January's Cake Chart of Delight

As some of you (well, bits of me) remember, last year my lovely diabetes meter produced a pie chart of blood glucose readings.  Except I don't like pies, so I decided to call it a cake chart.  Green is good.  Red is bad in the short term but OK in the long term.  Yellow is bad.  Eye-fuzzily, kidney-buggeringly, leg-droppingoffly bad. 

December's cake chart was a bit shameful, mainly due to the amount of cake consumed over that period.  Now, new year means new year's resolutions.  One of them was to write this blog (so far so good).  Another was to think about doing a triathlon (so far so ... um, well I haven't actually failed.  Yet).  The third was to have less than 20% of my cake in the yellow.  Woohoo!  Have just celebrated with cake.  Ooops.

Smug is a four letter word

Last week I reported on the lack of progress on any triathlon training.
This week I have cycled to work every day.  And I didn't work from home once.  That is absolutely true.
There are two hills between my new home and work.  That is absolutely true too.

Here's the small print.
I live almost at the top of one of the hills.  It is possible to avoid the other hill if you go around it.  I did.  So, basically, I cycled downhill to work every day last week.
I didn't say anything about cycling back from work.  There's a reason for that.

But it's not just about avoiding cycling up hills.  It's also about avoiding running.  And swimming.

To be fair, I haven't completely avoided either.  I signed up for a 'yoga for runners' course which started on Monday.  It's run by my favourite yoga teacher, Fiona.  Yes, I've done enough yoga to actually have a favourite yoga teacher.  And remember her name.  I signed up for it as fast as I could (without breaking into a sweat), on the grounds that it involved thinking, talking and preparing for running, whilst mainly sitting down and not actually bothering with any of that running business.

There were six of us in the class, and Fiona asked each of us in turn about our running experience.  I was last to go.  The first woman said that she runs half-marathons.  Respect.  The second woman said that she is going for her first marathon after running 5k, 10k and half marathons.  Respect.  The bloke next to her said that he was doing the same marathon to support her.  She looked a bit puzzled, like she had only just met him, but I might have confused that look with wind (which happens a lot in yoga).  Respect, coupled with confusion and a bit of annoyance.  The bloke next to him said that he has done six marathons.  Respect x six.  Finally the bloke next to me (who looked older than my dad) said that he did three and a quarter marathons.  Normally I would have been impressed, but he followed the six marathon man, so naturally I felt a bit disappointed.  I said "Aw poor you, what happened on the last one?  Injury?'.  He looked at me strangely and said "No, I'm talking TIME".  That put me in my place.  Which was next.  I said "Oh, I'm just hoping to do an Olympic triathlon this year", wanting to just get on with the whole sitting and umming that Fiona does (one of the reasons why she is my favourite yoga teacher is because she doesn't make me try and put my foot in my ear, but just "feel the experience" and "go with the flow").  However, to my complete astonishment, everyone was astonished.  Really genuinely astonished.  I really wasn't sure whether it was because, for them, the thought of swimming and cycling as well as running is just too much to bear.  Or that they thought that the slightly overweight one in running gear a size too small had bitten off more than she could chew.  And from where they were sitting, it looked like I could chew a lot. 

I still don't know, and I'm too embarassed to ask.  However, I whooped their asses at sitting and umming.  Smug.

As for swimming.  Well, you may remember that I tried to go swimming last week but the pool was closed.  I went to another pool today, and, to my disappointment, it was open.  I had no choice but to actually swim.  That's a four letter word too. 

I'm not very good at mental maths.  Or remembering stuff.  I can normally count to about a hundred without getting confused.  I can also swim a fair distance.  But I can't do both at the same time, which means I'm never entirely sure how far I actually swim or how long it takes me.  So I was delighed when I discovered a wonderful contraption called a "poolmate", which is basically a watch that counts your laps for you.  I'm not sure whether I was more delighted about the idea of a counting watch or the fact that there are enough people in the world who have the same problem that it was felt necessary to make a counting watch. 

I swam 61 lengths.  Smug.  Slightly confused though, because I started and ended at the same point.  And normally that means an even number of lengths.  I guess my watch isn't as smart as I thought it was.

Still, it's smarter than I am.

Stay tuned for next week's episode, when I'm outsmarted by a pair of running shoes.

I'm trying........ yes, very

I'm conscious that I haven't actually mentioned anything about my actual training yet.
There's a good reason for this.  There hasn't been any.

I know, I was all inspired after meeting Steve.  And since then I've had not one, not two, but three people offering to go running with me along the seafront.  Really, what else could a girl possibly ask for?  Well, apart from a body double with arse cheeks like Kylie who will do all the hard work for me.  And a lifetime's supply of chocolate.

Then I stood on some scales.  I'm not going to do any jokes about taking off all my clothes, cutting my hair & sawing off one leg before having a big poo and then finally standing on them.  Because it's all true. Apart from the leg-sawing thing, which, bearing in mind I'm trying to do a triathlon would be like biting off my nose to spite my face.  But slightly more effective for weight loss. Luckily the answer the scales gave me was in kilowotsits and I can only think in pounds, stone and tons.  But my baggy jeans now look like skinny jeans stuffed full of sausages, so it is TIME.  To DO SOMETHING.

And to be fair, I have done a little.  This week alone I've been for a run.  Although it was because I was trying to get away from someone as quickly as possible, and it was only down the road.  I've also been for a bike ride.  Up a hill.  But that was only to get to the pub.  But as I had accidentally managed both a run and a cycle without even really trying, well, actually when specifically avoiding such things, I thought I'd finish the week by going for a swim and meaning it.  You don't accidentally swim to go to the pub, or to get away from anyone.  No, it involves planning and a change of clothes.  So I planned.  I got a change of clothes. I headed down to my local swimming pool.  Which was shut.  Oh well, I tried.

I'm going to have a half-hearted try at cycling to and from work this week.  Which would have been easy last week as I only lived 15 minutes walk away along a straight and level road.  But now I've only gone and moved without realising it, and someone has inconsiderately put two nasty hills between me and where I work.  I guess I could work from home....

I wasn't making it up.....

Inspiration

I read about this bloke called Steve on the internet the other day.  I probably read a lot about lots of people called Steve on the internet, but this particular Steve caught my attention for three reasons.....
1) he is going to carry the Olympic torch through Brighton.
2) he's in his forties and was diagnosed with Type 1 Diabetes about 6 years ago
3) since being diagnosed he started to train for triathlons.  And then only went and did a blinking Ironman.  Yes, that is the one that involves swimming for six weeks, cycling until the next leap year, and then running non-stop until it's time to collect your pension.  Oh and whilst he did that, he also swam the channel with friends, apparently his only reason being "I can't afford the ferry". 

People like that are either really inspirational, or extremely irritating.

Before I go any further, I'd just like to point out that I am not a stalker.  Well, I've never been convicted.  Yet. 

I did a little bit of research and discovered that he's a member of a triathlon club in some place beginning with H around here. I can't remember exactly which place beginning with H, which would probably mean that I'd be a bad stalker if I ever decided to take it up as a hobby.  Anyway, I e-mailed the club and gushed about diabetes, triathlons, inspiration and all that.  And I got an e-mail back.  It didn't say "please leave us alone or we will call the police".  In fact it was a lovely e-mail from the man himself.  He said he was more than happy to meet up for a coffee and compare notes and stuff.

So that's what we did on Tuesday.  He's a really lovely man.  We talked about all sorts of things triathlon, all sorts of things diabetes and all sorts of things triathlon & diabetes.  For hours.  It was truly inspirational.  So much so that I really thought about going to do some training at some point this week.  But luckily we had to finish a business plan and so had no time.  Phew, that was close. 

I told Steve about my potential thought about doing an Olympic distance triathlon this year (note the other day it was a resolution, now it's been plutoed to a thought).  He didn't laugh at me.  In fact he came up with a bunch of potential triathlons around the area, most of which he had already done, some of them backwards whilst juggling the weekly shopping. 

There's a lovely one in Steyning.  But it's in early May and I won't be ready by then.
There's one later on in August in Worthing. But it's too far away.
There's one in December, but it's in the USA. But that's way too expensive.

Oh well.

Wait.

There's one in September.  In Brighton.  Just down the road.  It's 1,000m swim, 36k cycle, 8k run.  As close as dammit to an Olympic distance triathlon in as close as dammit a location as possible.  But.  But....... um...... Aha, there IS a but!  The website actually says "if you are unlikely to finish within 3 hours, please abandon the race as competitors and marshals want to go home".  I was expecting to take about 3 weeks.

1000m is 40 lengths of a pool.  I can do that in about 30 minutes.  I cycle at about 18km/h, so it would take about 2 hours to do the bike bit.  I average 6 minutes per km when running, but I can only do that for 5kms.  I've never done 8k in one go.  And certainly not after a swim and a bike ride.  So, with a bit of luck and a following wind, I could, at a push (hopefully with lots of pushes), finish within 3 hours.  If I cheated. 

Or if I really tried really hard, maybe, just maybe I could do it without having to call a cab or hire a body double. 

http://www.theargus.co.uk/news/9411948.Joy_of_diabetic_chosen_to_carry_Olympic_torch_in_Brighton/

Joy of diabetic chosen to carry Olympic torch in Brighton

4:10pm Friday 9th December 2011 in NewsBy Siobhan Ryan

A diabetic who turned his life around after being diagnosed with the condition has spoken of his pride at being chosen to become an Olympic torchbearer.

Steve McMenamin will be carrying the Olympic flame through the streets of Brighton next summer.

He will be one of up to 8,000 inspirational people from around the UK to take part in the 70-day torch relay ahead of the 2012 London games.

Mr McMenamin, 44, of College Road, Hurstpierpoint, got the news yesterday (December 8), along with other lucky Sussex nominees.  

He said: “This is absolutely incredible. I am so excited and I still can’t quite believe it.”

Mr McMenamin was diagnosed with Type 1 diabetes in 2005 and needs daily insulin injections.

He said: “Before then, I was a drinker and a smoker*** and eating all the wrong things.

“Having diabetes made me totally change my life and adopt a healthier lifestyle.

“I started training to take part in triathlons and a couple of years ago I was part of a group who swam the English Channel. I couldn't even swim before I was diagnosed.”

He is now a race director for the Mid Sussex Triathlon and has also taken part in the gruelling Zurich Iron Man event.

He said: “I spend a lot of time talking to other people and encouraging them to train and adopt a healthy lifestyle.Mr McMenamin, who works for Domestic and General in Brighton and is married to Kay, 40, was nominated as a torchbearer by a friend’s wife.

“I try to help them enjoy life and believe they can do anything they want. I can’t wait for next year. This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.”

*** He doesn't and has never smoked.  However every newspaper has the right to make at least one fundamental error per article, intentional or otherwise.

Poker. She'll love it.

Woke up yesterday with a funny feeling. I couldn't quite work out what it was.  Checked my pulse.  75.  Checked my blood sugar.  5.6.  Checked my bottom. Still there.  Turns out that I'm not feeling ill.  It's been such a long time, I'd forgotten what it was like to feel, dare I say, normal.

So my excuse for not doing any triathlon training today is......

Well, actually, it's almost half-decent.   I won a poker tournament*.   It took a very long time.  Longer in fact than an Olympic distance triathlon.  And if you ask me, just as tiring.  Actually, there are quite a lot of ways that poker and triathlons are similar.  For example, poker is a mix of three key ingredients, luck, skill and psychology.  And.... OK, that's all I can think of right now, but that's because I'm exhausted from my triathlon, oops I mean poker session. 

My excuse for tomorrow?  Pub quiz.




* http://brighton.rendezvouscasino.com/casino-game-details/poker.  I won the £30 bounty freezeout.  Whatever that means.

Yesterday was probably the first day of the rest of my life...

... but I missed it because I was still ill, stuck in bed, drifting between consciousness and sleep, with Jane Austen repeats in the background.

I can now confirm that I'm even more confused than I was the other day.  They ALL feature women, with sisters, at least some of whom behave inappropriately.  The main character always thinks she has it all worked out, then realise she's got it all wrong.  There's normally a hysterical woman of a certain age who has to take to her bed and you can guarantee a wedding or three.

It's my life.  Over and over again.  Sometimes I'm the main character.  Sometimes I'm the naughty sister.  Sometimes I've taken to my bed.  There's always a wedding.

I think being ill, semi conscious and vaguely aware of bits of my life being played in front of me makes me very susceptible to advertising.  The other day I saw the Sun ad with Chariots of Fire and Nigel Havers and semi-pledged to train for an Olympic distance triathlon on the strength of that 30 seconds alone.

Yesterday they showed ads for all sorts of things.  Over and over again.  I didn't stand a chance.  But at least I managed to get a quick quid loan which I used to spend on some vacuum storage devices that you can fit a whole house in (even though I live in a flat and I don't know how to use the hoovery thing in the corner).  I even thought about suing everyone who had caused me injury in the last three years, but realised I was the only person responsible for any of it. 

Of course I'm kidding.  I'm not that gullible.  All I did was sponsor a dog called Sidney, who I'm not allowed to visit as apparently it will make him nervous.  Oh and a few hours later I sponsored another dog called Phil, who I am allowed to see from a distance by prior appointment.  And when I checked back later, they were both still available.  Oh, it's just like being married.

I haven't forgotten that I've sort of semi-committed to the possiblity of trying for an Olympic distance triathlon sometime this year.  I've just had a quick google of some simple training plans.  I think I need another lie down.  Or another dog.

PS I've decided - my favourite Jane Austern character is Colin Darcy.  He could happen upon me anytime.

Pride, Sensibility & Triathlons

I know I was going to tell you all about my attempt at triathlons the other day, but you might have noticed that I've been a bit distracted by a bit of asthma and havoc.  I had a bit of a lie down today, and whilst doing so I made the mistake of accidentally putting the telly on. As a result I have just lost most of the day to a run of Jane Austen repeats.  I know I'm not the most cultured of people in the world, and I must confess to never having actually read any of her books, so I am way out of my depth already.  But that never stops me from having a thought or ten. 

But I'm a bit confused.  I can never remember which one is which.  Just like the Bond films.  But slightly more old clothes and talk.  And a lot less action.  Who is the one with lots of sisters who meets a man who she loves but doesn't know it or does know it but won't say?  Who thinks she knows it all, but turns out that she doesn't?  And which one features a wedding at the end?

Anyway, I'm still wheezing away like a wheezy thing, but slightly less wheezy than I was yesterday.  The last thing I feel like doing is going for a swim, cycle or run.  But I won't always feel like that.  No, at some point I will stop wheezing away like a wheezy thing.  I still won't want to get up off the sofa (especially if there's any Jane Austen on the telly), but I won't have a decent excuse.

I still have the telly on. And I've just seen that Sun Ad with Nigel Havers and Chariots of Fire.  I feel all inspired.  Almost enough to make another resolution I'll struggle to keep.  What about aiming for an Olympic distance triathlon?  And in time for this year, the over-hyped-up year of the London Olympics? 
<googles Olympic triathlon distances>
Oooh, it's 1.5km swim, then a 40km cycle, then a 10km run.  Doesn't sound too bad. 
<googles km to miles conversion calculator>
Double you tee eff interrobang*.
That's a MILE swim, then almost a MARATHON on the bike, then TWICE the distance I've ever run in my life. 

Maybe if I started next month I could finish by the end of the year? 

Oh, it has to be the same day.  One after the other.  Cripes.

Is it possible?

I've had thoughts like this before - I've seen curvy women with medals around their necks and smug looks on their face.  And I've wanted to be like them.  Which brings me nicely on to what happened when I made a resolution to train for a triathlon a few New Years ago....

I signed up for something called a ‘Try-A-Tri’ (for ‘ladies’ only), which gave me five months to train.  It involved a 250m swim, followed by a 10k cycle, and a 2.5k run.  As you know I still think in miles and feet so had no idea what I'd signed up for.  Oh, and I couldn't put my face in the water, let alone swim.  Should have thought of that before I paid the race entry fee.

Anyway, I’m happy to report that in May that year, I was the slightly cuddly woman in running gear a size too small, with a medal around my neck. I would have had a smug look on my face, but I was too tired for that.  But I did it.  And didn't even get my face wet.

I looked around for other triathlons of the same distance, but everything else was at least twice the length.  So I signed up for the same one a year later.  I finished with a smug look on my face.  In 16th position.  Get me.  (And yes, I can confirm, more than 16 people entered)

But can I possibly go for an Olympic distance triathlon?  That's quite a leap (not to mention swim, cycle & run).  I'm old.  And slow.  And asthmatic.  And diabetic.  And I can't even tear myself away from the telly. What hope have I got? 

Time, and maybe this blog, will tell.

The annoyingly inspiring Sun ad recreating the Chariots of Fire bit where they run along the beach.
This time it features an enormous ice cream cone doubling as an Olympic torch. That's probably the most inspiring bit. http://www.thesun.co.uk/sol/homepage/features/4030427/.html

* I saw that phrase (with added interrobang) on Facebook the other day, and was looking for an opportunity to use it myself.  I just wished it wasn't in committing myself to an Olympic distance triathlon.

Can tomorrow be the first day of the rest of my life?

You know that scientifically proven law that applies in all sorts of situations - eg if you drop buttered toast it always lands on its paws? (Or in my case slices of overpriced cardboard wtth unnamed vegetable extract - oh how I miss gluten and dairy).  Well. it happened to me yesterday.  Which although was technically a day of my life, I have specifically decided not to number it.

Avid readers of this blog (ie me) will have remembered me writing, just the other day....

"About 5 years ago, two things happened that changed my life. 
The first one was a purple inhaler called Seretide.  Suddenly breathing wasn't a problem anymore"

I'm going to laugh ironically.  Well, I would, except it would hurt. 

Guess who got rushed into hospital by ambulance yesterday with bad asthma?  Go on, bet you can't.  Well, bearing in mind I'm the only person actually reading this blog, of course I know the answer, but as I can't laugh ironically, I'm going to write ironically instead. 

Yesterday of course was New Years Eve.  But time was on my side - it was only midday and so the place was only half-full of drunks, most of which still had all their limbs.  The staff almost looked bored.   So when they had a 'real' emergency on their hands, they were all very happy to get stuck in.  I was poked, prodded, nebulised, ECG'd, given a cup of tea and a sandwich, the works (no I just looked at it, whined, and then gave it to CS*).  I was asked all sorts of intimate questions.  Over and over. All the medical staff (and the tea boy) were very surprised that I had been diagnosed as a Type 1 Diabetic so recently and, "at YOUR age".  I was nebulised again, and then sent away with a bunch of steroids.  I noticed that most doctors and nurses were putting on what appeared to be bullet-proof gowns & visors, so felt very lucky to be getting away before it all kicked off.

You may have picked up from the this blog, and the above description that I have asthma AND diabetes.  I'm pretty damn sure that everyone at hospital was aware of this ("Oh you can't breathe?  And you were diagnosed with Type 1 Diabetes when you were OLD?"). 

Anyway, when I got home, I started feeling very ill, was sick, faint, and felt sorry for Wayne Rooney.  Here's a meaningless blood glucose graph that proves it.

Basically green is good, orange is odd (long story) and yellow is bad.  The more yellow it is, the worse it is, and the worse you feel, and the more likely it is that at some point your leg will drop off, but there's a good chance that you won't actually see it because your eyes won't work properly either.  Oh and in the short term it can make you feel really ill, sick, faint, and actually like Manchester United.  It's that bad.

I knew that it was plain stupid going back to casualty at just past midnight on New Years Eve (or is it New Years Day?).  But a thought occurred to me.  "I wonder what will happen if I google the words 'Asthma' and 'Diabetes' at the same time?"  Yes, kids, it turns out that Asthma and Diabetes do not get along.  Steroids can induce severe hyperglycaemia in Diabetics. 

I wonder why no-one mentioned this at the Hospital.  It's not like they didn't know. 

Anyway, it turns out that some people with Diabetes and Asthma are lovely and wonderful and they have shared their stories about what to do when they have to take steroids.  I listened to what they said, followed some of their advice, and as you can see from the meaningless graph, I'm now back in the green.  And off to watch Manchester CITY spank Sunderland.  Come on you blues!

Tomorrow is another day.


* More about CS later