Help Put Triabetes in Lights

Just over a year ago, twelve teammates with type 1 diabetes woke up on a beautiful September morning to compete in Ironman Wisconsin. Our group had diverse backgrounds with respect to athletic experience and diabetes management, but were united in the goal to make it together to the race healthy and ready to give it our best.

Not only did we race for each other and our own personal goals, but also we raced to show our Triabuddies (formerly called "IronKidz") and anyone else that diabetes does not need to keep them from dreaming big. The year of training and racing was captured on film by Ray and Nella of Andiamo Productions, their Emmy Award-winning company based in Madison, Wisconsin. Their lives have been greatly impacted by type 1 diabetes since their daughter was diagnosed in 2004; when contacted by Michelle Alswager about the idea of creating a documentary of "10 athletes with type 1 racing Ironman Wisconsin," they were on board immediately and have, since then, given generously of their time, talents and personal resources.

The premiere date of the documentary is November 21, 2009, the day before the second group of Triabetes athletes competes together in Ironman Arizona. (Anyone interested in attending the premiere in Tempe, AZ, should purchase tickets here--there are limited spots available so please act quickly if you plan to come!) Still, there are post-production costs that must be met to make this a reality, and to help ensure that all who wish to see this are able to do so. To see a sliver of what is to come, see the video trailers here.

Please consider donating to help get this documentary to the finish line. To donate directly, you can just click on the widget on the side of the page, or go to the donation page here. To read more about the fundraising efforts, please go to the "Triabetes in Lights" fundraising page here. All donations are greatly appreciated, especially in this time of tight budgets; if you are able to do so, please consider a generous donation. Also, if you or your business/organization is interested in being listed as a sponsor of the documentary, please contact Peter Nerothin of Insulindependence. All donations are tax-deductible.

I am a little cynical by nature but can say with 100% sincerity that I believe this documentary will change lives. I know, because it has already changed mine.

Race Report: Lotoja 2009

Event: Lotoja (206-mi race from Logan, Utah, to Jackson, Wyoming)
Date: 9/12/2009
Weather: cool, pleasant in the morning; a little warm/hot midday and cooling considerably by the finish; moderate winds during first 2/3 of the ride during open stretches
Teammates present: raced with 4 other friends on our team, the "Part-time Models": Jane Bergeson, Rita Ogden, Erika Feinauer, and Kristan Warnick. Jerseys were donated by Jane's sister from Contender Bicycles. SAG by Contender plus some team friends/family.
Other teams present: various, mostly local teams
Category raced: women cat 4 in a mixed race with women cat 1/2/3
Goal: stay with the pack until at least Preston and finish the race before the 8:15 PM cutoff.

(Note: making it through this whole post is an endurance event, perhaps to reflect the nature of Lotoja...I'm not sure my mom will even get through it this time.)

For 2009, I had the goal of doing mostly cycling--focusing on bike races and longer endurance events--until late summer, when I would transition to full Ironman training. With this in mind, I signed up for Lotoja with several other friends, as soon as I was relatively confident I would be able to get back on the bike. Lotoja is a 206-mile bike race (or ride) from Logan, Utah (~4500'), to Jackson, Wyoming (~6500'), with about 10,000' elevation gain. The event has USAC race as well as fun ride categories; although our intention was to ride together in the fun ride group, we ended up in the women's cat 4 race. I think I was the only one initially happy about that. My training included doing the Death Ride in July, the Santa Cruz Mountain Challenge Century (highly recommended!), and a string of triathlons and bike road races. My longest training ride for Lotoja was the Death Ride--129 miles, but done back in July. I felt strong on the bike leading up to Lotoja, but wondered if my body, especially my back, would hold up for such a long ride.

Compressing 206 miles into a 3-inch picture leaves out a few details.

We were treated with pleasantly cool, clear weather the morning of the race. Making one of the largest teams, the five of us lined up on the front with about 35 other women. Perhaps our matching Contender jerseys got us a little more respect? At precisely 6:58 AM, we were off, winding our way out of Logan and onto some country roads. The pace was manageable and I was comfortable staying toward the front during this mostly flat stretch. After 5-10 miles the pack narrowed and someone managed to organize a rotating paceline with the front 20 or so riders. I found myself moving up to the front in the left line and watched the women in front rotate clockwise in a continuous motion. It was a beautiful sight, moving smoothly and efficiently! I found it tricky to accurately gauge the speed of the line moving back but one of the women gave me a tip of just slowing by about 1/2 to 1 MPH once I moved over. The paceline was moving pretty quickly but I didn't have to work too much. But of course, I found myself in front when we hit one of the few short uphill sections. I didn't want to be the one to slow down the group, so worked hard to keep the pace going. Well, I looked back and there were just a few of us off the front. Duh! Anyway, I felt comfortable in the pack and reflected several times how relaxed I felt. Because we were riding the first 34 miles of a 206-mile race, there was no need to be too assertive, and there were no attacks. Soon enough, we were at the first feedzone in Preston, Idaho, where we met up with our SAG team.

I tested my blood sugar and was pretty horrified to see "435" staring back at me. Twenty minutes before the race, I had been 120 and had eaten 1 gel for a little boost. By the race start I was 177 and felt that, once things got going, I would drop a little. I did not consume any carbs those first 34 miles, but the effort was greatly reduced by being in the pack. This is the part of bike racing that seems so hard to manage--the effort is not necessarily predictable. Or perhaps it is, but I am not good at predicting it. Still, 430 from one gel? I bolused a couple units, drank lots of water, and rejoined the race. It took what seemed like forever to get my BG below 300, and I had to bolus another couple units. I don't like taking boluses >1 unit when I am exercising but needed to be more aggressive here.

There was a little climb out of Preston, with a fabulous descent, and then some flat/rolling sections. The pack either got out of the feedzone before us (likely) or splintered, but we found a few others to ride with. I think any notions of rejoining the pack were abandoned after our bathroom break, though. I was happy to continue with friends and just enjoy the day. Still, we would have to maintain an average pace of 16 MPH to finish in time. From the course description, this seemed doable. A few miles later, I dropped my chain off the small chain ring. I made a big mistake by telling everyone to keep going, because the chain was really jammed and it took me a few minutes to get rolling again. I was then riding alone and fighting the wind a bit; I didn't want to work too hard to get back, but I didn't want to ride alone either. I had another chain drop incident, this time off of my big chain ring. A guy nearby said, "You dropped your chain." "Yeah, I know," and I wondered if I could get it back on without moving it by hand. Inspired by a teammate's recent dropped chain victory at the Giro di San Francisco, I tried to move the chain by shifting to the small chain ring while pedaling very gingerly. It worked! The chain dropped to the small ring and I was able to shift it back up. I got a cheer from the guy nearby and was on my way again. (Thanks, Sarah!)

After a few more miles, I was happy to see Rita drifting back to pick me up. Soon enough, we started our first significant climb of the day: Mink Creek. The grade was not too steep and there were plenty of easier sections throughout this long climb. I still felt pretty fresh and enjoyed the scenery on the way up. I reached the neutral feedzone near the summit and waited for Rita to rejoin. There was a nice descent on the backside and then many flat miles on the approach to Montpelier. It was quite windy on this section and I was really hoping to find our front 3 riders, so pushed it here. At one point, I saw a group ahead and thought I saw our jerseys in there but alas, it was another group. I had been expecting a little more downhill from the elevation map but, really, it just felt flat. I was torn between trying to catch our group and slowing down to ride in with Rita.

Finally, I pulled into Montpelier and saw our crew. My parents had decided to drive up to cheer us on and I was very happy to see them there. After restocking and resting for a few minutes, we were off again; Jane was ahead but we had a group of 4 together again. There was another shorter climb and another great descent. We regrouped for the flattish stretch before the 3rd big climb of the day at Salt River Pass. We were at mile 110 or so and my high blood sugar woes were a thing of the past--I was hovering around 85-100, about 40-50 points lower than I like to be during a race. A BG below 100 can very quickly drop to a seriously low level for me, and I generally feel hypoglycemic at anything less than 110 during intense exercise. I felt pretty bad on this climb and had no motivation to push it for the Queen of the Mountain timed race. This was also the warmest section and very exposed to the sun. Mercifully, the climb was not too long. I have no memory of the ride into Afton, the next feedzone where we met up with our SAG crew.

Star Valley, Wyoming was a section well-suited to pacelining and I hoped we could keep our speed up here. (Here is a youtube clip.) Unfortunately, my ITB near my knee, which has bothered me since Barb's Race, acted up again and I also started feeling the effects of a long day on the saddle! I was feeling okay in the paceline but at one point, I just dropped off. I knew I should have said something but didn't even have the energy. I ate some more food and was grateful that Rita came back to see what was up. Pulling over, I checked my BG, which was around 80. After a short break, I felt a little rejuvenated but just didn't have a lot of energy, and didn't enjoy the pain. Around mile 150, I noticed that my left arm and shoulder were starting to feel tired and I was having a harder time keeping a normal posture. I felt good pulling on the downhill sections, where I could help with the pace, but was not feeling great otherwise.

Pulling into Alpine, I was relieved and dismayed to see that we had 47 miles to go. I knew we had to finish this in about 3 hours, which would have been no problem under other circumstances. This stretch goes up the canyon with spectacular views of the Snake River; with a mild grade and some rolling sections, maintaining 16 MPH average should have been easy. But facing another 3 hours on the bike was daunting. We picked up another rider here and there, and made our way. Thanks to Rita who took the flat/uphill sections, we eventually got through. I continued to do my best to pull on the downhills, which were never as long or steep as one would hope. I saw people rafting down the river, and told myself I needed to come back to visit again someday. It would be a fantastic ride if one started from Alpine!

We stopped at the last aid station around mile 175 and eventually made it to the turnoff from the highway. I was in pretty serious pain from my knee and saddle discomfort and never felt sure of how many miles we had left. After the longest 15 miles ever, we witnessed the gorgeous spectacle of the sunset over the Tetons, and saw a happy sign: "5 km." All races should be measured in kilometers! Those last 5 km fell away and we finished, a few minutes after 8 PM and before the finish line came down at 8:15. It was a relief to be off the bike and I was happy that all five of us had finished. I would not have been able to get through this without Rita especially, my other teammates and our wonderful SAG crew. Our official time was 13:04 for 206 miles.


Crossing the finish line at last!

Positives: I was happy that I felt good the first 110 miles, and that, for the most part, I felt good on the climbs. Feeling comfortable in the pack was a big step for me, and very enjoyable. It sort of turned the 200-miler into a 170-miler (sort of). I was glad I got my BG down, even though it seemed to take several hours. Having great support on the course made this a great experience, and I am proud of our whole team for finishing in time.

Needs improvement: I feel better when my BG's are in the right zone, which they weren't for most of this ride. Instead of overreacting to seeing 120 on my meter, and eating a gel, I should have trusted that my basal rates were in the right place. This was tricky because it seems that high altitude has an effect; but it's one I don't feel confident relying on yet. Also, when I was trying to increase my BG later in the race, I should have made a more drastic reduction of my basal rate, or forced myself to eat more. I am very happy that I finished, but I like to finish strong, which was not the case. I felt like I had the strength to ride better but was held back by recent and longer-term injuries. (Don't worry--I am very grateful that I had the opportunity to discover that 150 miles was the limit for my shoulder and back. But on the other hand, I look forward to the time when my left side catches back up to my right.)

Would I do it again? I think my statement at the end was, "This is a once-in-a-lifetime thing for me." But I think it is likely that my sign-up-for-race-itis will get the better of me on this one again.

This sort of sums up my feelings at the end.

Back to Triathlon

In the past couple weeks, I've done my first triathlon races since Ironman Wisconsin last September. The first was Barb's Race, which is up in Sonoma on the Vineman course; the second was last weekend at the Folsom Olympic Distance Triathlon up at Natoma Lake in Folsom, CA. For both I took a relaxed approach and just wanted to test my body. I would say that they both went well, although I didn't break any records. The highlight of both was probably the bike leg, which I always seem to enjoy the most. My time for Barb's (a half-iron distance) was 6:18 or so, and my time for Folsom was 3:05. For both, and especially Folsom, I had slower swim times than I expected; I think that I really need to warm up more and dare to push myself harder on the swim. Also, I tend to lose focus in the open water and need to work on that. My bike legs for both races felt strong although I had some issues with my tri bike towards the end of Barb's, which prompted me to just go with the road bike for Folsom. So, I probably lost some time there. But I'm fine with that for now. When I got to the run at Barb's, I thought, "Now is when the suffering really begins!" But then I considered why I was out there. Was it to be miserable? Or did I actually enjoy this sport? I knew I wouldn't PR that day and decided to give myself a break and just run at a more comfortable pace. I tried to keep it steady but relaxed and did enjoy the run. For Folsom, though, I decided I would try to keep the pace up for the relatively short 10k distance. It was hot but not unbearable and the hilly course was a good challenge.

For both races, I had high BG issues. In particular, for Folsom, I could not get my BG below 300 for most of the race, despite taking a lot of insulin and not eating anything before and until the last few miles of the bike. I think I ate breakfast (only 25 g carbs, though) too close to the race start (about 90 min) and, although I bolused and had increased my basal rate about 0.2 U/hr higher than normal, I popped up to 350 before the swim. By the end of the swim, with my basal at about 0.3 U/hr higher than normal, I was down to 300 and stayed there despite another bolus. My guess is that the intensity of the shorter race caused a greater adrenalin response? I hadn't done an Olympic distance event since 2006 before Folsom.

For Barb's, I really cranked up my basal rate for the second half of the swim and into the bike. This seemed to work pretty well, since I only went up to the low 200's, vs. higher which has happened frequently in the past. I really need to lay on the insulin in the beginning part of tri's! And, I need to force myself to get up earlier to eat breakfast.

I had a great time visiting with friends at both events and was very pleased to meet 2 of the Northern Cal Triabetes members and another who had come up from Southern Cal to race on Saturday! I am the local team captain and am hoping to get more members in Nor Cal/Tahoe area to do periodic training events and races together. So if you know someone who might be interested in being a part of Triabetes, spread the word. There are local teams forming all across the US/Canada and I'm sure we'd be happy to expand out of that region as well.

Death Ride Report 2009

Event: Death Ride (129 mi, 15,000' climbing and 5 mountain passes near Markleeville, CA)
Date: July 11, 2009
Weather: Clear skies, warm in the morning to hot later, then cold rain showers during the last pass; some winds, moderate at times but mostly head/tail rather than strong side gusts (which I experienced there a few weeks prior)
Other people present: I rode with my friends Shannon and Rita along with a few others.
Personal goal: finish all 5 passes safely

A few weeks prior, I went up to an altitude training weekend with the Velo Girls. [Note--thanks to Kyle T. for sagging that weekend, and for giving me some of the photos posted here!] The first day, we rode an easy 30 miles just to spin the legs out a little. The next day, we tackled Ebbetts Pass, which has a max elevation of 8730', and Pacific Grade, which has a section with a 24% grade. (I'm glad I have a compact.) The next day we climbed Monitor, front and back. For the actual Death Ride, cyclists climb to Monitor Pass, descend to Hwy 395 and then return along the same route. For the 3rd and 4th passes, cyclists climb to Ebbetts Pass, descend to Hermit Valley, and then return. There is a long section with flat to some big rollers and often headwinds to get to the last pass—Carson. This pass is quite long (9-19 miles perhaps, depending on where you consider the start to be) but has a long, mild section partway through.

We stayed in South Lake Tahoe, about 40 minutes from the start, and left early enough to get riding by 5:40 AM. The actual start is at Turtle Rock Park, but people just start from their cars parked along a long stretch of road. We hit a big hill right away and I could feel my lungs burning. I was still recovering from a really bad cold/cough that struck me down earlier that week. I wasn't sure if I would be able to ride, let alone climb at altitude. Initially worried, I decided to wait and see how I felt. We cruised down some fast, open descents and I was happy to note that the winds were not too bad. Descending in my drops felt comfortable, unlike a year ago; this is probably one of the biggest improvements I have made to my riding this year. (It helps that the front end of my new bike fits me a lot better.)

Pass 1: Monitor Pass, front side. This climb is about 8 miles long, with a steady grade. Halfway up, there is a brief and welcome respite. I felt strong although I was having some blood sugar issues. Since then, I have learned that many people have high blood sugar problems at high altitude. Perhaps high altitude causes insulin resistance or some delivery problem? We got to the top and someone slapped the first sticker on my number as proof that I was there. Descending down the backside of Monitor was fun. Although some of the turns are tight, most of it is manageable at a good clip; and with the wide, open views, I had the sense that I might take flight at any moment! In fact, when I was there before, a motorcyclist somehow lost control on one of the corners and flew off over the steep edge. So this contributed to an extra dose of caution on my part. Going down, we realized that we must have started later that most people, because the mass of riders was heading up. We got down the 10-mile descent safely, and took off our arm warmers. It was getting hot. They slapped on our sticker at the bottom. Nowhere to go but up...

Pass 2: Monitor Pass, back side. This climb feels steeper and is very exposed. After an easy first mile or so, the climb has a very steady grade until about 2-3 miles from the top. I tucked in behind a Webcor guy who was fine with me latching on. This helped me maintain a steadier pace. I caught up with my friend Shannon halfway up at one of the water stops and we rode the rest of the way up together. The winds were not bad near the top, and I latched on to a group of guys cruising by. They were going pretty fast and I held on for a while and one guy seemed surprised. Fun... We finally made it to the top of Monitor for the second time and stopped briefly. My blood sugar, which had been hovering around 300 (very high), was coming down a bit to 250. I had to eat something anyway, though—I was very hungry by this point! The descent down Monitor was fun; I felt comfortable especially since the winds were not too bad. There was a pretty strong headwind at one point but that wasn’t an issue for this grade of descent.

Pass 3: Ebbetts Pass, front side. Two down, three to go. From my training weekend, I felt that this was the hardest climb. It has a lot of variation in grade, and I think the average is only something like 6%; but, some of it is very steep, close to 20%, and there is a section of sustained climbing at 12% (or so I've read) at the end. The actual real climb (you know it when you see the road go straight up) is about 6 miles. Before getting there, some Davis guys came by and Shannon and I tucked in behind until the road got a lot steeper and one of them had some mechanical issue with his wheel. During the climb, I just plugged away but had some moments where I just felt really, really tired. At one point, I just pulled over to the side for a break. I checked my blood and it had dropped from 250 to 100 in about 40 minutes. Yikes! No wonder. (Ha, it's easy to blame it all on the blood sugar.) I ate a couple gels to keep me from totally bottoming out and just plugged along. I think it took me 55 minutes to go 5 miles during this climb. It was a really hard section for me, but I told myself all I had to do was just keep going and not worry about how fast or slow I was. Did I mention this was a tough stretch? It was more exposed and hot during this stretch. The views are spectacular, though, and there is a sparkling mountain lake partway up. Stopping for a brief dip in the water did cross my mind. But onward... Finally, finally, I made it to the top and got my 3rd sticker. A volunteer grabbed my bike and I went for the food. I hadn't eaten as much in the morning because of the high blood sugar, so took the opportunity to chow down. As a special bonus, some kids were handing out Red Vines as I left the aid station. I nearly bit the dust grabbing a couple vines (totally worth it). Descending the backside was a little technical, mostly because of all the people. Because there were more people climbing than descending, and because the road is narrow with no centerline, people had a tendency to squeeze out the descending lane. Also, since people have various comfort levels descending, there would be times when I needed to pass but had to wait a while to do so. I erred on the side of caution here and just tried to be patient. Eventually I got around the main logjam and cruised on down to Hermit Valley. I met up with my friend Derek, who had joined Shannon, but told him I was just going to turn around right away.

Watch out for these!

Pass 4: Ebbetts Pass, back side. I couldn't remember how many miles this climb was, but did know it had felt sort of endless when I went up during training. But I also remembered it being a little easier. Partway up, I ran into my friend Courtney, who was sporting her Team Type 1 jersey. She just finished helping crew for their RAAM team this year, and so it was good to chat with her briefly. I was hot climbing and not feeling great, and I wished I knew how many miles we had to go. Also, for the first time that day, I thought I should check and see how I was doing with respect to the cut-off times. It was about 11:50 when I checked, and I had climbed about a mile I think. The cutoff at the top was for 2 PM. Huh. I was a little concerned that I was cutting it tight; for some reason I just couldn't figure out how far I had to go. I had to stop at some point to rest in the shade. I wasn't sure what was going on but I just didn't feel so great. I think I was just feeling the effects of the climbing, the altitude, having a cold, and crappy blood sugars. I thought maybe I needed more insulin but didn't dare take any. Low blood sugar is usually much worse for me than being a little high. I rode up the last bit with Shannon (who had easily caught up with me); we were guessing we had 2 miles to go when we turned the corner and saw the top! We were there--hallelujah!! And we made the cutoff by about 30 minutes I think, so it wasn't too horrible. I was happy to have only one more climb to go. Somehow, I thought the last one would be easier. The descent down this side of Ebbetts is probably the most technical on the ride. Very few people were climbing, so it was much easier to pass slower riders. I tried to be cognizant of my technique and enjoyed this stretch.

LUNCH: of course, lunch gets its own section. We ate lunch at the bottom. As we were getting ready to go, someone lost control of his bike somehow, rode into the bushes and flipped over. He popped up after saying, "I'm fine!" but the medical people were on him. I guess he was okay after all--just some scrapes and bruises. I think he had some technical issue because the road was clear. Anyway...

Interlude: There is a long stretch before Carson, with some headwinds. The beginning part was more or less flat and I had revived a little after our lunch break. I was able to jam it into high gear and Shannon and some other guy fell in behind. I love this type of terrain and felt great despite the headwind. After a longish pull, the other guy offered to take over. And just in time! The winds really picked up and he had a much harder job. I should have mentioned that the winds weren't so bad during my pull, but I decided to let the guy be a gentleman, after all. Some other people stuck on to our group and we cruised past Markleeville. At this point, it was very hot and exposed, and I just fell apart on the climbs. After the last long climb here, we passed by the cars. I was going to toss my arm warmers but passed the car going downhill and decided I'd rather lug them with me than turn around. I still had about 40 miles to go at this point, after already going somewhere around 90. Forty sounded like a long way to go, but I knew about half of that would be downhill. We hit the aid station before the start of Carson Pass and I let them cool me off with the hose. I just felt bad at this point but just wanted to get this thing done. I tried some Coke and ate some other food and we eventually got going.

Pass 5: Carson Pass. I think this climb is something like 19 miles, but it's not all uphill. I wish I could say that my legs came alive or that I got my second wind. I was just struggling through it, though. I had a few good moments here and there but mostly I was just hot and tired. There was also a moderate headwind in this section, if I remember correctly. A few of my friends who had completed 4 passes were waiting for Shannon and me and cheered me on as I passed. Thanks, guys! We hit the last aid station before the top of Carson and I tried to refuel one last time. I had noticed a few raindrops with surprise. "I wonder what's going on up there," a rider said, pointing to the top of Carson Pass. Dark clouds were covering the tops of the mountains there. Ugh. Please, no rain.

We rode a couple miles before the rain really started in earnest. It still wasn't too cold, but it was soaking. I hoped it would be a passing storm. It kept raining, though, and we decided to pull over to put on our arm warmers. This is when I learned 2 valuable lessons: 1, don't dump your arm warmers when riding in the mountains and 2, don't ride your bike into a soft, sandy shoulder. I pulled over and immediately sank in the sand/gravel. My right foot was unclipped but of course I fell to the left. As I went down I saw some bikes and felt my head hit against something. Ugh!!! We had been pacelining with a couple guys, one French guy and another Google jersey guy. They were trying to lift my bike off of me but I was still clipped in. I had hit my head on Google guy’s foot/pedal and it hurt. Fortunately he managed to get around me okay. Oh man, was I going to make it this far and then have to stop? I got up and saw that my seat post had twisted; but surprisingly I felt no pain at all, which seemed sort of strange to me. Jim (the Google guy) was so kind as to fix my seat post but then I turned and saw my handlebars. The left shifter had bent in. At first I thought the whole handlebar was bent ala my Cannondale from my Feb 1 bike crash. This is when I totally lost it. I mean, I was standing there, bawling uncontrollably on the side of the road. Being as tired as I was, it was too much to handle. But French guy saved the day. "See you can just pull it back." He fixed it and things seemed to work okay. I was surprised a little by my reaction but I guess I have been holding a lot of emotions in lately and being tired, I had no will to resist. Once I got going I felt a lot better, and stronger (for a while) and thought, "I guess I just needed a little cry."

The rain stopped and we ticked off our last 9 miles. I just told myself to keep going, not to worry about my pace too much. The road curves and I somehow told myself that the finish must be right there, even though I could see the road kept going higher (“Maybe this pass doesn’t end at the top!”). But I didn't see any cyclists up on that stretch. "Oh wait, there's one," I realized with great disappointment! Ahhh! Finally, with cars whizzing by on this stretch, the long march came to an end, and I was at the top. I got my 5th sticker, but didn't have the energy to sign the poster at the top. As someone offered me an ice cream bar, I said "No thanks," but was thinking, "Hell no!" A cloud had come over the pass again and it was cold and starting to rain. I started shivering and felt uncomfortably cold. Shannon scored some plastic bags, which would be our impromptu jackets for the descent. I needed to warm up a little, though. Poor Shannon, who had already waited for me to finish, kindly waited some more in the cold as I covered myself in a jacket and blanket from the emergency radio operators. The radio woman thought I was there for SAG, but I really, really wanted to just finish the rest of the ride. I knew that it would be warmer once I got off the top. But I was shaking and didn't want to do anything stupid. SAG wouldn't be leaving for a while, though, and I just felt like I needed to get off the top of that mountain. Once the rain let up again, Shannon and I headed down.

Taken after the ride and after I started to take off my bag-jacket,
this photo sort of sums up my feelings at the top of Carson.

The first few miles were absolutely miserable. I was freezing, and I usually don't mind the cold too much. The plastic bag helped, and I don't think I would have made it without my arm warmers. I tried to keep my lips warm; for some reason, this seemed important! I was still shivering and kept the pace conservative and looked forward to any sections where I actually needed to pedal. After getting down several miles, I could feel the air warm up and I stopped shaking. There were also a few flatter sections, which helped me to warm up. Thank goodness. The descent is really fantastic, and I think this is where I hit 46 MPH, my max for the day (maybe ever). No 50's for me... I just didn't feel like it was safe. Before too long, we got to the last turn before our cars. "Oh please let my car not be too far or over any climbs," I hoped. Soon enough, we were there, finished. I was totally exhausted, but so happy to have done it.

Overall, I was happy that I finished, but wish I could say that I felt better doing it. But I hadn't been able to train as much as planned, and the bad cold really knocked me down the week leading up to it. So, I got my pin and I'll get the jersey. And I think I am stronger because of the experience.

A few lessons learned: I learned even more about the value of pacelining, and felt much more confident of my bike handling on the descents than during the training weekend. (This had something to do with the winds, though.) I also learned that having a mental strategy for something like this is important. The climbs plus headwinds at times can become really discouraging, especially when tired and/or not eating/drinking enough.

A morning at Lake Tahoe (and a huge hamburger)
washed away all the pain.

Hypoglycemia or Coyote?

Stress, getting sick and not being able to train as much in the past couple weeks have taken a toll on my blood sugars and my mood. Today, I increased my basals by 30% and have still been running high. (This is also despite spending the whole day Saturday on the bike during the 125-mile Death Ride near Lake Tahoe.) So I squeezed in a longer ride after work today in one of the cycling hot spots of the Bay Area: Portola Valley. The climbs here are gradual and most consider this a basically "flat" ride (although almost no sections of it are truly flat). I didn't worry about dropping low since I actually had to increase my basal rate to get my blood sugars down while climbing 7-9% grades last weekend.

About an hour into the ride, I stopped at one of the large parks in the area to hit the bathroom. I set my bike by a woman reading a book and her border collie (mix?), who started whining when I approached them. I asked the woman if the dog was friendly, and was assured she was. When I reached out to pat the dog's head, she turned and walked away. As I came out of the bathroom, the dog started whining again. The woman was perplexed by her dog's behavior and I asked whether she was acting strangely. She agreed that this was very unusual behavior for her dog. I just wondered, could this dog be sensing that I have low blood sugar? Am I even low? I didn't think I was, but after checking in at 65, I had to wonder. I mentioned this to the woman, that some dogs can sense low blood sugar. We both agreed that the dog didn't seem too concerned about me in particular, but was more interested in getting the woman's attention. Anyway, it was probably wishful thinking on my part that this creature would take notice of my blood sugar; but it was an interesting coincidence, regardless.

Or, perhaps there was just a coyote nearby...

Picture from http://advocacy.britannica.com/blog/advocacy/2007/05/coyotes-the-wild-becomes-urban/

Pescadero Classic Road Race Report

My original plan for 2009 was to focus on bike racing from January through August and increase triathlon training gradually in June, and then more so as I got closer to racing with Triabetes at Ironman Arizona in November. In January, I joined a group of women cyclists called the Early Bird Women's Developmental Cycling Team--a team for women in their first year of USCF racing--in hopes of fully pursuing this goal. Well, plans changed on Feb 1 with my accident. While I have improved vastly, the rehab and conditioning is far from over. Sometimes I wonder if I will ever fully recover. So, it was with some anxiety that I signed up for the Pescadero Classic Road Race on June 13. I continued with the Early Bird Women, although I was pretty tepid about ever racing a bike again in those first several weeks in February. Here is my report for my first official USA Cycling race event of 2009 that I completed--about 4 months later than originally expected.

Name of race: Pescadero Classic Road Race
Date: June 13, 2009
Category raced: Cat 4 in a Cat 3-4 field combined with 35+ 3-4 field
Weather: rainy before start, cloudy/damp but not cold, westerly light/mod winds
Field size: 45?
Early Birds present: Stephanie D., Beate H., myself
Other teams: Poggio, Metromint, Velogirls, Roaring Mouse, Dolce Vita, ...
Individual goals: feel in control of my safety, experience a road race, work hard, try working with others if there is an opportunity
Team goals: support each other

Short Story: I finished the race in one piece and am happy for the experience. I wasn't expecting to be fast but a problem with my front derailleur didn't help the situation.

Very Long Story (mostly appreciated by family members & best for reading when you are stuck in line somewhere. You've been warned):

I pre-rode this course last weekend to give me some confidence on the reputed technical aspects, and felt comfortable that the descents etc. were nothing I did not routinely encounter. Part of the appeal of this course for me was that, with the hills, it was likely that the riders would get strung out, and I would not feel stressed riding in a pack. Because of my current fitness level, I expected to be dropped from the main pack at the first climb.

After a belt in my car (with only 52k miles) inexplicably broke Friday evening (what's up, Mazda?), I thought I was doomed! I had been feeling pretty anxious all day and it just pushed me over the edge. Fine, I would just go for a ride and race another day. But thanks to my teammate for stepping in at the last moment, I was able to get a ride to the start early Saturday morning. Driving down the coast, it was rainy, foggy and generally not looking so great for a race. Once we arrived and warmed up, I discovered it was actually not that cold and was happy to see that at least the rain had let up.

There was a neutral promenade from the high school to the race start. I thought, "Promenade, easy pace," but realized I would have to pick it up a little to avoid getting dropped before the race even started. We turned the corner on Stage Rd and I guess there was some signal that the race was under way. The first few miles were flat and I was able to stay with the pack. I enjoyed it and felt comfortable. I noticed most people around me were not in their drops. There were a few other riders in the back with me and there was one gal behind. I was working pretty hard at times to stay with the pack, especially with the early sprint prime; it would have been easier if I tucked in a little closer. Once the road started to climb, I was dropped along with a friend of mine, who was doing her first road race. I gave her a quick how-to on getting back to the pack but it sort of fell apart and we were both on our own.

I knew there was one gal behind me and thought, "Well maybe I won't come in dead last." Or maybe we could work together to try and get back to the pack, just for the fun of it at least. I was coming down the first descent and shifting to my small chain ring in prep for the steeper climb ahead, when my cranks locked up. I looked down and the chain was jammed somehow in the front derailleur cage. Somehow, I loosened the chain and got in my small chain ring. "Hmm. I hope that's solved." I was a little concerned I would be stuck in my small chain ring, but was able to shift back up on the next descent. Turning onto Highway 84, though, I realized I had a problem. I could not shift to my small chain ring. This would be okay on 84, which is a gradual uphill climb, but not on Haskins Hill. I was hoping there would be a mechanic at the feed zone. I had no idea why my derailleur wouldn't shift down.

Being stuck in my big chain ring on 84 was probably not a bad thing, because it forced me to keep up a faster pace. There was a lovely tail wind for most of it and I felt strong and happy. Turning the corner onto Pescadero Rd., I ground my way up the initial hill and caught the attention of a friend of mine who was supporting his team, Dolce Vita. "Chris! My bike won't go into the small chain ring!" He tried to adjust the derailleur but it was stubborn about working properly. Finally, he got it to work okay, and I took off. I rounded the corner for the climb up Haskins but to my dismay, I was still stuck. I pulled over to see if I could just put the chain in place; at this moment, one of the men's large peletons came charging up the hill and I stepped off the road. They were taking every inch of the road (right-side, anyway) so I was sort of glad I hadn't been riding at the time. The cables were still moving the derailleur so I was able to drop the chain in place, and continued up Haskins. The climb is through redwoods, and was shady, moist and cool. I was a little flustered from the chain thing and lost my focus. I think I forgot I was racing for a little while there.

Once on the descent, the roads were mostly dry, but I still took a somewhat cautious approach. Some of the turns are tight but most are not too bad; but I knew that another group of guys would probably be passing me and wanted to be sure to hold my line tight on the right side of the road. Sure enough, I heard someone call out "Left side!" followed by 4 guys in a paceline just screaming by me, insanely fast through the turns. It was a little nerve-wracking as a larger group came by. I just hoped they were being careful. I felt like I was a little too cautious on the descent due to passing racers; once I was through the first few miles, though, I picked it up, effort-wise. The rest of Pescadero Rd was a sort of rolling descent with a bit of a headwind. It seemed like it should have been easy all the way to Pescadero but it took some effort to keep the pace up.

view from a climb on Stage Road

Taking the corner onto Stage Road for the second lap, I got some sympathy cheers but joked with a couple people that I was off the front, of course! I was trying to figure out if the pro/1/2's were still on the course, and calculate where they might pass me. When I got to the first climb I stopped to move my chain to the small ring. This was annoying more than time-consuming. Who wants to stop during a race? At the next climb, I devised a new method to move my chain--I just unclipped and pushed it over slightly. It seemed to work but then I noticed some rattling. Was my whole derailleur going to fall apart? I got off and inspected and discovered that the cage was broken on the right side--snapped through completely. So it could move my chain to the right, but not to the left. I was impossibly behind at this point and trying to remember that I just came out here to gain the experience. I continued up 84 and made the 2nd and final turn onto Pescadero Rd.

I thought I would try my kick-the-chain technique but this time the chain fell off instead. Argh! I got off and tried to put the chain on 4-5 times until fixing it. My hands were covered in smudgy grease and I just started to lose it emotionally. Getting myself in a position to do this race was a mental challenge and it just seemed like a disaster to me at that moment. But wait! I recognized those exaggerated emotions as a sign of low blood sugar! I may have been frustrated but, really, was it so bad? I popped a chocolate GU and after 10 minutes asked myself, "Are you still losing it?" When the answer was, "No," then I figured I may have just had a bout of frustration + low blood sugar, which can really wreck havoc on the emotions!

I didn't want to bother with another small-big-small chain ring transition so just rode the flat part of Pescadero Rd in the small chain ring, cruising along at a sad 14-15 mph. Alas, I was finally at Haskins again. Another 1.6 miles and I would be done! Well except for the 10 miles back to the cars. As I was climbing, the pro/1/2 men came by, which was fun to watch. Shortly after, the main pro/1/2 women pack came on by, followed by a couple small groups and solo riders, who were encouraging me on. The 1k mile and 500m signs were both missing from the first lap, which I didn't realize until I was about 300m from the finish. Hallelujah. I crossed the line at the top, and was directed to keep on going back to Pescadero, where Beate & Stephanie were probably wondering if I had come to another terrible fate.

Diabetes management (Diabetes primer: BG = blood glucose, or blood sugar. Bolus = insulin dose taken by pump. Basal = background insulin level delivered by insulin pump 24/7. Basically insulin causes BG to drop & glucose to go into the cells (muscle/fat); carbs cause BG to rise, and exercise can cause BG to rise or fall depending on intensity, duration & insulin levels. Usually exercise causes a drop in BG without adjustments in insulin & food, which is why I carry so much extra sugar. BG in non-diabetic is from about approx. 70 (fasting) to approx. 120 (after a meal)):

5:30 AM: BG 80, breakfast, PureFit + small banana, calculated bolus to bring BG to 160, 1.1 U insulin given 1U:17g insulin:carb ratio, 70mg/dL:1U correction factor.
7:23 AM: BG 302, 0.6 U, trying not to overreact; I didn't want too much insulin on board right before a really hard race effort.
8:11 AM: BG 289; hungry, ate 25 g carbs
8:36 AM: BG 345; somehow was hoping to get away with 25 g carbs & no insulin?? 40 min before race start, took another 0.5 U
8:55 AM: BG 359
9:09 AM: BG 372, 0.5 U. Yuck, not a good place to be.
9:15 AM: race start

For the first ~70 minutes, I drank water only. Once I started to feel hungry and could feel the BG coming down, I started eating a GU every 45 minutes and alternating Vitalyte and water. I finished with a BG of 169. Basal rate started at 0.55 and went to 0.45 a couple hours in. I was really sloppy with my hydration and only drank 1 1/2 bottles. I forgot how race anticipation can really drive the blood sugar up before a race. Usually I have to increase my morning basal rates race day but hadn't really established a routine for road races yet.

What went right: I made it to the race, thanks to a lot of help. I was able to ride, even if briefly, with the pack; I could feel what it is like to be in that situation again. I figured out how to deal with my crappy mechanical situation so that I could at least finish. I dealt with bad pre-race BGs and felt okay BG-wise for most of the race. I took a few moments here and there to remind myself, "I do this because I enjoy it." Pre-riding the course was very helpful, especially considering my mechanical issues.

What would be good for next time : Think through BG management better. Continue to work on my fitness/rehab goals so that at some point in the future, I can stay with more Cat 4's. Go to more group training events where I can practice some racing skills and get more comfortable with that.

Swim Low Psychology

Due to a rare thunderstorm, I had to skip my morning outside swim today, and decided I would drop in on the evening Master's team. My blood sugar was 133 and rising after eating a GU; by the time I got in the pool, I was up to 165. "Great!" I thought, "I should be good to go for an hour." I decided to leave my meter in the locker because of my rising BG and because, well, I just didn't want to bring it. Also, if my blood sugar is low enough during a swim to get out and check, chances are I will be done for the day anyway. I usually can't tell if I'm low while swimming until I'm really low (somewhere around 40), and I don't like swimming until I am back up to a normal level (whereas I might be able to walk for awhile if I get low during a run). I can usually tell I'm low only by watching my times start to slow on the pace clock, or else I will just have a sudden thought, "I'm low. Um, I'm really low."

Well, I guess it's clear where this story is headed. I did the warm-up and some gal joined my lane who should have been 3 lanes over (in the faster, and only, direction). But anyway, I proceeded with the workout for about 35 minutes, and was feeling some pain where I broke my collarbone as well as pain in a my right shoulder that has resurfaced from last year to join in the injury party. I started thinking, "I hate this pain!" and feeling really sad, like it might even come to tears. It did occur to me that my response was a little over-the-top. I mean, there is some pain there but it usually doesn't make me want to cry in the middle of a swim. I tried to swim a couple more laps when I suddenly had the feeling, "Oh no, can I make it to the wall?" I got out and ate a chocolate GU, but still wasn't convinced that I was low. Maybe I didn't eat enough during the day? Or maybe I have been overdoing it this week? I tried to do a few more laps, and paused for about 5 minutes in the water. I thought, "Come on GU, do your thing," and then, "What would I recommend someone else to do?" I was wishing I had my meter handy so I could just hop out and settle the issue right away. If the BG were normal, I would feel better, mentally, and dare to finish the workout. I had another GU on deck but this was already a 2-GU workout and I was hoping to not make it to 3. I do not like to abandon a workout over low blood sugar, but decided I would give diabetes the win on this one. "Fine! I'll get out." After showering, I got to my locker and tested, twenty minutes after eating the GU: 74. Although I'm not usually relieved to see a low BG, I was happy that the reason I felt so horrible was easy to explain, rather than some sign of an impending downward spiral into over-training and weariness.

Frostbite in San Francisco

After getting home from a surprisingly successful run this morning, I decided I would be pro-active and ice my hip. I am supposed to be doing this regularly to treat some hip pain that has arisen secondary to my bike accident. But, it is tough for me to ice it at work, since our fridge/freezer can't keep things cold enough, and I keep forgetting to do it at home. But today I would do it! I was wearing some tri shorts and thought, "Hey how convenient! I can just stick this ice pack right inside the shorts and it will stay nice & close!" I thought about putting something in between the pack and my skin, but only spotted thick towels. The other gel pack I use generally doesn't get very cold so a thick towel would be too much. I didn't really look too hard. "Hey! Ouch! It's stinging!" I thought, but remembered back many years to prior PT sessions with ice, where it stung until it was numb. I put some oatmeal in the microwave and was getting stuff ready for work and didn't notice that the stinging had stopped.

Getting up to get my oatmeal, I looked down and noticed frost on the outside of my shorts. Uh-oh. I pulled out the gel pack and to my horror, my skin was white, completely numb and completely frozen! I mean, it was stiff. It grosses me out just to think about it. "Oh no! This is bad!!" I grabbed a wash cloth and put some warm water on it and applied it to the skin. The cloth totally cooled and I repeated the process until the skin started to soften. It was still whitish but started to pinken up, pretty painfully I might add.

Frostbite in my mind is forever associated with people who climb Mt. Everest and lose toes, fingers, limbs... (In 9th grade a mountain climber came to talk with us and told us how she had lost some toes to frostbite. I think it was supposed to be an inspirational talk but I pretty much just remember the losing toes part of it.) Will I have to have my whole hip amputated?! Granted I could use a little reduction here and there but not this way. Seriously, I wasn't that worried but I wasn't sure how to treat it. Once it started warming up, the skin became really hot to the touch, and swollen. Fortunately there were no blisters and after some time, the swelling diminished, leaving red welts about the size of the gel pack. After a call to the advice nurse, who admitted to not getting many frostbite cases in San Francisco, I stopped by the injury clinic at my HMO and the awesome nurse practitioner there eased my worries. I should treat it as a bad sunburn, she said. Aloe vera, pain killers if necessary, and expect it to itch and then peel in a few days. Swimming is okay (phew) and I should even apply cool compresses. Oh and, please use a towel around the gel pack in the future. I felt like I was 16 again when I was in a bad car accident the one time in years that I hadn't been wearing a seat belt!

Sometimes I feel like I insist on learning things the hard way.

Vicious (and viscous) flesh-freezing gel pack,
more dangerous than a winter in Minneapolis

A Word of Thanks

Triabetes is lucky to have some fantastic sponsors for 2009; the full list can also be seen at the Triabetes website. Their steadfast support of Triabetes has allowed us to continue to grow upon last year's success with a new group of Ironman athletes(-in-training), and to expand the team to include all triathletes with diabetes. In fact, this year, Triabetes was recognized by USAT, the governing body of triathlon, as an official triathlon team. Membership has been opened to athletes of all levels--from beginners to the very experienced--and distances (i.e., you don't have to do an Ironman to join Triabetes!) Join here! I'm the team captain for Northern California and Tahoe regions and would particularly love to have some local teammates.

Some of the sponsors that I have the most experience with, and can whole-heartedly support, are Diabetes Training Camp, PureFit Nutrition Bars, Polar, RoadID, Vitalyte, Thorlo Socks, TriSports, SweetSpot and Spibelt, and I very much look forward to becoming more familiar with the others--Kestrel bikes, Giro, Fluid, and diaTribe. Another sponsor is the TriFest in Tucson, which I had to miss due to my bike accident. Individuals at these companies have really reached out to Triabetes, often on a personal level. Of course a huge thank-you is extended to LifeScan OneTouch for their title sponsorship in 2008, which made it possible to continue with the documentary.

Wildflower v.6

Lake San Antonio, CA

Earlier this month marked the 6th year I have made the trek down to Lake San Antonio for the infamous Wildflower Triathlon. The first year, I was a spectator, and swore to myself, as I inched along my chair to stay out of the 100+ degree heat, that I would never do the Long Course (half-ironman distance). That was the first triathlon I had ever seen and I really had no intention of signing up for one myself at that point. I thought that there was no sport I could ever love besides running. And even though I did enjoy getting out on my mountain bike from time to time, the swimming was a deal-breaker. At the age of 7 or 8, when I was taking swimming lessons at the local high school pool, I was doing backstroke when my instructor called out, "That's terrible!" Assuming he was addressing me, I was so afraid that I hid out in the locker room for the next several lessons and never really got back into it.

So it was a huge step for me in many ways to arrive again at Wildflower in 2005 to race in the Olympic-distance event. I had taken swimming lessons, bought a bike, and gotten used to clip-in pedals. The swim was mayhem as usual, the bike felt insanely hilly, and the run up the last hill brought me to tears; but a day or so later, I couldn't wait to sign up for my next event. Four years since then, here is my race report of my 6th Wildflower race event.

***

Last-minute, I found a team that needed a cyclist for the annual Wildflower Long Course Triathlon. The course is a very hilly one, starting out with big rollers for the first 15-18 miles, then long mild grades for another 10-15 miles, then some easy stuff before the really big climbs begin. It is a beautiful place to ride, with little traffic, and lots of wildflowers out this year. Everyone camps, and as we pulled into camp, I saw a 4-foot snake slithering towards someone's tent. I made sure to keep mine zipped up!

The weather was very rainy on Friday, but cleared up by Saturday morning, which was a huge relief. My start was at 10:20 AM, after our relay team swimmer finished. There were a couple of relay cyclists out there on trainers--an unusual scene at a triathlon--getting ready for the big legs of their relays. These guys were out to win. For our team and others that I noticed, there was a jovial mood--we were pretty happy to just worry about one event for a change. Anyway, the course starts out with a couple of easy miles before the first big climb, which is significant. Since the relays start last, there were few people on the course by the time I started. My goal was to see people ahead of me and pick them off one by one. (Although I kept telling myself, "I am not racing!") At one point a gal tried to pass and it got my competitive juices flowing and I took off. (Triathlon does not allow drafting, for good reason, since it is a serious safety hazard unless you are trained. If you are passed completely, you have to drop back 4 bike lengths.) I was careful about drinking and keeping my nutrition going, and making sure my blood sugar was in a good zone. I descended in the drops and am feeling a lot more comfortable doing this. Actually, now I feel much more glued to the road in the drops vs. holding the hoods.

There was a nice tailwind on the flatter section of the ride, and I tried to take advantage of this bonus. (Usually there is a headwind in this section!) I felt strong and was so so so so happy to be out there. The worst hill of the day up Naciamento Lake Rd. ("Nasty Grade") was okay and I just plugged along, happy to have my compact gearing. The descent is a long sweeping curve and I felt solid but was shocked when a truck+trailer blew by me from the left about 2 feet away. But no harm done. It was another moment I was glad I was in my drops.

I was able to feel good through the finish & my stamina has improved somewhat. My collarbone felt good and my lower back held up. The next couple days I was achy in my lower back and arms, but felt more or less recovered after a few days. My time was about 30 minutes slower than last year, which I am trying to not worry about too much, all considered.

On the diabetes front, things went well. I took my full bolus, as well as full symlin dose, about 3 1/2 hours before I started. My BGs were in the upper 100's before the start, when I got hungry and munched on half of a granola bar. I ate it a bit too early and so had to correct with 0.5 U and I upped my basal a little for a half-hour. My BG's were a bit on the high side to begin with, but came down nicely. I had one reading in the 80's but nothing too serious. Basals were as follows
9:00 AM 0.5
10:00 AM 0.65
(10:15 AM race start)
10:30 AM 0.5
12:45 PM 0.35
1:00 PM 0.22
2:15 PM 0.32 (race over).
I didn't bolus during the ride and ate about 150 calories per hour, or one GU + some gatorade about every hour. I didn't have a swim before or a run afterward, so didn't feel the need to eat a ton.

***

It was great to be there with Triabetes team captain Sean McKendry, who successfully completed his first triathlon in the Long Course event. Just to add some perspective, many people consider this race to be one of the hardest triathlons out there and say that, in effort, it could be considered a 2/3-ironman distance event. It is tough. Way to go, Sean! And he ended it with a rock-star BG of 130.

Sean's out there swimming somewhere