I was a mile into my regular morning walk when the beeps started.
The beeps were coming from my Dexcom app on my phone and they were alerting me to a low blood sugar. Rather than correcting the low, though, or even opening up the app to dismiss the alarm, I just kept walking.
Outwalk the low blood sugar, Molly.
I really couldn’t understand why my blood sugar was low in the first place considering that I had no food in my system or insulin on board (other than my standard basal rate). Fasting workouts tend to virtually guarantee stable blood sugars for me, which is wonderful because otherwise exercise tends to make me crash. But what was different about this morning? I was utterly befuddled. My Dexcom alarm chimed a second time.
Outwalk the low blood sugar, Molly.
Even more confusing was my complete and utter determination to not treat the low blood sugar until I got home. I had glucose tablets on me, so it’s not like it was a matter of lacking a treatment. Rather, I think I was more focused on maintaining my fasted state for as long as possible, since I almost always do an exercise circuit (weight lifting, cardio training, HIIT intervals, etc.) when I return home from my morning walks. My low alarm rang a third time, just as loudly as it had before.
Outwalk the low blood sugar. You’re only 15 minutes from home.
I was deaf to my Dexcom’s persistent alarms for the next 15 minutes as I somewhat floundered down the road home, letting my impatient puppy tug me along. It’s almost like she knew that I was low and was trying to hurry me home, and I was 100% okay with that because my brain was starting to get fuzzy.
Outwalk the low blood sugar…
At long last, nearly half an hour after my first low alarm sounded, I was crossing the threshold of my front door and fishing my phone from my bag. I tapped through my notifications and cleared the low alert, noting that I was 66 mg/dL and definitely needed to eat something before continuing on with my morning routine. I sighed, set my sight on the kitchen (where a low blood sugar food stash awaited me), and resigned myself to the fact that I couldn’t outwalk the low blood sugar this time.
By that I mean that I pretend that I like getting up early in the mornings, but truth be told…I hate it. Oh how I long for the days that I could sleep in as late as I wanted and shun my very few responsibilities…
Even though I clearly don’t love waking up early, there is one benefit to it that truly lasts all day long. And that is getting my workouts done within the first hour or so of my day.
Listen, I’m not a fitness freak. I don’t have a ripped bod. More often than not, I’m working out so I can eat and drink the things that I like without feeling as terrible about it (only light sarcasm used in that previous sentence). But I do like exercising and try to do so every single day because, well, it’s good for me and definitely helps me to produce better blood sugars.
Exercising is a thousand times harder than it needs to be, though, when my blood sugar crashes halfway through a routine – which happened a lot more than I wanted it to when I was working out in the afternoons or evenings.
Fed up with the lows, I changed up my routine and that’s when I discovered the beauty of fasting morning workouts.
I learned that if I work out soon after I wake up in the morning and wait until after I’m done to eat breakfast, then lows almost never happen. It’s like magic. I’m able to get through my exercise routine (which is usually a half hour circuit of some sort) without having to modify my basal rates whatsoever. Since I don’t have any insulin on board (because I haven’t eaten any food yet), I’m only working out with my basal rate running in the background, so there’s a much lower chance that my blood sugar will really fluctuate when I’m exercising. Of course, mornings that I wake up with a low or a high blood sugar are a little more challenging, seeing as I either have to bring it back up to a good level for working out or get some insulin pumping in my system, but I wake up most mornings with my blood sugar in a range that makes me feel comfortable working out in.
All the diabetes business aside, I gotta say…my other favorite part of working out first thing is that it’s over with and done for the day. Ba-da bing, ba-da boom. It’s not looming over my head for the remainder of the day, and that’s a really nice feeling.
It seems like a new fitness trend is “going viral” every week: between aerial silks, SoulCycle, and at-home fitness mirrors (in which a real trainer appears in your mirror and you get to watch yourself while they talk you through the workout – whoa FUTURISTIC right?), there is a plethora of ways to get physical that don’t involve standard, boring weights or treadmills.
I recently had the opportunity to try one of the most random, and possibly cutest, fitness craze…goat yoga. Yep. Yoga, but with goats.
It’s exactly what it sounds like. You move through a series of yoga poses, but there just happens to be adorable baby goats roaming around the class. They aren’t shy about making their presence known, either. When they aren’t bleating or searching for goat treats under your yoga mat, they’re actually JUMPING ON TOP OF YOU. It doesn’t matter if you’re in a tabletop pose (see my photo, above), downward dog, child’s pose…they’ll find a way to climb on you and turn you into their personal jungle gym.
It was a little disconcerting at first, and it was damn difficult to focus on flowing through yoga poses because you didn’t know if or when a goat would hop on your back or accidentally brush up against you with its horns.
And it was virtually IMPOSSIBLE when my blood sugar went low halfway through the class.
I knew that I was starting to feel off after I completed a short series of bird-dog crunches. I felt oddly exhausted after doing five on each side, so I went to go check my CGM data on my phone when I realized I didn’t have access to any, because I’d just inserted a new sensor that morning and the warm-up period wouldn’t be complete until the end of the goat yoga class.
Great timing on that one, Molly.
I decided to give it a few minutes before I took any corrective measures. So I just sat there, watching people struggle to get bendy with goats running amok. It was really pretty funny, but my sense of humor was shot, thanks to my low blood sugar.
I’m a little embarrassed to admit that the goat factor also prevented me from correcting my low right away, but…well, those things were germy. They’re farm animals, of course they will be messy and smelly. But they were literally peeing and pooping on our yoga mats, and precariously closely to our clothes/bodies. Forget feeling like I needed to sanitize my mat when the class was over – I felt like I needed to power wash MYSELF, at max intensity, just so I could feel totally clean again. So the prospect of checking my blood sugar in the middle of everything seemed absolutely unsanitary and virtually impossible.
But…like, I had to suck it up. After all, I didn’t want to do that thing that goats do, which is faint. Except they do it in a semi-cute way, and because they’re born with a condition that causes muscles to seize up when they’re startled. And there was no way I was about to faint due to a stinkin’ low blood sugar in front of a bunch of strangers and goats.
So I forced myself to navigate to the clean, protected patch of land that my backpack was perched on, dodging poop balls on the way over, and immediately grabbed my hand sanitizer so I could cleanse myself before reaching into my backpack and consuming a small box of yogurt-covered raisins. I still felt gross about it, but I did the right thing and took care of myself.
And I’m happy to report that by the end of the class, my blood sugar was on an upswing and not one goat had peed or pooed directly on me. Sweet success!
“How are you today, ma’am?” The man behind the Dunkin’ Donuts counter smiled and looked at me expectantly, as I started back at him blankly.
I wasn’t sure how to answer. My mental state wasn’t great, that was for sure. I’d just come from a visit to a walk-in clinic, where I’d had X-rays of my foot taken to see whether or not it was fractured.
The previous 24 hours had been a bit of a whirlwind. I’d worked and gone to my first-ever kickboxing class, which was an awesome experience. I’d had dinner with my partner and started playing video games soon after as a way to unwind after the long day. That’s when pain in my foot flared up, suddenly and significantly.
Could I have injured it in the kickboxing class, without even knowing it? Was I overdoing it on exercising, in general? How and why did the pain just start up like that? Almost immediately, I plopped myself down onto the couch with an ice pack and extra cushions, hoping that I could stop the pain as quickly as it started.
No such luck. I went to bed early that night, but the pain was so severe that sleep was virtually impossible. I tossed and turned for hours, wondering what the hell was going on and coming up with a plan to get it checked out A.S.A.P.
That’s how I found myself at a walk-in clinic, a little over 12 hours after I first felt the pain. I was evaluated by a nurse practitioner who told me that “the likelihood of a fracture was low” (thank goodness) and that it was “probably tendinitis.” I was given instructions to rest, ice, and elevate my foot for the weekend, and take non-steroidal anti-inflammatory drugs (otherwise known as NSAIDs, like Ibuprofen or Aspirin) as needed.
That meant hours and hours of being sedentary.
That meant no exercise of any kind – I even had to keep walking at a minimum.
That meant my spirits were crushed.
I was glad that it wasn’t worse, and proud of myself for not waiting to seek medical treatment. But that didn’t mean I was thrilled with the outcome. Basically, I had to take the wait-and-see approach. Time will tell how long the pain lasts, and I can’t stand not knowing. I also can’t stand not being able to be active. Daily exercise is a key element to maintaining good blood sugars. Sitting around idle doesn’t do my diabetes any favors, but it’s not like I had any other choice.
I left the clinic, trying to process this information. This certainly wasn’t the way I wanted to kick off the long Memorial Day weekend. It definitely could have gotten off on a better foot. (Okay, okay, I’ll stop with the puns.) I found myself at a nearby Dunkin’ Donuts minutes later. I hobbled in, hoping that an iced coffee might lift my spirits somewhat.
I blinked, bringing myself back into the moment, and smiled wryly at the Dunkin’ cashier. “I’m okay,” I said to him. It wasn’t just a response to his question, it was also a reassurance to myself. I’m okay and I will be okay. I won’t let this get me down.
Normally, if you asked me if I would willingly go into a 105 degrees Fahrenheit room for 90 minutes for a workout, I’d say ohh HELL nawwww before you had the chance to finish asking your question.
I’m not someone who has a passion for exercising. I tolerate it. I try to do it daily for two very important reasons: 1) It keeps me in shape and 2) it helps me manage my blood sugars better. Otherwise, there’s very little about exercise that I actually enjoy. I’m not a fan of feeling out-of-breath for long periods of time. I have a love-hate relationship with the post-workout soreness that floods my body after a particularly intense session. And I definitely cannot stand sweating – on just about any given day, I’d rather be freezing cold and wearing layers of clothing than dripping in sweat.
All that said, though, I willingly participated in a fitness class called Bikram yoga…which is also known as hot yoga because you’re in a temperature-controlled room heated exactly to 105 degrees for the duration of the workout. For 90 minutes, you slowly move through 26 poses, and that’s that.
I wasn’t worried about the latter; it was the former that had me sweating (both literally and figuratively). I wondered whether I’d be able to tolerate the heat for a full hour and a half. I also had concerns about my diabetes devices – would I be sweating so much that they would fall off? Would they be able to stay safely in the room with me, or would the heat be too extreme for them? And how would my body and blood sugars respond to the hot yoga, anyways?
I knew the only way to get answers to my questions was to show up for class and find out for myself.
And that’s exactly what I did. I went to a morning class with my stomach empty and my backpack full of diabetes supplies. My blood sugars tend to respond better to exercise when I don’t have any food in my system or insulin on board, so I made it a point to wait to eat my breakfast after yoga instead of before. But I still wasn’t entirely sure if or how my blood sugar might react to a brand new kind of workout, so I wanted to be armed with several different low snacks. I felt fairly confident about its stability, though, as I headed into the class sitting pretty at 110 mg/dL.
In addition to extra diabetes supplies, I also thought to bring with me some water that I’d filled and frozen the night before the class so I could stay hydrated throughout it with water that was sure to be extra refreshing in the heat.
Even though I had all this stuff with me, I chose to leave most of it in a cubby outside the studio, save for my CGM receiver, a tube of glucose tablets, and my water bottle. I didn’t want to take any chances with my cell phone, PDM, or glucometer and expose them to the heat – I have firsthand experience with an overheated cell phone, and while it does eventually cool back down its own, overheating my devices is not something I’d actively seek to do. I was taking a bit of a risk with the CGM receiver, but since I have the Dexcom app on my cell phone, it’s not like I’d be at a huge disadvantage if something were to happen to my receiver.
So with my gear in hand, I stepped foot into the yoga studio…and immediately started sweating. Yes, that quickly! It was a heavy, stifling, and moist heat – the exact kind that I hate the most. I started to question whether I had the endurance to even sit in this heat for 90 minutes, let alone move seamlessly through yoga poses in it. In the minutes before the class began, I sipped water slowly and told myself that above everything else, I needed to listen to my body throughout the class. I started to feel better as I reassured myself that it would be perfectly acceptable to walk out should I start to feel light-headed, low, queasy, or anything else abnormal.
Fortunately, though, an exit plan wasn’t needed as I made it through the full class! That’s not to say it wasn’t challenging or extremely sweaty – seriously, my body was so covered in sweat that it looked like I’d just come out of a swimming pool – but I proved to myself that I could do it. And the best part was that my blood sugar behaved beautifully: As a reminder, it was 110 mg/dL at 8:30 A.M. Class started at 9 and lasted until 10:30 A.M. I was home by 11 and when I checked my blood sugar there, I was at 118 mg/dL. I couldn’t have asked for better pre-, mid-, and post-workout blood sugar levels.
Was it scary to try this new, moderately intense exercise? Yes. Was I concerned about my diabetes before, during, and after the class? Yes. But was it all worth it? I’d say yes. I overcame my fears and was met by blood sugar success, making hot yoga a diabetes win in my book.
Judging by the title of this blog post, you might assume that I’m rewriting yet another Christmas song to make it about diabetes. Well, I’m here to tell you that is false – no more Christmas carol transformations for me! (At least, not until Christmas 2019.)
Rather, this post is all about an odd, kind of silly thing that happened to my mother and I when we were out on a walk with Clarence, my parents’ dog.
We both heard a high-pitched beeping coming from…somewhere.
We exchanged glances and my mom asked me if I heard that sound. I nodded, and we both sighed as we fished through our pockets for our PDMs. That’s because we both just knew that one of us was experiencing a pod failure, and that the pressing of a couple buttons would reveal who was about to become extremely annoyed.
But both of our PDMs indicated that our pods were working just fine. Bemused, she told me that sometimes her PDM won’t recognize the pod failure right away, and it will be the pod itself that emits the beep-of-dread. So I started lifting up layers of my heavy winter clothing to see if my pod was making the sound, while she briefly stopped walking to listen closer to her pod.
After our careful scrutiny, we determined that…
…the beeping sound was actually someone using a weed whacker or some other piece of lawn-care equipment in the distance. Oops.
We continued our walk, chuckling a bit about it while Clarence pranced along in between us. It was a relief to know that we wouldn’t have to scramble home so one of us could take out insulin and a fresh pod to apply as soon as possible.
What’s the point of sharing this little vignette? To show that diabetes is such a significant part of our lives, always one of our first thoughts, even in the most mundane cases. It also illustrates how volatile diabetes can be – just like that, a random beep can change the course of the day and determine your next series of actions.
Just some food for thought, all triggered by a (literally) false alarm.
I recently ran in my first-ever 5K race. In the weeks leading up to the race, I experienced a variety of emotions – particularly self-doubt – that made me question whether I could really do it. Would my diabetes cooperate the morning of the race? Should I eat a big breakfast before running, or go into the race fasting? How would I handle correcting a low blood sugar while running? What about a high blood sugar? Was I even competent enough to run?
All of my diabetes anxieties aside, I’ve always hated running. HATED it. I played field hockey every fall when I was in high school, and we were required to run a timed mile before the start of each season. I dreaded this mile because I usually wound up finishing the mile last, or close to last – my asthmatic lungs and negative attitude helped ensure that I would give up running halfway through and resort to walking a sluggish, defeated pace.
So like I explained in a recent blog post, making the decision to go through with this 5K wasn’t easy. But I wanted to take on the challenge and prove something to myself.
I did it!
My puppy greeted me after I crossed the finish line.
AND I DID IT!!! I’m pleased to say that I completed the race on a gorgeously sunny Saturday morning along with hundreds of other runners. I was totally proud of myself for accomplishing this goal, especially since I had less than a month to train for it. Plus, I learned a few things about myself after participating in the race:
I should have more faith in my ability to manage my diabetes. I spent so much time dwelling on the “what ifs” (a bad habit of mine) regarding what my diabetes might do during the race that my stomach was doing somersaults as I approached the start line. But as soon as I turned my music up and started running with everyone else, my doubts vanished. And better yet, I was absolutely fine throughout the race. I didn’t eat anything beforehand and went into it with a blood sugar of 142, and I stayed pretty steady for most of the 3.1 miles (I did start to spike soon after crossing the finish line, but I’m certain that was because of the adrenaline). I simply did what I’d been doing during my past month of training, and my experimentation with fasting vs. non-fasting paid off.
My blood sugar stayed steady throughout the race.
I started to spike after crossing the finish line. I blame it on the adrenaline rush.
I’m a lot more determined than I realized. I’ll admit that there were a few points throughout the race when I wanted to give up. I was breathing hard and my legs were starting to ache, but not once did I stop running and slow down to a walk. I pushed myself to keep going, even though I didn’t want to, and my determination helped me achieve my personal best running time.
I’m ready to train for future races. This experience awakened something in me that wants more challenges. I’m still not in love with running, but I think I am a fan of trying things out of my comfort zone. I want to continue to get faster and stronger so I can try tougher races and physical tests. It’s almost like it’s an outlet for me to tell my T1D that it can’t stop me – that I’m stronger than it no matter how hard it tries to knock me down.
At the start of the year, I told myself, this is your year. You’re going to be in the best shape of your life and finally run a 5K. I’ve never particularly enjoyed running, which is why the challenge of a 5K was more alluring than a different fitness goal. I felt that doing something I practically dreaded would make accomplishing it that much more gratifying.
But just a few short weeks into 2018, I broke a bone in my arm. I was crushed, because the kinds of physical activity I could do suddenly became severely limited. Instead of taking the injury in stride, I spent a long length of time moping over it. My exercise levels decreased and I stopped caring (for a short while, anyways) about my lean and mean pursuits. All I wanted was to heal, and heal swiftly.
Fortunately, I’ve fully recovered from the fracture, and so have my spirits. A renewed vigor took hold of me in April, and I spent many weekday mornings waking up early to complete a variety of workouts. I started to feel stronger and more confident in my athletic ability. So in the second week of May, just a few days after my 25th birthday, I decided the time was right to register for my first 5K.
And so I did, and I’ve devoted time training for it since then. It’s far from easy, but I must admit that each time I successfully complete a run, the feeling of accomplishment and pride that courses through my body makes it all worth it. It’s doubly wonderfully when I’m able to achieve in-range blood sugars before, during, and after each run.
An example of my blood sugar during a run…
…and some of the metrics from the same run.
I don’t have a convoluted strategy for stabilizing my blood sugar while running; rather, it seems to work best for me if I simply complete a fasting workout first thing in the morning. This eliminates a few variables affecting my blood sugar, including carbs consumed during a meal or insulin on board. I’ve found that I don’t even need to run a temporary basal or suspend any insulin – my body seems to do well if I’m running my normal basal rate. But with diabetes being a fickle fiend, I’m always prepared for a potential high or low blood sugar to occur on a run. In other words, portable glucose and my PDM are my constant running companions.
Race day is just a few short weeks away, and I can honestly say that I’m looking forward to it. Sure, I’m a little anxious, but I’m choosing to focus on the fact that I’m finally taking on something that tests me – and my diabetes – in all the right ways. I should be proud of that alone, but I must say, I’ll be over the moon when I get to cross that finish line.