs so it was hard to simulate the conditions for the marathon.
On Saturday, I pre-programmed my pump for the race the next day, based on my predicted times for each leg of the triathlon. Typically for a race, I will program an increased basal rate before my planned breakfast time in order to help counter my tendency to run high on race morning. For an Ironman, this is typically about 4 hours before the race start. About an hour before the swim start I might drop it a little from normal; I don't need to drop it much because my basal rate is pretty much set to keep me stable during morning exercise. I'll keep it slightly lowered during the first hour of the swim, and then raise it quite a bit about 30-45 minutes before I get out. The reason I do this is because I consistently have a spike in my BG at the start of the bike. I have had races where, within one hour of starting the bike, my BG has gone from upper 100s to over 400, even with eating very little to no calories. I believe this is due to the high level of excitement (and therefore increased adrenalin) that naturally occurs in the transition between the swim and the bike. I'll keep my basal rate raised (say from my normal 0.6 to 0.7 units/hour to 1.0 or more) for the first hour or two of the bike, and then drop it down to a level that has worked for me in training on the bike, given my planned calorie intake. An hour or so before the run, I'll drop it down lower, to a level that has worked during training runs, especially those that had followed a long bike ride. I may also eat a little extra in the last hour of the bike. During the run, I often have to do some trouble-shooting it seems, but try to settle into a good level as soon as possible. After the race and overnight, I set my basal rates back to normal or to slightly reduced levels.
For me, this strategy has worked well, especially if I have done a lot of testing during training to get really comfortable for what rates work well for me. I try to get familiar with the actual numbers, rather than just a percent increase or decrease. Still, it is hard to predict how my body might react to the increased stress and duration of exercise on race day, especially after a week of tapering. I tend to err on the side of letting my BG ride a little higher rather than increase my chances of having a low BG, which is really painful during an Ironman. Although, having high BGs during a race is no picnic either.
Regarding bolusing, I will take my normal breakfast bolus 3.5 hours before the race start to give myself time to correct for post-meal highs, and to give the bolus time to taper off before starting the swim. I am still learning how much I can bolus during an event without crashing later. Correcting for highs on the bike seems easier, and I have more recently learned that I can manage with a couple units of insulin on board without my blood sugar crashing. I get really nervous taking big boluses, even to correct for severely high BG, during exercise. I just hate so much having low BG during a race. It really destroys me, physically and mentally. Although I have also learned that I seem to recover okay if I am patient when I have a low.
Record of my diabetes management during IMAZ 2009
(Thanks to Kevin for his Excel logbook, which can be found here.)
At 3:30 AM, 3.5 hours before the race start, I bolused 4.5 units for my 65-g carb breakfast. About 1.5 hours later, my BG was good at 165, but then started to climb before the start. I was surprised to see it rising up through the 200s and then spike at 303. I skipped my pre-race gel/Gatorade and decided to correct with 0.3 U before getting in the water for the swim start at 7 AM. During the first half of the swim, I felt good, but started to get hungry about an hour in; after some internal debate I ate a gel, which gave me confidence, and finished the swim at 182. I started the bike around 9 AM and was really hungry right away. I ate a few bites a few miles in and before checking my BG again, trusting that my basal rate of 1 U/hr since 8:30 had been enough. Unfortunately, I popped up to 349, so went ahead and bolused 1.4 units. This gradually brought me down to the 180s and then 130s about an hour before the run. I started the marathon at 139 and promptly dropped to 53 in the first 2-3 miles. It took me some time to recover from this and I was shocked at how high I had set my basal rate! What was I thinking? Anyway, I temporarily shut off the pump for 30 minutes and set my basal rate at 0.2 U/hr. This seemed to work for a while but then I had an unexpected, enormous spike in my BG; I think this was the beginning of the third loop. I wondered if the pain was stressing me, causing the high BG? Or probably the slow pace was requiring fewer calories? Did that chicken broth have a lot of calories in it? I took about 2 units but this high was stubborn, and I had to take another unit of insulin. I was over 400 for about an hour. Yuck. I drank lots of water, took some salt tabs to replace depleted electrolytes from the high. I eventually came down and then relied on the cola to keep me from bottoming out. I didn't check right after finishing, but had come up to 242 about 45 minutes after. I bolused for the pizza I ate and went to bed a little hungry, and woke up with a BG of 63 early the next morning. But otherwise, I didn't have any issues with low BG following the race.
Next time, I would keep my increased early morning basal rate until 6:30 AM, rather than 6; or perhaps I would raise it from 0.8 to 0.9 (above my normal of about 0.55 that time of day). For me, it's easier to treat a too-high basal rate than a bolus over-correction. About 30-45 minutes before the swim finish, I would increase my basal rate even higher--maybe to 1.5-2 U/hr--and would keep it there for about an hour on the bike. Or else, I could take a couple units as an extended bolus in T1, which would have the same effect but would be timed a little more precisely with my race. I used to use this method but felt like it was less to think about to pre-program my basal rates. Also, I think it works better for me to have increased insulin on board before I get out of the water. For the run, I could have lowered my basal rate earlier before getting off the bike, and should have lowered it more. It was essentially the same as it would normally be at that time of day, if not higher! I had based this on a level I've used for long training runs in the past but at a different time of day and not after a long ride. I need to keep my wits about me and realize that, if my pace is really slow, I am probably not burning as many calories per hour, so probably will need more insulin. I think my strategy next time might be to drop my basal to something like 0.2 units/hour before the run start and then increase it a little to 0.25 or after an hour or so of running.
I'd like to believe that I can figure it out once and for all and then have perfect insulin and BG levels at every race! But I think, for me, it is more realistic to expect a certain amount of fiddling. There are so many variables, new and old, to consider on race day. I definitely feel that, after several years of experience, I can anticipate a lot of the tricky spots during a race; and, even when things don't go perfectly (which is always the case for me, it seems), I have less fear and anxiety over it all.
**
(Stolen from an earlier post of mine...)
"Basal what?"
For those who are less familiar with diabetes terms, here's a primer. BG refers to blood glucose, which increases with food intake (especially carbs) and stress, and decreases with insulin and, often, exercise. Sometimes exercise can cause the BG to increase, and many other variables affect the rise & fall of BG. Insulin takes the glucose from the blood and helps to shuttle it into fat & muscle cells. Insulin must always be present and can be delivered through injection or insulin pump. I use an insulin pump, which delivers a "basal rate" of insulin throughout the day. I program this depending on my activity level; basal rates also change throughout the day. For me they are highest in the morning and lowest in the afternoon. When I eat a meal, or need to correct a high BG, I take a "bolus" which is basically like an injection except it's done with a pump.
On Saturday, I pre-programmed my pump for the race the next day, based on my predicted times for each leg of the triathlon. Typically for a race, I will program an increased basal rate before my planned breakfast time in order to help counter my tendency to run high on race morning. For an Ironman, this is typically about 4 hours before the race start. About an hour before the swim start I might drop it a little from normal; I don't need to drop it much because my basal rate is pretty much set to keep me stable during morning exercise. I'll keep it slightly lowered during the first hour of the swim, and then raise it quite a bit about 30-45 minutes before I get out. The reason I do this is because I consistently have a spike in my BG at the start of the bike. I have had races where, within one hour of starting the bike, my BG has gone from upper 100s to over 400, even with eating very little to no calories. I believe this is due to the high level of excitement (and therefore increased adrenalin) that naturally occurs in the transition between the swim and the bike. I'll keep my basal rate raised (say from my normal 0.6 to 0.7 units/hour to 1.0 or more) for the first hour or two of the bike, and then drop it down to a level that has worked for me in training on the bike, given my planned calorie intake. An hour or so before the run, I'll drop it down lower, to a level that has worked during training runs, especially those that had followed a long bike ride. I may also eat a little extra in the last hour of the bike. During the run, I often have to do some trouble-shooting it seems, but try to settle into a good level as soon as possible. After the race and overnight, I set my basal rates back to normal or to slightly reduced levels.
For me, this strategy has worked well, especially if I have done a lot of testing during training to get really comfortable for what rates work well for me. I try to get familiar with the actual numbers, rather than just a percent increase or decrease. Still, it is hard to predict how my body might react to the increased stress and duration of exercise on race day, especially after a week of tapering. I tend to err on the side of letting my BG ride a little higher rather than increase my chances of having a low BG, which is really painful during an Ironman. Although, having high BGs during a race is no picnic either.
Regarding bolusing, I will take my normal breakfast bolus 3.5 hours before the race start to give myself time to correct for post-meal highs, and to give the bolus time to taper off before starting the swim. I am still learning how much I can bolus during an event without crashing later. Correcting for highs on the bike seems easier, and I have more recently learned that I can manage with a couple units of insulin on board without my blood sugar crashing. I get really nervous taking big boluses, even to correct for severely high BG, during exercise. I just hate so much having low BG during a race. It really destroys me, physically and mentally. Although I have also learned that I seem to recover okay if I am patient when I have a low.
Record of my diabetes management during IMAZ 2009(Thanks to Kevin for his Excel logbook, which can be found here.)
At 3:30 AM, 3.5 hours before the race start, I bolused 4.5 units for my 65-g carb breakfast. About 1.5 hours later, my BG was good at 165, but then started to climb before the start. I was surprised to see it rising up through the 200s and then spike at 303. I skipped my pre-race gel/Gatorade and decided to correct with 0.3 U before getting in the water for the swim start at 7 AM. During the first half of the swim, I felt good, but started to get hungry about an hour in; after some internal debate I ate a gel, which gave me confidence, and finished the swim at 182. I started the bike around 9 AM and was really hungry right away. I ate a few bites a few miles in and before checking my BG again, trusting that my basal rate of 1 U/hr since 8:30 had been enough. Unfortunately, I popped up to 349, so went ahead and bolused 1.4 units. This gradually brought me down to the 180s and then 130s about an hour before the run. I started the marathon at 139 and promptly dropped to 53 in the first 2-3 miles. It took me some time to recover from this and I was shocked at how high I had set my basal rate! What was I thinking? Anyway, I temporarily shut off the pump for 30 minutes and set my basal rate at 0.2 U/hr. This seemed to work for a while but then I had an unexpected, enormous spike in my BG; I think this was the beginning of the third loop. I wondered if the pain was stressing me, causing the high BG? Or probably the slow pace was requiring fewer calories? Did that chicken broth have a lot of calories in it? I took about 2 units but this high was stubborn, and I had to take another unit of insulin. I was over 400 for about an hour. Yuck. I drank lots of water, took some salt tabs to replace depleted electrolytes from the high. I eventually came down and then relied on the cola to keep me from bottoming out. I didn't check right after finishing, but had come up to 242 about 45 minutes after. I bolused for the pizza I ate and went to bed a little hungry, and woke up with a BG of 63 early the next morning. But otherwise, I didn't have any issues with low BG following the race.
Next time, I would keep my increased early morning basal rate until 6:30 AM, rather than 6; or perhaps I would raise it from 0.8 to 0.9 (above my normal of about 0.55 that time of day). For me, it's easier to treat a too-high basal rate than a bolus over-correction. About 30-45 minutes before the swim finish, I would increase my basal rate even higher--maybe to 1.5-2 U/hr--and would keep it there for about an hour on the bike. Or else, I could take a couple units as an extended bolus in T1, which would have the same effect but would be timed a little more precisely with my race. I used to use this method but felt like it was less to think about to pre-program my basal rates. Also, I think it works better for me to have increased insulin on board before I get out of the water. For the run, I could have lowered my basal rate earlier before getting off the bike, and should have lowered it more. It was essentially the same as it would normally be at that time of day, if not higher! I had based this on a level I've used for long training runs in the past but at a different time of day and not after a long ride. I need to keep my wits about me and realize that, if my pace is really slow, I am probably not burning as many calories per hour, so probably will need more insulin. I think my strategy next time might be to drop my basal to something like 0.2 units/hour before the run start and then increase it a little to 0.25 or after an hour or so of running.
I'd like to believe that I can figure it out once and for all and then have perfect insulin and BG levels at every race! But I think, for me, it is more realistic to expect a certain amount of fiddling. There are so many variables, new and old, to consider on race day. I definitely feel that, after several years of experience, I can anticipate a lot of the tricky spots during a race; and, even when things don't go perfectly (which is always the case for me, it seems), I have less fear and anxiety over it all.
**
(Stolen from an earlier post of mine...)
"Basal what?"
For those who are less familiar with diabetes terms, here's a primer. BG refers to blood glucose, which increases with food intake (especially carbs) and stress, and decreases with insulin and, often, exercise. Sometimes exercise can cause the BG to increase, and many other variables affect the rise & fall of BG. Insulin takes the glucose from the blood and helps to shuttle it into fat & muscle cells. Insulin must always be present and can be delivered through injection or insulin pump. I use an insulin pump, which delivers a "basal rate" of insulin throughout the day. I program this depending on my activity level; basal rates also change throughout the day. For me they are highest in the morning and lowest in the afternoon. When I eat a meal, or need to correct a high BG, I take a "bolus" which is basically like an injection except it's done with a pump.
Sunday, December 06, 2009
Triabetes and Ironman Arizona 2009, Part 2
Date: November 22, 2009, 7 AM
Race: Ironman Arizona, Tempe, Arizona (2.4 mi swim, 112 bike, 26.2 run)
Weather: cool, ~50 at the start to mid-70s during the day to cool again by the end.
Teammates present: 15 teammates from Triabetes, a bunch of guys & gals from Team Pacific Bicycle and a whole host of Triabetes friends & family
Goals: to keep focused on finishing and enjoying celebrating the day; to stay comfortable during the swim and bike and to allow myself time as needed in transition; to manage IT band injury so I could finish without causing long-term consequences.
Some races are about shooting for a new personal record (PR) or placing well; others are about making it to the starting line and doing one's best to finish. This race would be the latter.
Before the Start
Since I arrived with fellow teammate Sean at 5 AM, two hours before the start, I had plenty of time to make final preparations. I pumped up my tires, dropped off the special needs bags (which they give back to you midway through the bike and run), and cycled through the portapotty line a couple of times. I felt relaxed and ready to go--it really helps that they have you drop off all your gear the day before. Also, I planned to take a simpler approach to the bike and run this year, and would rely more on the aid stations for my fluids and nutrition. In past races, I have used Perpetuum on the bike, but this time I would just try Gatorade, water, and mix of solid food supplemented with gels etc. as needed. I would shoot for about 200 to 250 calories per hour while on the bike. For the run, I would carry plenty of fast-acting carbs with me, but also knew I could use the PowerGels and other food they were offering if I ran low. I had an extra infusion set inserted and primed the day before, but also had a spare on my bike and in my run special needs bag. I had a meter for the swim start, and another that I would stick in my jersey pocket on the bike and run. I had also thrown in a spare meter in my run transition bag.
Swim
After pulling on my wetsuit, I randomly found a few other Triabetes people; we made our way to the start with the slowly moving crowds. Sarah Jane and Sarah W. had set up a table near the start where we could leave our diabetes gear, and I was able to check my blood glucose (BG) one more time before hopping in the water. Although a bit on the cold side at 62 degrees, the water felt okay compared to swimming in the San Francisco Bay, and I was hoping that the fresh water would be kinder on my neck, since I yet again forgotten to put Body Glide on beforehand. I've seen some pretty bad wetsuit neckline welts before and wondered how long those took to heal. Oh well, it was too late; I just hoped for the best.
I lost everyone by then and just swam toward the start line, which was probably about 200 yards away. I had barely gotten somewhat close when the gun went off; we were underway! I started somewhere in the middle, trying to avoid the right side, where I imagined the more aggressive swimmers would be. Anyway, it was your typical Ironman swim start mayhem for a while but I could tell that we were going at a decent speed, and tried to stay in the pack. With about 2500 people starting, it was a big crowd! Partway down, I just didn't feel like dealing with it and inched out a little. Then the sun came up directly ahead and I couldn't see anything and just sighted off the other swimmers. I hate it when I look over and realize there is NO ONE to my side. I would move left, back to the pack to get some draft and then find myself to the right again. We passed beneath some bridges that I thought were near the turnaround, but I couldn't see the landmarks I had picked out earlier. But suddenly I was at the big red buoy; for the first time ever in a race, I thought, "Wow, it's already time to turn around!" I think having so many swimmers packed together in a somewhat narrow lake made for a stronger current than you might have at Ironman Coeur d'Alene or Wisconsin. Also, the turnaround buoy is not quite halfway through the course. I wondered if I might PR on the swim.
Swimming back, I felt really hungry and debated whether I should stop for a gel. I wasn't sure if I was low or just hungry since I had skipped my pre-race GU (gel), but decided to go ahead just to be safe. Also, if I even suspect that I have low BG, I tend to slow down; and usually when I am swimming, if I think I'm low, I am. But not always. For me, though, feeling hunger pangs is a pretty good indication of falling BG while exercising. I did feel better after the GU, although kicking on my back while eating seemed to disturb my calves and I started to cramp up. I tried to flex my feet and relax my calves, but they totally seized up. Owww! As I floated on my back, trying to relax the cramps, a woman in a kayak asked if I needed help. Hmm, I had sort of prided myself on not needing to stop during an IM swim, but this sounded like a good idea. Another woman who was closer slid up next to me on a surfboard and I grabbed it while trying to stretch out my calves. It took a few minutes but finally they relaxed, and I was able to swim the last half-mile without a problem. The Triabetes table had miraculously moved to the swim exit; I was very grateful for help with a post-swim BG check, which would give me a few extra minutes to make necessary adjustments. Also, it appeared that my neck was not chafed. Yeah!
the swim exit on a calmer day
I ran to get my transition bag, and slipped into the tent to get on my bike gear. I had opted to wear the Triabetes tri shorts and top for the whole race, rather than changing into separate bike and run clothes, so didn't really have that much to do. The volunteers rubbed me down with sunblock, which sort of globbed up on my wet skin. Clearly I wasn't in too much of a hurry, because I stopped in the portapotty to rub it in, probably wiping most of it off! (Yeah I had some weird sunburns the next day.) Eventually, I made it out of T1 and was on the bike. The Kestrel felt light under my feet as I made my way up the ramp, forgetting the rule about not passing anyone there. I saw some Triabetes fans wearing their blue shirts and I was happy!
Bike
My plan for the bike was to pace conservatively so that I could finish this leg without a flare-up of my IT band knee pain. I kept telling myself, "Don't be greedy!" meaning that it was NOT okay to just say, "Forget about the run! I'm going to hammer on the bike!" I have done this before! With such a flat course, I suspected that I might PR while keeping a steady but comfortable pace. Because I only had one water bottle cage on my bike, I planned to drink one bottle of water between each aid station, and would grab some Gatorade at the beginning of each, drink what I could and toss it at the last trash drop. With aid stations every 10 miles, I figured I would be passing one every 30-40 minutes, which would be fine. Actually, I suspected I might drink more, knowing that I had one bottle that should be mostly empty by the next stop. Also, I felt that by forcing myself to slow down a little for the aid stations, I would keep the pace under control better. My goal was to finish, remember? I tried to keep this in mind.
The course was 3 loops and nearly flat. Well, there was a mostly big-chain-rideable uphill on the way out and then the reverse slight downhill on the way back. There was a small short hill near the turnaround just long enough to stretch my legs out a bit. On the first loop out we had a pretty strong headwind, which took me by surprise since there had been NO wind whatsoever the days leading up! But the way down was super fast and fun and wow, that Kestrel is a bullet. I was so happy to see my mom and aunt along the sidelines on the way back, and got a big lift from the Triabetes crowds (as well as other friendly cheerers) at the turnaround for the start of lap two. I was enjoying this and felt strong and comfortable.
The next loop up, there was also some headwind, but on the turnaround there was also headwind. What?? Where did that beautiful tailwind go? Still, it was downhill and I had my goofy aero helmet on, which I actually love after all these years of mocking them, so it wasn't too bad. I stopped for my special needs bag and munched on some food and took a stop at the bathroom and was on my way again. I reminded myself that it was okay to not go crazy and rush through everything. I felt pretty good for the rest of the ride despite one serious flare-up of IT band pain. My physical therapist (PT) told me to swing my knee a little wider if this happened and lo! and behold! it worked. The pain was completely gone after a few minutes. I was happily surprised. Riding in the aero position was not entirely comfortable for me but I hadn't prepared much that way so I wasn't too surprised. I was probably in my aero position for about 50-55% of the time, when it should have been closer to 90-95% given the course.
Even though it was a good ride for me (and a PR of 40 minutes), I was happy to finish up and get off the bike! Immediately after handing a volunteer my bike, my knee started hurting. I walked slowly towards the transition bags as the volunteers pointed me up the hill towards my number. Well, I guess I just had one leg left. A marathon. Maybe if I took my time in transition, my knee would chill out and I could at least get through half the run still running. I finished the bike sometime around 3:30 PM, so would have over 8 1/2 hours to get through 26.2 miles. I felt like I could do this but I really didn't want to be out there that long!
Run
Eventually, after procrastinating as much as I could, I crossed the timing mat to start the run. My plan was to start off at a really conservative pace and just hope I could maintain that for the whole marathon. My knee was hurting a little for the first few miles, but I was relatively comfortably maintaining an 11-12 min/mile pace, which was my target. Around mile 3, I started feeling really spacy and checked my BG, which was in the 50s. I reprogrammed my basal rate, shut off the pump for 30 min, and loaded up on carbs. I decided to wait to start running again until I got above 80. I think Seb passed me here and it was good to see a fellow Triabetes teammate. My BG finally came up and I resumed my slow run. I was happy to see my mom and aunt, who were exactly where they said they would be, at the top of one of the short hills. "This is going to be a long run," I said. I was glad to note that they had some chairs to sit in!
Around mile 5, I decided to walk a little to give my knee a break, which seemed to help. On the second loop, by mile 8, the pain had increased and I was limping quite a bit. Some volunteers tried to help at an aid station by massaging my calf and knee area, but it got even worse after that, and my pace dropped off closer to 14-15 min/mile. I don't know if it was the massage; it probably would have gotten worse anyway. I kept recalculating how long this would take. Four MPH and 18 miles to go? I didn't want to think about it. I had asked my PT before the race whether the pain was something that should alert me to stop. I really wanted to finish; but more important to me was the ability to continue exercising after the race. He said that it could be a few weeks for the recovery, but that it shouldn't cause long-term problems. This was a relief to me as I continued, and although it was painful, I kept the pace below a level that would have caused burning pain. This would have been a show-stopper, whether or not I wanted to continue.
After an eternity I finished the second lap. The Triabetes tent area was amazing and it was so special to run through there. Thanks to my teammate Reid's sons for giving me the extra cheers as I passed through. Thinking about that last lap was a bit discouraging, because my pace was now somewhere between 3-4 MPH and I kept thinking, "I can't believe I am going to be out here for more than 2 hours!" But dang! I still wanted to finish this thing. I felt that physically I could get through it. Mentally, though, it was a struggle. At least, on this last lap, I knew I would be passing through each spot for the last time.
I was really happy to see a few faces from last year out there, including Aaron Perry, who was giving big cheers out in the boonies of the run course (yeah!) and Dave Shack, who was close to the Triabetes tent area. I commented to Dave how I had thought many times of his "power-walking in biking shorts" comment that made it to the documentary. Dave had made it through with a lot of walking and massive blisters on the bottoms of his feet! I guess I could muddle through another 5 miles. (But, still, ugh!!!) Thanks, too, to Ray Ibsen of Andiamo who walked with me a bit, his camera in hand. (Ray, you must have a really strong right arm.) A week of traveling had caught up with Elisa, so she had gone to bed; but she was still in my mind as I made my way around.
Crossing one of the bridges, Reid and Sean caught up with me, and we walked together for a while. It was so nice to be together, and I was happy to see that they were doing well. Soon enough, Denise came motoring on through like the Energizer bunny, and Reid and Sean decided to pick it up for the end. I tried to run a little here and there; it didn't seem to really help my pace all that much. But the end was in sight. After hearing Mike Reiley announcing other finishers for hours, it would soon be my turn. I discovered I had a little juice left and picked it up (relatively speaking!) for mile 25, and then dropped my pace by about 3 min/mile for mile 26. The crowds had all moved to the finish line, except for Nate Heintzman and teammate Jerry Nairn, a happy sight in the solitude of that last mile.
Entering the finish area was maybe one of the best experiences I have had, ever. I saw so many people who are so dear to me, and others whom I hadn't met but who were sincerely cheering me on. I think this is a huge part of what makes these events so special. Not to be too sappy, but there is a genuine sense of caring, love and happiness and as my dad once said, it is a "celebration of humanity." Doing an Ironman is a self-inflicted challenge and some may wonder, "Why do it?" But what you do when you participate in an event like this is to teach yourself on a physical, emotional, and mental level that you are capable of pushing through something that may seem too difficult to bear. I tried to take it slow and just enjoy celebrating this finish, and immediately knew that it had been worth it all, not just that day but over the whole year and many years prior.
Thank you to everyone who participated in the weekend, both in Arizona and remotely in other locations. And thank you to my Triabuddy Elisa; I am totally serious when I say I wouldn't have made it to the start without her implicit support. Also I am very grateful to Kristin McGrath from Colorado Premiere Training; she enthusiastically and patiently coached me through my recovery and a complicated race schedule.
I hope to see Triabetes continue to grow so that more and more athletes with diabetes feel supported in their fitness goals, whether racing an Ironman or training for their first 5k run. For me, it has been a gift that makes it worth struggling with diabetes all these years. I am grateful to those who have supported Triabetes through volunteering, donations and sponsorships, making all of this possible. Thank you!
Race: Ironman Arizona, Tempe, Arizona (2.4 mi swim, 112 bike, 26.2 run)
Weather: cool, ~50 at the start to mid-70s during the day to cool again by the end.
Teammates present: 15 teammates from Triabetes, a bunch of guys & gals from Team Pacific Bicycle and a whole host of Triabetes friends & family
Goals: to keep focused on finishing and enjoying celebrating the day; to stay comfortable during the swim and bike and to allow myself time as needed in transition; to manage IT band injury so I could finish without causing long-term consequences.
Some races are about shooting for a new personal record (PR) or placing well; others are about making it to the starting line and doing one's best to finish. This race would be the latter.
Before the Start
Since I arrived with fellow teammate Sean at 5 AM, two hours before the start, I had plenty of time to make final preparations. I pumped up my tires, dropped off the special needs bags (which they give back to you midway through the bike and run), and cycled through the portapotty line a couple of times. I felt relaxed and ready to go--it really helps that they have you drop off all your gear the day before. Also, I planned to take a simpler approach to the bike and run this year, and would rely more on the aid stations for my fluids and nutrition. In past races, I have used Perpetuum on the bike, but this time I would just try Gatorade, water, and mix of solid food supplemented with gels etc. as needed. I would shoot for about 200 to 250 calories per hour while on the bike. For the run, I would carry plenty of fast-acting carbs with me, but also knew I could use the PowerGels and other food they were offering if I ran low. I had an extra infusion set inserted and primed the day before, but also had a spare on my bike and in my run special needs bag. I had a meter for the swim start, and another that I would stick in my jersey pocket on the bike and run. I had also thrown in a spare meter in my run transition bag.
Swim
After pulling on my wetsuit, I randomly found a few other Triabetes people; we made our way to the start with the slowly moving crowds. Sarah Jane and Sarah W. had set up a table near the start where we could leave our diabetes gear, and I was able to check my blood glucose (BG) one more time before hopping in the water. Although a bit on the cold side at 62 degrees, the water felt okay compared to swimming in the San Francisco Bay, and I was hoping that the fresh water would be kinder on my neck, since I yet again forgotten to put Body Glide on beforehand. I've seen some pretty bad wetsuit neckline welts before and wondered how long those took to heal. Oh well, it was too late; I just hoped for the best.
I lost everyone by then and just swam toward the start line, which was probably about 200 yards away. I had barely gotten somewhat close when the gun went off; we were underway! I started somewhere in the middle, trying to avoid the right side, where I imagined the more aggressive swimmers would be. Anyway, it was your typical Ironman swim start mayhem for a while but I could tell that we were going at a decent speed, and tried to stay in the pack. With about 2500 people starting, it was a big crowd! Partway down, I just didn't feel like dealing with it and inched out a little. Then the sun came up directly ahead and I couldn't see anything and just sighted off the other swimmers. I hate it when I look over and realize there is NO ONE to my side. I would move left, back to the pack to get some draft and then find myself to the right again. We passed beneath some bridges that I thought were near the turnaround, but I couldn't see the landmarks I had picked out earlier. But suddenly I was at the big red buoy; for the first time ever in a race, I thought, "Wow, it's already time to turn around!" I think having so many swimmers packed together in a somewhat narrow lake made for a stronger current than you might have at Ironman Coeur d'Alene or Wisconsin. Also, the turnaround buoy is not quite halfway through the course. I wondered if I might PR on the swim.
Swimming back, I felt really hungry and debated whether I should stop for a gel. I wasn't sure if I was low or just hungry since I had skipped my pre-race GU (gel), but decided to go ahead just to be safe. Also, if I even suspect that I have low BG, I tend to slow down; and usually when I am swimming, if I think I'm low, I am. But not always. For me, though, feeling hunger pangs is a pretty good indication of falling BG while exercising. I did feel better after the GU, although kicking on my back while eating seemed to disturb my calves and I started to cramp up. I tried to flex my feet and relax my calves, but they totally seized up. Owww! As I floated on my back, trying to relax the cramps, a woman in a kayak asked if I needed help. Hmm, I had sort of prided myself on not needing to stop during an IM swim, but this sounded like a good idea. Another woman who was closer slid up next to me on a surfboard and I grabbed it while trying to stretch out my calves. It took a few minutes but finally they relaxed, and I was able to swim the last half-mile without a problem. The Triabetes table had miraculously moved to the swim exit; I was very grateful for help with a post-swim BG check, which would give me a few extra minutes to make necessary adjustments. Also, it appeared that my neck was not chafed. Yeah!
the swim exit on a calmer dayI ran to get my transition bag, and slipped into the tent to get on my bike gear. I had opted to wear the Triabetes tri shorts and top for the whole race, rather than changing into separate bike and run clothes, so didn't really have that much to do. The volunteers rubbed me down with sunblock, which sort of globbed up on my wet skin. Clearly I wasn't in too much of a hurry, because I stopped in the portapotty to rub it in, probably wiping most of it off! (Yeah I had some weird sunburns the next day.) Eventually, I made it out of T1 and was on the bike. The Kestrel felt light under my feet as I made my way up the ramp, forgetting the rule about not passing anyone there. I saw some Triabetes fans wearing their blue shirts and I was happy!
Bike
My plan for the bike was to pace conservatively so that I could finish this leg without a flare-up of my IT band knee pain. I kept telling myself, "Don't be greedy!" meaning that it was NOT okay to just say, "Forget about the run! I'm going to hammer on the bike!" I have done this before! With such a flat course, I suspected that I might PR while keeping a steady but comfortable pace. Because I only had one water bottle cage on my bike, I planned to drink one bottle of water between each aid station, and would grab some Gatorade at the beginning of each, drink what I could and toss it at the last trash drop. With aid stations every 10 miles, I figured I would be passing one every 30-40 minutes, which would be fine. Actually, I suspected I might drink more, knowing that I had one bottle that should be mostly empty by the next stop. Also, I felt that by forcing myself to slow down a little for the aid stations, I would keep the pace under control better. My goal was to finish, remember? I tried to keep this in mind.
The course was 3 loops and nearly flat. Well, there was a mostly big-chain-rideable uphill on the way out and then the reverse slight downhill on the way back. There was a small short hill near the turnaround just long enough to stretch my legs out a bit. On the first loop out we had a pretty strong headwind, which took me by surprise since there had been NO wind whatsoever the days leading up! But the way down was super fast and fun and wow, that Kestrel is a bullet. I was so happy to see my mom and aunt along the sidelines on the way back, and got a big lift from the Triabetes crowds (as well as other friendly cheerers) at the turnaround for the start of lap two. I was enjoying this and felt strong and comfortable.
The next loop up, there was also some headwind, but on the turnaround there was also headwind. What?? Where did that beautiful tailwind go? Still, it was downhill and I had my goofy aero helmet on, which I actually love after all these years of mocking them, so it wasn't too bad. I stopped for my special needs bag and munched on some food and took a stop at the bathroom and was on my way again. I reminded myself that it was okay to not go crazy and rush through everything. I felt pretty good for the rest of the ride despite one serious flare-up of IT band pain. My physical therapist (PT) told me to swing my knee a little wider if this happened and lo! and behold! it worked. The pain was completely gone after a few minutes. I was happily surprised. Riding in the aero position was not entirely comfortable for me but I hadn't prepared much that way so I wasn't too surprised. I was probably in my aero position for about 50-55% of the time, when it should have been closer to 90-95% given the course.
Even though it was a good ride for me (and a PR of 40 minutes), I was happy to finish up and get off the bike! Immediately after handing a volunteer my bike, my knee started hurting. I walked slowly towards the transition bags as the volunteers pointed me up the hill towards my number. Well, I guess I just had one leg left. A marathon. Maybe if I took my time in transition, my knee would chill out and I could at least get through half the run still running. I finished the bike sometime around 3:30 PM, so would have over 8 1/2 hours to get through 26.2 miles. I felt like I could do this but I really didn't want to be out there that long!
Run
Eventually, after procrastinating as much as I could, I crossed the timing mat to start the run. My plan was to start off at a really conservative pace and just hope I could maintain that for the whole marathon. My knee was hurting a little for the first few miles, but I was relatively comfortably maintaining an 11-12 min/mile pace, which was my target. Around mile 3, I started feeling really spacy and checked my BG, which was in the 50s. I reprogrammed my basal rate, shut off the pump for 30 min, and loaded up on carbs. I decided to wait to start running again until I got above 80. I think Seb passed me here and it was good to see a fellow Triabetes teammate. My BG finally came up and I resumed my slow run. I was happy to see my mom and aunt, who were exactly where they said they would be, at the top of one of the short hills. "This is going to be a long run," I said. I was glad to note that they had some chairs to sit in!
Around mile 5, I decided to walk a little to give my knee a break, which seemed to help. On the second loop, by mile 8, the pain had increased and I was limping quite a bit. Some volunteers tried to help at an aid station by massaging my calf and knee area, but it got even worse after that, and my pace dropped off closer to 14-15 min/mile. I don't know if it was the massage; it probably would have gotten worse anyway. I kept recalculating how long this would take. Four MPH and 18 miles to go? I didn't want to think about it. I had asked my PT before the race whether the pain was something that should alert me to stop. I really wanted to finish; but more important to me was the ability to continue exercising after the race. He said that it could be a few weeks for the recovery, but that it shouldn't cause long-term problems. This was a relief to me as I continued, and although it was painful, I kept the pace below a level that would have caused burning pain. This would have been a show-stopper, whether or not I wanted to continue.
After an eternity I finished the second lap. The Triabetes tent area was amazing and it was so special to run through there. Thanks to my teammate Reid's sons for giving me the extra cheers as I passed through. Thinking about that last lap was a bit discouraging, because my pace was now somewhere between 3-4 MPH and I kept thinking, "I can't believe I am going to be out here for more than 2 hours!" But dang! I still wanted to finish this thing. I felt that physically I could get through it. Mentally, though, it was a struggle. At least, on this last lap, I knew I would be passing through each spot for the last time.
I was really happy to see a few faces from last year out there, including Aaron Perry, who was giving big cheers out in the boonies of the run course (yeah!) and Dave Shack, who was close to the Triabetes tent area. I commented to Dave how I had thought many times of his "power-walking in biking shorts" comment that made it to the documentary. Dave had made it through with a lot of walking and massive blisters on the bottoms of his feet! I guess I could muddle through another 5 miles. (But, still, ugh!!!) Thanks, too, to Ray Ibsen of Andiamo who walked with me a bit, his camera in hand. (Ray, you must have a really strong right arm.) A week of traveling had caught up with Elisa, so she had gone to bed; but she was still in my mind as I made my way around.
Crossing one of the bridges, Reid and Sean caught up with me, and we walked together for a while. It was so nice to be together, and I was happy to see that they were doing well. Soon enough, Denise came motoring on through like the Energizer bunny, and Reid and Sean decided to pick it up for the end. I tried to run a little here and there; it didn't seem to really help my pace all that much. But the end was in sight. After hearing Mike Reiley announcing other finishers for hours, it would soon be my turn. I discovered I had a little juice left and picked it up (relatively speaking!) for mile 25, and then dropped my pace by about 3 min/mile for mile 26. The crowds had all moved to the finish line, except for Nate Heintzman and teammate Jerry Nairn, a happy sight in the solitude of that last mile.
Entering the finish area was maybe one of the best experiences I have had, ever. I saw so many people who are so dear to me, and others whom I hadn't met but who were sincerely cheering me on. I think this is a huge part of what makes these events so special. Not to be too sappy, but there is a genuine sense of caring, love and happiness and as my dad once said, it is a "celebration of humanity." Doing an Ironman is a self-inflicted challenge and some may wonder, "Why do it?" But what you do when you participate in an event like this is to teach yourself on a physical, emotional, and mental level that you are capable of pushing through something that may seem too difficult to bear. I tried to take it slow and just enjoy celebrating this finish, and immediately knew that it had been worth it all, not just that day but over the whole year and many years prior.
Thank you to everyone who participated in the weekend, both in Arizona and remotely in other locations. And thank you to my Triabuddy Elisa; I am totally serious when I say I wouldn't have made it to the start without her implicit support. Also I am very grateful to Kristin McGrath from Colorado Premiere Training; she enthusiastically and patiently coached me through my recovery and a complicated race schedule.
I hope to see Triabetes continue to grow so that more and more athletes with diabetes feel supported in their fitness goals, whether racing an Ironman or training for their first 5k run. For me, it has been a gift that makes it worth struggling with diabetes all these years. I am grateful to those who have supported Triabetes through volunteering, donations and sponsorships, making all of this possible. Thank you!
Saturday, December 05, 2009
Threatened by Driver of a Black Truck in Portola Valley
Today, I was out for my first ride since Ironman Arizona, and was enjoying a leisurely ride on the Peninsula. Heading back towards Woodside on Portola Road through Portola Valley, I rounded the corner and was heading down that smooth, gradual descent that just makes me happy to ride. There is a wide bike lane and although people often drive fast, traffic is usually light, and was today. I was approaching the intersection with Westridge when an older, dull green BMW, followed closely by a large, black pickup truck both passed me. The BMW's right-turn blinker was flashing. I also noticed some items in the bed of the black truck as it passed. There wasn't really time for the BMW driver to turn right but he proceeded anyway, and both the truck driver and I slowed a little as he turned. No big deal. The truck wasn't making any indication that he would be turning right, and I continued along downhill. It was impossible to believe he hadn't seen me, and we were already too close to the intersection for him to turn. When we were already both passing through the intersection, he screeched forward as he accelerated hard and then turned right, wheels squealing, onto the left side of Westridge, cutting in front of me. He continued to speed away quickly as I yelled some choice words; I noticed that the driver side window was up and figured he probably didn't hear me anyway. It was really close.
Momentarily I was just mad but then quickly became completely emotional and could hardly even ride--my legs were shaking on the pedals and I lost the spirit to go on. I saw a similar-looking black truck pass me again on Portola and wondered if it was the same one; it seemed entirely possible that the truck driver had not turned for any reason other than to threaten me. I pretty much coasted all the way to the turn-off to Woodside. I think it was just enough stress to open up some buried fears and emotions. I didn't have any flashbacks, but on a deep, maybe even subconscious, level I felt like I had come very close to serious injury, at least; furthermore, there was no doubt in my mind that this was a deliberate act on his part. Why would someone do that? Practical concerns kicked in because with the 15 minutes of easy riding I started to get really cold, and needed to pedal again. The emotional response eventually subsided and then I was just mad. I decided I would call the cops and report the guy. There was probably nothing that would come of it; but I figured this was probably not the first or last time this guy would do something like this. Anyway, it was all I could do. I stopped and made the quick phone call, and the police said they would send someone to check it out. They took it seriously, and noted all the details. I'm pretty sure that by that time, though, the truck was long gone. Mostly I just wanted to make a report so that it was on their record.
I don't know if this guy was mad at cyclists for some reason, but I was just riding along, alone, to the side of the road. I try to be courteous to drivers, especially near places like Woodside that see a lot of bike traffic on a regular basis. It doesn't really matter, though; this driver was using his truck as a way to physically threaten, and potentially harm me. I hope he takes a look at the news coming from So Cal and thinks a little more before trying this stunt again. I sort of doubt it would make a difference to him though.
Be careful out there.
Momentarily I was just mad but then quickly became completely emotional and could hardly even ride--my legs were shaking on the pedals and I lost the spirit to go on. I saw a similar-looking black truck pass me again on Portola and wondered if it was the same one; it seemed entirely possible that the truck driver had not turned for any reason other than to threaten me. I pretty much coasted all the way to the turn-off to Woodside. I think it was just enough stress to open up some buried fears and emotions. I didn't have any flashbacks, but on a deep, maybe even subconscious, level I felt like I had come very close to serious injury, at least; furthermore, there was no doubt in my mind that this was a deliberate act on his part. Why would someone do that? Practical concerns kicked in because with the 15 minutes of easy riding I started to get really cold, and needed to pedal again. The emotional response eventually subsided and then I was just mad. I decided I would call the cops and report the guy. There was probably nothing that would come of it; but I figured this was probably not the first or last time this guy would do something like this. Anyway, it was all I could do. I stopped and made the quick phone call, and the police said they would send someone to check it out. They took it seriously, and noted all the details. I'm pretty sure that by that time, though, the truck was long gone. Mostly I just wanted to make a report so that it was on their record.
I don't know if this guy was mad at cyclists for some reason, but I was just riding along, alone, to the side of the road. I try to be courteous to drivers, especially near places like Woodside that see a lot of bike traffic on a regular basis. It doesn't really matter, though; this driver was using his truck as a way to physically threaten, and potentially harm me. I hope he takes a look at the news coming from So Cal and thinks a little more before trying this stunt again. I sort of doubt it would make a difference to him though.
Be careful out there.
Sunday, November 29, 2009
Triabetes & Ironman Arizona 2009, Part 1
I guess it was really when I bought some Ironman Arizona socks and a commemorative T-shirt that I knew I would do what I could to finish. But what erased that lingering doubt was meeting up with my Triabuddy Elisa, and then watching the documentary premiere in a theater overflowing with the many friends and supporters of Triabetes.
I was happy to meet up with Elisa and to hear about her adventures sailing out to the Channel Islands, kayaking, exploring sea caves and hiking with her new friends. (Kayaking was her favorite, and I heard she was very brave!) Perhaps my favorite aspect of our conversation was that diabetes didn't even come up until I asked her about it; the weekend was about being a kid having fun, and realizing that diabetes didn't have to stop that from happening. I was so proud that she overcame some fears that any 10 year old might have, as well as diabetes-related uncertainties. Yeah Elisa!
I savored every second of the documentary that followed, and remembered why it was that I couldn't wait to sign up for another Ironman with Triabetes a year ago; I knew then that I would do what I could to finish the race. I was reminded of the challenges that every athlete faces out there, with or without diabetes. I was reminded too of that special bond we have as people with diabetes (and those with type 3 count too), and how a little bit of magic happens when there are others around who know what it means to be 53 and suffering during a marathon, or going strong at 140 on the bike. When someone wants to know my blood sugar out of empathy and concern rather than rubbernecking a potential diabetes mishap, I feel their care; I was reminded of this feeling during the documentary. My family who came to support me in the race loved it too, from the focus on the Triabuddies to the struggles and achievements of the adults and those who support them. I was so caught up in reliving the moments on film and enjoying seeing these people who I've come to care about so much, that I want to watch it again and again to capture everything I missed.
I left the theater and awards ceremony that followed feeling relaxed, more determined and also a little fearful of the day to follow. I would be counting on the energy of friends and other athletes on the course to pull me through this race, especially the marathon. We dropped off our bikes and gear bags and ran some last-minute errands before settling in for an anxious night of sleep. The big dance was about to begin!
(A quick note of explanation: In my book, a "type 3" diabetic is anyone who tries to learn and understand what my diabetes is all about, and doesn't look surprised when I lick my finger after testing...)
I was happy to meet up with Elisa and to hear about her adventures sailing out to the Channel Islands, kayaking, exploring sea caves and hiking with her new friends. (Kayaking was her favorite, and I heard she was very brave!) Perhaps my favorite aspect of our conversation was that diabetes didn't even come up until I asked her about it; the weekend was about being a kid having fun, and realizing that diabetes didn't have to stop that from happening. I was so proud that she overcame some fears that any 10 year old might have, as well as diabetes-related uncertainties. Yeah Elisa!
I savored every second of the documentary that followed, and remembered why it was that I couldn't wait to sign up for another Ironman with Triabetes a year ago; I knew then that I would do what I could to finish the race. I was reminded of the challenges that every athlete faces out there, with or without diabetes. I was reminded too of that special bond we have as people with diabetes (and those with type 3 count too), and how a little bit of magic happens when there are others around who know what it means to be 53 and suffering during a marathon, or going strong at 140 on the bike. When someone wants to know my blood sugar out of empathy and concern rather than rubbernecking a potential diabetes mishap, I feel their care; I was reminded of this feeling during the documentary. My family who came to support me in the race loved it too, from the focus on the Triabuddies to the struggles and achievements of the adults and those who support them. I was so caught up in reliving the moments on film and enjoying seeing these people who I've come to care about so much, that I want to watch it again and again to capture everything I missed.
I left the theater and awards ceremony that followed feeling relaxed, more determined and also a little fearful of the day to follow. I would be counting on the energy of friends and other athletes on the course to pull me through this race, especially the marathon. We dropped off our bikes and gear bags and ran some last-minute errands before settling in for an anxious night of sleep. The big dance was about to begin!
(A quick note of explanation: In my book, a "type 3" diabetic is anyone who tries to learn and understand what my diabetes is all about, and doesn't look surprised when I lick my finger after testing...)
Tuesday, November 17, 2009
Ironman Arizona...Here It Comes
This year has been one with many unexpected challenges, and I have never gone into a race with this much uncertainty. Because of a nagging IT band injury, I haven't been able to train as much as I would normally have done, especially with regards to running. As a result, I spent more time swimming; not only has this helped me to improve my stroke, but also I have come to enjoy swimming much more. Although my swim time probably won't be faster than last year, I am happy to be back to my pre-crash state (more or less). Because I have basically spent this whole year rehabbing, I do not want to set myself back in a major way. While some pain is to be expected in an Ironman, I am hoping I can know the line between enduring to the finish and risking permanent harm. At Lotoja in September, the left side of my back and shoulder became quite weak and my IT band really started to hurt after 150 miles or so. It might have been wise to stop at that point. Lately, I've been able to ride without pain most of the time and run without pain for about an hour. I feel that I should be okay on the bike, and we'll just have to see about the run. I know that seeing many friendly faces will buoy me along the way, and that I am not the only one who has faced extra challenges training this year.
But, more importantly, I am looking forward to once again being in the community of amazing people involved with Triabetes, from last year and this year. And maybe some new people will discover us and join us for future adventures. I can't wait to see the documentary and to meet up with my Triabuddy Elisa, and to visit with Ray & Nella (her parents). Their dedication in filming and producing this documentary is unrivaled and I know I share the gratitude of many for their efforts. Saturday is a celebration and Sunday will be a time to enjoy having so many friends and family members on the course while I enjoy my little "catered workout" in Arizona.
But, more importantly, I am looking forward to once again being in the community of amazing people involved with Triabetes, from last year and this year. And maybe some new people will discover us and join us for future adventures. I can't wait to see the documentary and to meet up with my Triabuddy Elisa, and to visit with Ray & Nella (her parents). Their dedication in filming and producing this documentary is unrivaled and I know I share the gratitude of many for their efforts. Saturday is a celebration and Sunday will be a time to enjoy having so many friends and family members on the course while I enjoy my little "catered workout" in Arizona.
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
What Is Inspiration? My Triabuddy Elisa
The Triabuddies program of Triabetes has given me cause to reflect often over the past couple of years on what it means to be a positive influence. Each team captain is mentoring a young person with type 1 diabetes; this group of Triabuddies will go on a sailing trip together next week, and will meet us all race weekend in Tempe to share the Ironman experience. My joy in swimming, cycling and running is my primary motivation for doing the sport of triathlon. Secondly, I see the positive effect the training has not only on my health but also on my strength to carry on with my daily life. I expect myself to exercise regularly as much as I expect myself to eat, sleep and go to work. So, sometimes, I struggle with the notion that what we as athletes with diabetes do serves as an inspiration for others. It seems presumptuous. But with continued reflection, I remember key people from my younger years who stepped in with confidence in my possibilities and the subtle direction they have had on my life. Visiting a research lab with my mom’s friend, Shirley, added to my belief that it was a normal thing for a woman to be a scientist. My high school running coaches gave me the gift of a lifetime love of running by pushing me just enough, and never doubting my ability to run with diabetes. Many similar experiences have added up over the years, helping me to operate with the assumption that most personal roadblocks can be overcome with the right approach and enough work. (Okay, I am more cynical at times and of course I get discouraged but I do try to get back to this.)
So I guess what I hope to show my Triabuddy, Elisa, is something she already seems to grasp—that diabetes doesn’t have to stop her from living her dreams. In fact, I have sometimes wondered, “How can I help Elisa? She seems to already fully understand this.” I was impressed with my Triabuddy, Marissa, from last year, in the same way. These kids have innate determination and encouraging parents who give them confidence that they can succeed. But perhaps I can be one positive influence she can remember if she ever wonders if diabetes might be a reason to let a goal slip away. And maybe what I can offer Elisa is an understanding of diabetes—that, yes, you should go for your dreams, but when you have frustrating moments, I understand that, too. Just because you can “give it a shot” doesn’t mean that it is always easy. But you just keep going.
People who have been positive influences in my life have also made efforts to build relationships with me. This year, I have had the opportunity to visit occasionally with Elisa and enjoyed very much a recent phone interview with her. Her descriptions of her life unrelated to diabetes were refreshing, and reminded me of how I have tried to live with diabetes; sure, it’s there, and it requires my attention, but it is not the focus of my life. For other kids and parents out there, here is a summary of my interview with Elisa, a smart and athletic, nearly-11-year-old girl in fifth grade, who happens to have type 1 diabetes.
I
n school, Elisa recently enjoyed learning how to create circuits with batteries, wires and miniature light bulbs, and discovered how to make a bulb burn brighter by reconfiguring the circuit. (Can you do that?) Also, she enjoyed designing an island with her team of classmates. They named it “Birthday Island,” complete with Party Hat Forest and Ribbon River. In math class she is learning about lattices, which sounds pretty advanced to me. (I had to do a wikipedia search on that one.) A couple of her favorite musicians are Selena Gomez and Taylor Swift. Although she won’t be pinned down quite yet, her answer to the adult’s favorite question, “What do you want to do when you grow up?” was photography, which she enjoys, especially if it includes animals. Her favorite animals are lions and tigers.
Elisa recognizes kindness in others, and kind people—friends, family, and people she “doesn’t even know”—are the ones she admires most. If given the chance to meet a historical figure, she might choose Sacagawea. Some of the games she enjoys are Club Penguin, Pop Tropica, and videos on YouTube. She enjoys playing mid-field on the soccer team and prefers freestyle and breaststroke during swim season. Another favorite game is 4-square. (Yes! I’m glad some things are still around.) Not surprisingly, Elisa “would rather play than to watch.”
Having been on injections for years, Elisa took the brave step of starting on the Omnipod insulin pump in the summer of 2009. Regarding the change she said, “It is different…because you don’t have to take a shot whenever you are high [hyperglycemic] or have a snack. And you don’t have to change it for three days. It’s comfortable to me because I can barely feel it.” She feels like it is easy to bolus and knows how to use many of the pump’s programming features. She reports that her blood sugars have been very steady on the pump and that she likes it “way better than having to get shots.” Although she was scared at first that it might hurt, and says that sometimes it does hurt, she would advise others her age who were thinking about it that “it’s not a problem. You’ll get so used to it that it will feel like you don’t have to do anything anymore.” Her parents help her by telling her how many carbs are in her lunch, but overall she is able to be much more independent on the pump. I asked whether her friends knew about it and she replied, “They keep forgetting, and ask every week, ‘What is that thing?’” She has one friend who seems to remember, so she directs the others to her.
Next week, Elisa will embark on her own Ironman adventure of sorts as she joins the other Triabuddies for a sailing trip in California. She is excited for sailing but it will be a new challenge to be away from her home, dealing with highs and lows without her parents nearby. Her new friends in the Triabuddies program, as well as the staff, will be there to help her. I am proud of her for taking on this challenge and hope she can gain new confidence in her ability to manage diabetes while enjoying the sailing experience.
And of course, I was curious what Elisa thought about triathlons. Her reply was, “They’re difficult,” especially the long run (i.e., marathon) at the end. Someone, please take Elisa to a sprint triathlon! Her favorite part would be crossing the finish line.
In the end, I’m not sure who is inspiring whom with regards to the Tribuddies program. Without a doubt, knowing Elisa will be cheering me on during Ironman Arizona has kept me going this year throughout many physical and personal challenges. I can say with certainty that I would not be pulling on my wetsuit a week from Sunday without Elisa’s implicit support. Making it to the start line will be my biggest victory this time around. I will do my best during the race and however I finish, I look forward to celebrating our mutual growth and success this year and to sharing many more experiences in the years to come.
As a final note, if you are able to support Elisa on her Triabuddy trip, donations of any amount are still needed and welcomed here.
So I guess what I hope to show my Triabuddy, Elisa, is something she already seems to grasp—that diabetes doesn’t have to stop her from living her dreams. In fact, I have sometimes wondered, “How can I help Elisa? She seems to already fully understand this.” I was impressed with my Triabuddy, Marissa, from last year, in the same way. These kids have innate determination and encouraging parents who give them confidence that they can succeed. But perhaps I can be one positive influence she can remember if she ever wonders if diabetes might be a reason to let a goal slip away. And maybe what I can offer Elisa is an understanding of diabetes—that, yes, you should go for your dreams, but when you have frustrating moments, I understand that, too. Just because you can “give it a shot” doesn’t mean that it is always easy. But you just keep going.
People who have been positive influences in my life have also made efforts to build relationships with me. This year, I have had the opportunity to visit occasionally with Elisa and enjoyed very much a recent phone interview with her. Her descriptions of her life unrelated to diabetes were refreshing, and reminded me of how I have tried to live with diabetes; sure, it’s there, and it requires my attention, but it is not the focus of my life. For other kids and parents out there, here is a summary of my interview with Elisa, a smart and athletic, nearly-11-year-old girl in fifth grade, who happens to have type 1 diabetes.
I
n school, Elisa recently enjoyed learning how to create circuits with batteries, wires and miniature light bulbs, and discovered how to make a bulb burn brighter by reconfiguring the circuit. (Can you do that?) Also, she enjoyed designing an island with her team of classmates. They named it “Birthday Island,” complete with Party Hat Forest and Ribbon River. In math class she is learning about lattices, which sounds pretty advanced to me. (I had to do a wikipedia search on that one.) A couple of her favorite musicians are Selena Gomez and Taylor Swift. Although she won’t be pinned down quite yet, her answer to the adult’s favorite question, “What do you want to do when you grow up?” was photography, which she enjoys, especially if it includes animals. Her favorite animals are lions and tigers.Elisa recognizes kindness in others, and kind people—friends, family, and people she “doesn’t even know”—are the ones she admires most. If given the chance to meet a historical figure, she might choose Sacagawea. Some of the games she enjoys are Club Penguin, Pop Tropica, and videos on YouTube. She enjoys playing mid-field on the soccer team and prefers freestyle and breaststroke during swim season. Another favorite game is 4-square. (Yes! I’m glad some things are still around.) Not surprisingly, Elisa “would rather play than to watch.”
Having been on injections for years, Elisa took the brave step of starting on the Omnipod insulin pump in the summer of 2009. Regarding the change she said, “It is different…because you don’t have to take a shot whenever you are high [hyperglycemic] or have a snack. And you don’t have to change it for three days. It’s comfortable to me because I can barely feel it.” She feels like it is easy to bolus and knows how to use many of the pump’s programming features. She reports that her blood sugars have been very steady on the pump and that she likes it “way better than having to get shots.” Although she was scared at first that it might hurt, and says that sometimes it does hurt, she would advise others her age who were thinking about it that “it’s not a problem. You’ll get so used to it that it will feel like you don’t have to do anything anymore.” Her parents help her by telling her how many carbs are in her lunch, but overall she is able to be much more independent on the pump. I asked whether her friends knew about it and she replied, “They keep forgetting, and ask every week, ‘What is that thing?’” She has one friend who seems to remember, so she directs the others to her.
Next week, Elisa will embark on her own Ironman adventure of sorts as she joins the other Triabuddies for a sailing trip in California. She is excited for sailing but it will be a new challenge to be away from her home, dealing with highs and lows without her parents nearby. Her new friends in the Triabuddies program, as well as the staff, will be there to help her. I am proud of her for taking on this challenge and hope she can gain new confidence in her ability to manage diabetes while enjoying the sailing experience.
And of course, I was curious what Elisa thought about triathlons. Her reply was, “They’re difficult,” especially the long run (i.e., marathon) at the end. Someone, please take Elisa to a sprint triathlon! Her favorite part would be crossing the finish line.
In the end, I’m not sure who is inspiring whom with regards to the Tribuddies program. Without a doubt, knowing Elisa will be cheering me on during Ironman Arizona has kept me going this year throughout many physical and personal challenges. I can say with certainty that I would not be pulling on my wetsuit a week from Sunday without Elisa’s implicit support. Making it to the start line will be my biggest victory this time around. I will do my best during the race and however I finish, I look forward to celebrating our mutual growth and success this year and to sharing many more experiences in the years to come.
As a final note, if you are able to support Elisa on her Triabuddy trip, donations of any amount are still needed and welcomed here.
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