I
was diagnosed with type 1 diabetes on August 29, 2007, my 38th
birthday. I had lost 30 pounds over the course of a month and a
half, 3 of them overnight. I knew that morning that something
was wrong with me. So much for my tapeworm jokes.
At
my diagnosis, my nurse was a soft talker. All I got was that
her cat was diabetic and that type 1 is the "good kind" of
diabetes. I stabbed an orange a few times, was handed a small
novel of prescriptions (except the needles, cause, really, who needs
to inject insulin in this day and age?!), and then was told to get an
appointment at the Joslin Diabetes Center. My nurse and doctor
showed me the door with a "good luck" tossed in for good
measure, and I was on my own with a deadly disease.
The
first month of living with type 1 was surreal. I didn't feel
right. Ever. Everything from my head to my toes just felt
off. This was the new normal and I can't say I was embracing
it. While my sugars dropped into an acceptable range, I read
everything I could about type 1. Exercise was mentioned over
and over and over in each book or article. I had always been a
big walker, but my attempts at it as a new type 1 were painful. My
sugar shot over 300 and I felt like garbage every time. I was
giving up on walking very quickly and at a loss of what to replace it
with.
One
afternoon my kids asked to go for a bike ride. A banged up bike came
with our condo purchase, and banged up is being generous. The
chain was leaving rust flakes behind as we rolled out and I vaguely
remember dropping my feet and doing a Fred Flintstone to stop that
thing from catapulting me into traffic. But once I'd gotten
over the shock of it all, the second nature of it came back.
It was just like riding a bike! My blood sugar was around 160
when we left. About 20 mins into our ride (and mind you, this
was no group ride hammer-fest, it was a mom and two little ones
buzzing around the neighborhood) I started to feel wrong. Really
wrong. Sweaty, disoriented, weird. My sugar had dropped
to 60. I couldn't believe it! What a difference it had
been from my walks. I was thrilled (not with the number which
was way too low, but with the idea of riding a bike to help control
my disease) and psyched to have figured out my solution!
Fast
forward to 5 years later, I own no less than 7 bikes (low rider,
commute, road and some in between!) and came very close to sleeping
in my Sidi's when I bought them brand new! I have completed 4
centuries with the JDRF in Death Valley CA, and am heading out for my
5th in October. With the ADA, I've ridden Orlando (with my
brother), Gloucester (with my husband) and RI (with my children). I
ride 12 miles, round trip each day on my commute to work and I do it
year round. Rain or shine, snow or sleet, I'm going to ride.
In my book, there's no such thing as bad weather, just bad
gear! I am always training for Death Valley, but 2013 is going
to find me upping that as I've added several more centuries to my
roster. My husband has hopes to race the Mt Washington race one
day and both of my children covet sweet rides, know who Phil Liggett
is and that the Tour is in July! None of us care for Lance...
My
bike intercepted my life and likely saved it in the process.
Diabetes, especially uncontrolled diabetes, is deadly. My
rides keep my numbers in line, keep my heart healthy and add
enjoyment to my days. Though I've been hit by cars, jumped by
errant teenagers, yelled at and had stuff thrown at me, I still get
on my bike each day. For me it is all about the ride!
