(Great song.)

Now that we're back from our trip, it's time to reintroduce myself to the "swing of things."  While we were away, Chris and I were up late, eating fancy food at fancy restaurants (including desserts and carb-fantastic sweet potato french fries and gelato ... things we wouldn't normally eat but we devoured in spades - and in our mouths - all week long during the festival holy run on sentence), going to bed at 3:30 in the morning, battling the frigging hills, and waking up the next day only to do it again.  For nine days running.

It was exhausting. 

But now we are home.  And in the comfort of my own schedule, I can wake up early, eat a breakfast that doesn't include sausage (not the cat), get enough sleep at night, put my feet up as necessary, and get some exercise in.

Oh, the exercise part.  How you plague me.

I used to be awesome at getting to the gym.  Not to toot my own horn - more to toot Chris's, actually - but his dedication to the gym helped me keep my proverbial (and literal) butt in gear.  It was just part of our routine, and it was easy.  And the benefits were tremendous:  good health, pants that fit, and that feeling of "ooh, I'm sort of strongish."

But now?  As the baby belly grows and my sense of balance leaves the building for the next 75 days?  Exercise is hard.  Wicked hard.

Since we've been home, I've been back at the gym with Chris, only the workouts I'm doing now feel completely lazy-ass, compared to the ones I was doing before.  No weights (thank you, retinopathy), no jumping rope (thank you, bouncy belly), and no increased heart rate over 130.  

So I walk.  For like 40 minutes on the treadmill, without an incline and at a speed of only 3.0 miles per hour.  On paper (screen?) that looks wussy, but in reality, it's kicking my behind.  I'm not sure if it's the weight I've put on in the front or the fact that my lungs are squished in there, or maybe just because my whole body is completely different now than it was seven months ago, but just walking on the treadmill is a challenge these days.

I'm going to see how long I can keep exercising.  I've heard that many pregnant women make it to the day before they give birth, and I've also heard that the more active I can remain, the better my recovery will be after having the little baby.  Activity helps keep BSparl healthier, too, which is even more incentive to keep plodding.

Weird thing is, my blood sugars don't drop during exercise anymore.  In fact, they seem to go up a little bit.  Before becoming pregnant, I would disconnect my pump and exercise without insulin, but now I need to leave it attached.  And I sometimes need to bolus during the workout, depending on how the Dexcom is trending.  It's very odd, what my hormones are doing to my blood sugars these days.  I also had to increase part of my wee hours of the morning basal today, after two mornings in a row of waking up at 150 mg/dl.

"Kerri, you're rambling.  You realize that, right?  You're just rambling on about exercise and blood sugars and do you actually have a point with this post?"

Why thank you, Internal Motivational Speaker.  I appreciate you bothering me.  Yes, I'm rambling, but I'm just trying to get all these thoughts out before I lose them.  Which seems to be the case lately.

"Why don't you just tell them that the real reason you're fixated on exercise this week is because when you came home from Sundance, each cat had gained 5 pounds?  Now you have a trio of porkchops racing around the apartment?  Why don't you admit that Siah can't even fit under the couch anymore because she's too darn fat?"

Sigh.  I need to get back into the exercise groove. 

And apparently so do my cats.

Posted by Kerri Morrone Sparling at 11:21 AM | Permalink | Comments (17) | TrackBacks (0)

We're just over 23 1/2 weeks with Ms. BSparl, and she's an active little biscuit in there.  I know I mentioned it in my vlog earlier this week, but this baby is scooting around all over the place inside of me.  Last night, for the first time, Chris and I could actually SEE her kicking from the outside.  Feeling her kick is one thing, but seeing it?  Completely amazing.  When she shuttles and rolls from one side of my uterus to the other, I can see her moving.  My belly swells more on one side, and then I can feel and see the 'bulge' move over to the other side.  (I'm trying to get a video of her doing this, but usually when it happens, I'm too taken by surprised to grab the Flip!)

On the diabetes front, my insulin resistance is climbing.  Daily.  Like a cat in a tree, howling from the top branch and refusing to come down.  (I need the fire department - stat!)  My basals, once at a conservative 12.4u today per day, are at an even 20u per day and I'm sure they'll need to be upped again sometime next week.  I feel like I'm chasing my tail right now with these blood sugars, but so long as I can continue to effectively stalk them, I'm confident that I'm not boiling BSparl.  This morning, after three days of waking up at 140, 155, and 203 (gah), respectively, my fasting number was 79 mg/dl and the Dexcom reflected a steady overnight, too. I'll take that, and hope it happens again tomorrow. 

But if it doesn't?  CRANK it up again!

A big hurdle I'm encountering is the exercise bit.  Honestly, I haven't had a good workout since before we went to Spain (and returned with Ms. BSparl).  In the first trimester, I was usually too exhausted to get to the gym (went three times a week instead of the five I was getting in before), and then we moved out of our apartment in Connecticut, so that whole transition sucked out my desire to work out almost entirely. 

Now, well into the second trimester, I'm trying to get to the gym but it's just so boring.  My exercise options feel so limited, and I'm not used to the whole "get on the treadmill, walk steadily for 35 minutes, END" routine.  No ab workouts, or I could smoosh BSparl.  No jumping rope, or all these new sticky-outtie parts of my body might leap off of me and my pelvic floor could be weaked.  (Kidding on the body parts leaping off but true on the pelvic floor concerns. I also can't imagine jumping rope being almost 6 months pregnant, nevermind the fact that the kid won't like it.)  And no strenuous weight lifting, thanks to compromised diabetic eyes. Those little five pound weights I have are borderline questionable, considering my retinopathy progression.  Booooooo.

So the treadmill it is, for long and awkward ambling.  (For now.)  And even though it's a whole lot of boring (I've watched that "build a six foot gingerbread house in 8 hours" challenge on the food network like seven times now), it is getting harder and harder to keep moving.  With BSparl expanding every week, my organs are getting a little smushed in there.  An expanding uterus puts pressure on my bladder, my diaphragm, and every other organ I have in there, leaving me short of breath a lot of the time and generally feeling like I'm going to tip over a little bit.  I guess these walking workouts are still exercise, even though they aren't even close to what I was doing before BSparl's creation.  

Every week is different, but I'm definitely not complaining.  Pretty damn grateful, actually.  I'm so happy to look in the mirror and see that my waistline has all but disappeared and has been replaced by this bump o' BSparl.  She's in there, she's doing well, and in just about four months, she'll be here.  

Posted by Kerri Morrone Sparling at 11:04 AM | Permalink | Comments (26) | TrackBacks (0)

After the loooooooong day in Boston on Friday, I needed to work off some stress.  So Chris and I decided to 'sail away on the Block Island ferry.' (This is the theme song for the ferry, but I couldn't find a YouTube clip or anything.  If someone can find audio proof of this song, please send it to me!  Lyrics are "Sail away on the Block Island Ferry, take a trip back to carefree times.  Sail away, Block Island awaits you.  Just leave your troubles behind."  And thus ends this digression.)

Our ferry ride over was a little choppy, and we were ... green by the time the ferry docked at Payne's Dock, but we shook off our seasickness quickly after breakfast at the Mohegan Cafe.  Then we rented some dented bikes from the shop by Ballard's (I left my bike back in CT ... foolish Kerri) and got on the road.

I must admit:  July was a tough month for me, exercise-wise.  I was traveling way more than I'm used to and only made it to the hotel gyms a handful of times.  My own gym membership at home went virtually unused, save for a few ragtag workouts.  But I thought I was still in relatively decent shape, so I didn't think the bike ride would kick my ass.  I was even grinning before we attempted the hills, all hopeful. 

Oh how stupid I was. 

The first leg of the ride was all uphill.  We followed Spring Street straight up to the Southeast Lighthouse and by the time we reached the top of the bluffs, I was dying.  DYING.  My legs were wobbly and I was panting and my blood sugar was plummeting.   Thankfully, I'm a nerd and I chose the bike with the little basket on the front, and since I didn't have a small dog to stuff in there, I instead had a secure place for glucose tabs.  Which I ate.  Happily.  Next to the Southeast lighthouse. 

Exhibit A:

We hung out for a while at the lighthouse because my numbers just wouldn't budge, so I are a few more glucose tabs near the bluffs. 

Exhibit B:

The Dexcom (also stuffed into the bike basket) finally stopped BEEEEEEEEP!ing and a quick test confirmed a number finally in the triple digits, so we ventured on our way.  Thankfully, the way down was easier on our legs, and we stopped at the Block Island airport to take a break and watch the teeny, tiny planes land.  (Note:  No.  I will never go on one of these planes.  They hold four people.  Including the pilot.  Oh hell no!)

It was fun, though.  Chris and I had a great time - hard not to in one of my favorite places.  Even though my legs were burning and my wrist was a little aggravated from the ride, it was awesome to be out in the sunshine, taking in the sights of a beautiful place like Block Island as we whizzed by on our bikes.  (We also found the same pond three times.  Sad senses of direction, we have.) 

I already have a bike, but it's been sitting in our storage space for the last few years.  I used to ride all the time when I lived in RI because my apartment was across the street from a beautiful eight mile bike path.  Now I think I want to bust that thing out and toddle around town on my ridiculous bicycle with my equally ridiculous helmet (thank you, Nicole), maybe with Siah in a basket on the front. 

Or maybe just my meter would be more realistic. 

Either way, it was awesome to be outside, far from the glowing computer screen, pedaling away my stress on the summer streets of Block Island.

Posted by Kerri Morrone Sparling at 10:49 AM | Permalink | Comments (12) | TrackBacks (0)

Way overdue on a new vlog post, but I was inspired by George's post yesterday about getting back on track with exercise.  So here's my vlog post about diabetes, working out, and what motivates me to move.

Some of my reasons are a little goofy, but I think whatever gets me to exercise is well worth laughing at myself a little bit.  What gets you to break a sweat?

Posted by Kerri Morrone Sparling at 08:43 AM | Permalink | Comments (9) | TrackBacks (0)

When I was preparing for our wedding last year, I spent a lot of time at the gym.  A.  Lot.  As in, too much.  If I wasn't at work at dLife or doing wedding-esque things like cake tastings, dress fittings, and bridal shower fun, I was working out and doing my best to keep the stress from fattening me up.

Fitness was my priority.  

But after the wedding, other stuff started to crop up.  Weekends home in RI.  Travel for work.  Writing projects that required lots of attention.  New focuses at dLife.  Every day was this whirlwind of chaos and while I've been having fun and being very productive, my days at the gym were harder to come by.  Before, I was working out faithfully Monday - Friday after work.  But "life stuff" kept cropping up, and suddenly I found myself at the gym only four days a week.

Then it all became a perfect storm of distraction.  I was working late on dLife initiatives.  I was answering emails from my Blackberry into the wee hours of the night and sleeping less.  My wrist exploded in a fit of tendinitis and low blood sugars returned to my life with a renewed sense of determination.  Piles of snow kept falling and the gym kept closing, and on other days, I worked too late to get to the gym before it closed.

My time at the gym went from frequent and intense to only four days a week and pretty remedial.

Not okay, because my body wants to be fluffy.  It may be a family gene pool thing and it might also be exacerbated by diabetes factors, but if I sit still and let nature take its course, my body wants to be a happy 15 lbs heavier.

I, however, do not agree.

But I was frustrated because between feeling stressed and having lows again, my caloric intake far exceeded my burn off.  Thus, I lost any semblance of abs.  (Shame, too, because I liked them while they were there.)  So, in effort to reclaim my abs before I get pregnant and become a happy beach ball swallower, I did my part to stimulate the economy:  I bought an elliptical machine.

Or, as I keep calling it by mistake, an "ellipmachine."

It was delivered and assembled last Monday morning, and I called Chris (who was on business in California last week) to tell him it had arrived safely.  

"It's here!  The ellipmachine!"

"The what?"  

"I mean the elliptical."

It's a nice machine - very smooth and not clunky as to annoy our downstairs neighbors (I do not want to become Shoes) - and I used it every day last week for an hour.  Now I'm able to go out with my coworkers after work for an hour or two and still manage to slide a workout in.  I am also hoping to use it in the mornings (provided I'm able to get to bed at a reasonable time and eek out a 20 minute workout in the am).  My main hope is to reclaim the level of fitness I worked so hard to achieve before the wedding but lost a bit due to that pesky "life stuff."  

Last week, while Chris was out of town, he called one night and I answered, panting.  

"Hey baby ... what are you doing?"

"Dude, I'm on the ellipmachine."

I could hear him laughing.  "The ellipmachine, eh?"

"Oh you know what I mean."

Here's hoping that the ellipmachine can help me get a workout in even when my schedule wants to thwart my good intentions.  I'm ready to battle.

(Take that, early gym closings!  En garde, late nights at work!  Pffffft, snow days!  Come back, sort-of-abs!) 

Posted by Kerri Morrone Sparling at 09:23 AM | Permalink | Comments (10) | TrackBacks (0)

Brrrrrrrrrriiiiiiing!

"Hello?"

"Keeeeeeer."

"Larry!  dude, how the hell have you been?"

"Dude, don't call me out on being MIA.  You're the one who has been hiding out lately.  Eating kettle corn by the fistful.  Skipping the gym to have dinner with those Fairfield County Dinner ladies ..."

"Hey, wait a second.  I'm not allowed to have a social life?"

"No, you can, but you need to stick with the workouts.  And not just going, but like you need to mentally be there."

"What?  I go!  I'm there!"

"Kerri, you know what I mean.  Over the last two months, you have read seven books while working out.  You can't work out hard when your nose is buried in a book!"

"I'm trying to relax a little bit, too.  Managing stress just as important as exercise!"

"It totally is.  You don't think I got stressed out that January day in '85 against Portland, when I had to hit that baseline jumper at the buzzer?  But you aren't de-stressing.  I've seen you with your Blackberry while you're working out.  Your BLACKBERRY?  That's how you avoid stress?"

"Larry!  How the hell did you see me?"

"Skylights.  I climbed up on the building.  But anyway, you need to tune back into those workouts, Kerri.  You are going through the motions, and that's not going to help you lose those 10 pounds you've gained since the wedding."

"Five pounds, smartass.  And wait, did you say you were peeping through the skylights?"

"Five.  Whatever.  And yeah, the skylights are comfortable.  I usually bring headphones.  But anyway, I want to see some serious effort from you this month.  You were doing really well, and I want to see you back in better shape by the end of March, okay?"

"I can do that.  Actually, we're buying an elliptical this week for the house, so now I can do you at home."  

"That joke never gets old for you, does it."

"Nope."

"Okay, Ker.  Keep it real, and don't let me see you with that frigging Blackberry on the treadmill anymore.  Got it?"

"Got it.  Thanks for checking in, Larry."

"No problem.   Happy belated birthday!"

"Thanks!  Stay off the damn skylights."

Click.

Posted by Kerri Morrone Sparling at 09:02 AM | Permalink | Comments (10) | TrackBacks (0)

Last night at the gym, I put my bag in the locker and took off my sweatshirt.  Wearing my black yoga pants, sports bra, and a tank top, I went into the bathroom section of the locker room to put my hair in a ponytail.

Two other women were at the sinks, chatting in Spanish and washing their hands.   They were standing to my left and as I raised my arm to put the elastic in my hair, I noticed that both women had stopped talking for a minute and were staring at my arm. Staring like I had moldy peach stuck to my arm, or maybe one of those bizarre happy spiders. 

Then I remembered that the Dexcom sensor is comfortably resting on the back of my left arm.  Facing them.  

I had a quick surge of "Grrrrr," as in "What are you staring at, woman?  Never seen a CGM sensor before?" ... then I had to check my attitude.  No, they probably haven't ever seen a continuous glucose monitoring sensor before.  Just because it's something I'm used to doesn't mean it's something they are used to.  After yesterday's post purge and your wonderful and inspiring comments, I felt ready to cast off some of this anger and try, instead, to help.

So I decided to smile instead.  

"I'm sorry, I don't mean to notice that you're staring."  Gestured to my arm.  "This thing - it's for my type 1 diabetes.  It's a glucose monitor."

"Oh my goodness, I did not mean to stare," said the woman in the green shirt.  "I was like, 'Is that an iPod thing or something?'  I have never seen that kind of thing before."

Her friend with the glasses leaned in.  "For diabetes?"

"Yeah.  I know it doesn't look completely natural, and I would stare, too, if it wasn't something I was used to." Glasses and Green Shirt smiled back.  "It's cool.  I just didn't want you wondering if I was some kind of cyborg or something."

Green Shirt laughed.  "Cyborg?  No, chica.  It's interesting looking.  I was waiting for, like, the music to come out of it or something.  But I didn't mean to stare.  Lo siento, my friend."

"Not a problem at all.  Have a good workout!"

I left the locker room and went to do my workout.  After I was done, I went back in to grab my sweatshirt and saw Glasses and Green Shirt getting their gear together.  Flashed them a quick smile.  Glasses smiled back.  Green Shirt tapped her left arm and gave me a knowing nod.

Some people can try to bring you down.  But others, even strangers, can raise you up.  

[Dexcom disclosure]

Posted by Kerri Morrone Sparling at 11:02 AM | Permalink | Comments (23) | TrackBacks (0)

Reckon that on these here diabetes blogs (spits into spittoon), we do a lot of sharing.  We share our best diabetes practices, our literal highs and lows, and we also have the common bond of this disease.  And through these shared experiences, we learn to take care of ourselves, and each other. 

(Is that Jerry Springer's line?  I can't remember.  But in any event, I mean it.)  

So when I heard about The Biggest Loser:  Diabetes-Style, I knew this was another example of the power of the diabetes blogosphere.  Turns out that 18 of our very own are taking on a "Biggest Loser" type challenge, and they're letting us follow their progress and become inspired by them along their journey. 

My friend Landileigh, creator of Landileigh's Little World and this weight loss challenge, took some time to talk with me about The Biggest Loser:  Diabetes-Style and how she's hoping it will rock their worlds!

Kerri:  What made you want to start The Biggest Loser - Diabetes Style?   And how long is the program?

Landi:  With having Chronic Kidney Disease, I need to be at a weight that won’t be so hard on my body for when the time comes for dialysis. My good friend George over at TheBADblog.com was also going through a similar weight realization and I knew he couldn’t go through this alone, and neither could I. The Biggest Loser ‘D’ Style was born with helping the two of us out. I never thought I’d have 18 people join up!  We’ll be following the schedule of the show … so 12-16 weeks.

Kerri:  What was the catalyst?

Landi:  Seeing this picture! I never realized I’d gotten so .. ummm.. large.

Kerri:  You say on your site that it's not about diet or exercise, but more about supporting one another as you work towards better health. How are you guys rallying the troops and keeping everyone inspired?

Landi:  I’m sending daily emails to everyone who is participating, and posting on my new blog at www.landileigh.com.

Kerri:  How are you holding one another accountable? How do you keep track of where people are "starting from" and what their goals are?

Landi:  No holding back, it is out there on the internet for everyone to see. If you can’t post it and show it, you can’t say to yourself that you want to do something about it.  I have a large spreadsheet in Excel that is keeping it all [the results] straight for me.

Kerri:  You have Other Diabetes, and many of the other participants are also diabetic, or the parents of diabetic kids. Does the same kind of inspiration work for all kinds of participants, or do you need to tailor your approach?

Landi:  I think the main goal is doing this for our health, diabetes or not. Obesity and being overweight is one of the largest health concerns there is today. I’m not guiding people on what their diet/exercise plan is. There are tons of them out there for them to pick from. But I am asking that people say, "Here I am! I want to do something about it!" Kind of like an AA program for being overweight. I also wanted to help my comrades in the D-force!

Kerri:  What happens when you guys cross the finish line?

Landi:  For every week that you completed that week’s challenge and sent in your weight, your name goes into a hat. At the end of the 16 weeks, names will be drawn and given prizes. So far I’ve gotten donations from Rickina at StickMeDesigns and AmyT at DiabetesMine will also be donating prizes.

Kerri:  What happens once the 16 weeks are over?
 
Landi:  Hopefully they’ll be less of us! And I’ve already been asked to start a Biggest Loser ‘D’ Style II for people that weren’t able to get in on it this time.

To follow the success of the Biggest Losers:  Diabetes-Style, scuttle on over to Landi's blog and stay tuned!  (And look out for some prizes from me here at SUM - hopefully it won't be a lock of Siah's fur.)  Thanks, Landi!!

Posted by Kerri Morrone Sparling at 09:15 AM | Permalink | Comments (6) | TrackBacks (0)

They left me alone for several months, but now the lows have returned, and they brought friends. Last night, before we left the house to go to the gym, I tested at 137 mg/dl. Knowing I'd be doing at least 30 minutes of cardio and some weights, I figured I should eat something. Grabbed a bar from the cupboard and chomped on it.

"Will that do it?"  Chris asked as he mixed up his protein shake.

"Yeah.  It has like 18 grams of carbs.  If I disconnect and eat this, I should be good."

Munch, munch.  Feeling good.  We drive off to the gym and go our separate ways - Chris to the weight room downstairs and me to the women's cardio section.  I hit the treadmill and dial up a 30 minute workout.

Music is loud - a little Muse.  My legs feel strong and my sneakers pound against the treadmill.  Strong, healthy, strong, healthy ... the words jostle around in my brain with each step.

But I start feeling a little funny at the 20 minute mark.  The music is too loud.  My headphones feel tight against my ears and my hands are numb at the very edges.  I scan the far wall of the room and the walls look a little wobbly.  My legs are a little wobbly. 

With the treadmill still running, I jump off quickly to the side and grab my meter from my gym bag.  Jump back on to the treadmill with the meter in hand, slowing down the pace so I can unzip the bag and lance my finger.

33 mg/dl.

"That sucks."  I press "Stop" on the treadmill interface and open my bottle of juice, taking eight long slugs from the plastic bottle.   My legs, which just a few minutes ago were holding me up just fine, feel like they're made of yarn.  Leaning against the railing of the treadmill, I finish the bottle.

This low feels particularly rotten.  Waves of nausea and a feeling of extreme light-headedness are coming up from my knees and cresting over my eyes.  I know I need to get downstairs and find Chris, just in case.  My legs work on autopilot, bringing me downstairs and into the weight room, where Chris is working out.

One look is all he needs.

"How low?"

"Thirty-three."

"Hmm.  Larry Bird."   He guides me by the elbow over to where I can sit down.  "Did you drink juice?"

"Yeah. I'm frustrated.  I only got 20 minutes into my workout.  And I feel like I'm all ..." Words aren't processing properly in my head.  "Mushy.  I feel mushy."

"You just need a few minutes.  You'll be okay.  Right?"

"Right."  The affirmation makes sense.  "Baby, I'm sort of tired of Larry Bird."

He smiled and we waited for the numbers to climb.

I don't know where these lows are coming from, but they are sneaky, intense little suckers that buckle me at the knees and steal the words from my mouth.  I'm waiting on my next order of Dexcom sensors to be shipped, but last night was one of those moments where I missed the Dex.  I would have at least seen the low creeping up on me a little bit.

But the wildest part is how strong I feel when I'm in that range, that 90 mg/dl range.  It's my magic number.  I feel strong, capable, almost borderline athletic.  (For those of you who know me in real life, you know how remarkable that statement really is!)  It's crazy how much just a little fluctuation in these numbers can really change how our bodies respond. 

Dex, I need you back, buddy. 

Posted by Kerri Morrone Sparling at 01:38 PM | Permalink | Comments (14) | TrackBacks (0)

Last Friday, we had a little Halloween party at dLife, complete with costume competition.  And there were treats - oh holy sugar rush, there were brownies and candy bars and cupcakes and other delicious, carb-laden tasty bits.

But somehow, willpower had settled into my brain on the overnight and took up residence there, keeping my hands steady when the sugary treats were passed around.  And while other moments of willpower are hard for me to maintain, this one was easy.  I've felt a little "off the wagon" lately with my eating, so I'm trying to revert back to pre-wedding mentality, with a focus on lower carbohydrate consumption and ramping up my workouts a little bit.

"No thanks, I'm all set," as the candy dish is passed around.
"I'm cool," while the brownies are being cut and served.
"I'll have coffee," when offered a delicious cupcake.

And it wasn't difficult.  I actually felt unaffected by this mysterious willpower.  It was kind of nice to just coast without feeling any pangs of "Man, I wish I wanted to take the leap and eat that ..."

So why, dear diabetes, did you decide to take a mini-hiatus for the afternoon?  My "good behavior" was rewarded by a series of low blood sugars that righteously kicked my ass.  As soon as I got to work, I started taking pictures of my co-workers' costumes and enjoying the festivities.  But after a few minutes, I realized there was a hollow tin to the way everything sounded, and my lightweight Red Riding Hood cape felt like it was about 33 (Larry Bird) lbs of fabric.  

I tested, and sure enough:  34 mg/dl.

Fantastic.  I had to borrow change from a coworker and grab a juice from the kitchen, chugging it in almost one gulp.  Thankfully, my body recovered fast and by the time my friend asked, "Hey, are you okay?", I already was.

Forty-five minutes goes by.  And I'm sitting at my desk, typing away in an email and realizing I've typed the word "diabetus" instead of "diabetes."  I hit the backspace and tried to retype it, but my fingertips skidded off the keyboard clumsily.  The headache behind my ears was a pounding one, and beads of sweat were on my forehead.  Oh for crying out loud - another one?  I reached back and grabbed my bottle of glucose tabs, popping two in my mouth at once as I fumbled with my meter.  

Well lookie here:  48 mg/dl.  How did that happen?!  I haven't eaten anything that required a big, potentially miscalculated bolus, so what gives?  Whatever - treated it and tried to move on.  (But I giggled again at "diabetus," and promptly had Liberty Medical commercials stuck in my head for the next three hours.  Digression?  Don't mind if I do!)

We had our Halloween costume contest, gave out the prizes, and work resumed again.  I was talking with my coworker when I felt the old, familiar symptoms creeping back up on me.  Her voice was too loud, the heating vents were too loud, the buzzing from the computer screen was creeping into my brain and gnawing on my nerves.  I felt testy.  Overly sensitive.  I wanted to tell her I felt low but the words coming out of my mouth weren't ones that had checked in with me, first.  

"I wanted to ... you know, I'm sorry.  I think I'm low again.  I need to test."  Shunk.  55 mg/dl.  I didn't know what to say.  Why won't this low just back off!?  Does it want brownies that badly?  I moved my chair back and reached for the glucose tabs again, my coworker pausing to look at my quizzically.  "Apparently, I'm cured," I said with a shrug.

I do not understand what causes these lows that hang around for hoooooours.  I didn't change my basals.  I didn't do anything bizarre, like run five miles before work or start doing crunches at my desk.  I hadn't eaten anything out of the ordinary, and I was eating snacks at very regular intervals.  But for some reason, this low blood sugar was hanging with me - we were buddies.

Dear diabetes, if you wanted a brownie, you could have just said so.  Seriously. 

Posted by Kerri Morrone Sparling at 02:50 PM | Permalink | Comments (10) | TrackBacks (0)

Maine was awesome.  Despite the crazy long drive (6 hours from Providence, where we left from on Saturday morning), Acadia National Park was gorgeous and Bar Harbor was the perfect little seaside town to explore.

On Sunday morning, we woke up at 4:33 (Larry Bird) in the morning and drove up Cadillac Mountain to see the sunrise.  According to the geniuses at Wikipedia, Cadillac Mountain is the first place in North America that sees the sunrise.  And we watched that sun come up, all right.  We were exhausted, but it was truly beautiful.

After watching the sun rise, we ventured down to Bar Harbor to rustle up some breakfast.  Since it was well before seven in the morning, we had plenty of time to kill.  The views of the actual harbor were so beautiful that we snapped a pile of pictures.

The breakfast place we found was AWESOME - 2 Cats Inn and Restaurant.  Among the very first patrons that day, we enjoyed an excellent organic breakfast (which included a biscuit with strawberry-flavored butter - so, so awesome) and woke up slowly.  I'd recommend this breakfast joint to anyone.  The service was a little slow, but the food was among the best I've ever had.  And there was a cat sauntering through the dining room, which I thought was cool.  Against health codes?  Sure.  But I don't care.

In Acadia National Park, we drove the Park Loop and tried to see as many parts of the park as we could.  We visited Thunder Hole twice, but the tides were never high enough to experience the full effects of the promised "Thunder."   We had to bring our own waves.  (HA - the puns never stop!)

The hiking trails were great, too, and my blood sugars seemed to enjoy working out in a different environment.  We did the 3.3 mile loop around Jordan Pond (and yes, we had popovers at the Jordan Pond Tea House) and later in the day, we climbed up Gorham Mountain.  The views were incredible, and being the only people on the mountain at that time of day made us feel like we were real explorers (nevermind the cairns placed on the mountain).  We reached the summit after a hard 0.9 mile hike up.

Even camping out was decent - we devoured s'mores (after taking a full hour to make a damn fire) and slept in our tent.  The dirt and I made our peace with one another.  And we have a whole slew of photos on Flickr, if you want to see more of the scenery.

The Internet is intruiging.  Work is comfortable.  And checking out what different cities have to offer is fun.  But being out there in the woods and seeing what nature has to offer - that's a whole different kind of existance.

Posted by Kerri Morrone Sparling at 09:54 AM | Permalink | Comments (12) | TrackBacks (1)

There are days when I feel like I'm draaaaaging myself to the gym.  Literally, like scooping my legs off the floor, forcing them into my workout clothes, and dawdling over to the door.  The weeks after the wedding and through the beginning of August were particularly hard, because my numbers were on the level of "sucking royally" and my body was infected with a general feeling of "vlah." 

Thank goodness that Chris is usually ready to roll.  It helps to have someone who is also dedicated to being healthy, because it makes it easier for me to keep from slacking off due to my own laziness or vlah-ishness.  Especially when work gets busy and freelance is hopping - getting my sorry butt to the gym becomes a real challenge.  Chris and his equal quest for good health and a long life serve as more motivation to get moving.

It also helps that the Sausage does her part.  

By trying on my running shoes. 

Wrong foot, Siah.  The other one.

There you go, piggy.  That's the correct foot.

Diabetes requires support on all fronts.  Even from the cat. 

Posted by Kerri Morrone Sparling at 02:05 PM | Permalink | Comments (11) | TrackBacks (0)

Beauty benchmarks seem to be measured in what size pants you fit into and what designer hand bag you have draped over your rail-thin arm. 

This is the biggest bunch of crap I have ever heard.  In my life.

There's a lot of body image problems in our society.  Women are shown almost-unattainable media images and are encouraged - expected? - to achieve that look.  As a girl with diabetes and part of a family of curvier people, whittling my body down to that socially mandated size isn't easy ... and wasn't accomplished.  Life with diabetes puts a huge emphasis on food, making me unable to eat just a raisin for lunch.  Instead, I ate in accordance with the then-peaking of my insulin and tried to keep my weight, and my diabetes, under control.  This was difficult at times.

I was never a "thin" adult.  I've always had more of an athletic build than that of a runway model.  As a kid, I was scrawny, but once puberty hit, my body took on womanly curves and held fast to them.  I never felt shapely or feminine - instead, I felt fat. In college, I lived with six other girls (six until me?) and they were all teeny little things.  They had thin arms and thin legs and they shared clothes with one another, but I couldn't get in on that scene because I was about two sizes bigger than all of them.  If they were wearing size 4 pants, I was in an 8.  I always felt a bit bigger, a bit more awkward, and very shy about my body. Despite whether or not I looked as overweight as I felt, my mind was entrenched in thoughts that were self-conscious.  I was very unfair to myself, just like many other women are.  It sucks to feel bad about yourself.

Diabetes challenges my health, but it sometimes offers up a healthy perspective.  It took me several years to really come to terms with the fact that my body needs to have different priorities.  Going to the gym has become less about slimming down my stomach and more about improving my cardiovascular health, lowering my A1C, and reducing body fat so that I can make better use of my injected insulin.  It couldn't be about fitting into a smaller dress size because it needed to be about being healthier every day.

I'm not going to be teeny.  I will not be the girl who appears to be challenged by every breeze that blows through.  My body will be strong and curvy and ornamented by various medical devices, like a diabetic Christmas tree.  It's taken me a long time to achieve a level of confidence in how I look and how I feel about myself.  But I see myself now and realize that I don't look much different than I did in high school or in college.   I just feel different.  I feel like the numbers that matter aren't the ones on the scale or sewn into the tag on my skirt, but instead the ones stored in my meter. 

I feel happy, and that looks better on me than any stitch of clothing I own.

Posted by Kerri Morrone Sparling at 11:47 AM | Permalink | Comments (26) | TrackBacks (0)

Posted by Kerri Morrone Sparling at 11:25 AM | Permalink | Comments (7) | TrackBacks (0)

The folks at Fitness4Diabetics contacted me with information about their upcoming webinar - with Hope Warshaw, who was at Divabetic last week!  Here's the scoop from the release:

"On Thursday, March 13th,at 7pm EST, Fit4D will be hosting Hope Warshaw, author of multiple books on healthy eating, including Eat Out, Eat Right, along with Fit4D Director of Nutrition Services, Susan Meeke, MS, RD, LD,CDE, for a very special presentation for nutrition month. This promises to be a lively and interactive discussion about healthy eating and increased activity levels as a means to long-term lifestyle change.

In honor of Fit4D's two year anniversary providing diabetes coaching services, Fit4D will contribute $5 to JDRF for the first 100 hundred people who register and attend the March 13th webinar.   We want to thank you for your help in promoting our monthly webinars. 

Participants can register at http://www.fit4d.com/newsletter.php?a=signup  or sign up for our newsletter and updates on future seminars including Mom, Can I Have Cookies? Diabetes in Childhood and Committing to Your Health.  For more information, please visit www.fit4d.com or call 866 411 0254."

Posted by Kerri Morrone Sparling at 10:52 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

Over the past two months, I've been slacking - big time.  I've been indulging in desserts on the weekends.  I've been going away with Chris and enjoying decadent dinners at French restaurants and sipping cappuccinos every chance I had.  Work has been extremely busy and I've been putting in plenty of hours.  Freelance projects have included some late nights to meet deadlines and some trips into the city for different events, so I've only been able to get four workouts in per week. 

And I've seen a bit of a flux in my body - nothing noticeable on a scale but I don't feel as strong as I did a few weeks ago and I feel a little sloppier.

No more of this namby-pamby crap "I'll do my best and see what happens."  Change needs to be made and I just need to plain make it.

So, with the guidance of my fitness-freak fiance and armed with enough information to safely manage any diabetes disaster, I'm starting a whole new regimen.  I will roll with this until my wedding date, after which time I will be on my honeymoon, happily married, and not plagued by the white dress stress.

My plan is to take a standard approach to every day, eating almost exactly the same thing daily and following as much of a schedule as possible.  I know that when I eat similar items, I see similar blood sugar responses.  I'm hoping that a more finely-tuned diet will eliminate blood sugar fluctations and help me keep better tabs on what I'm eating.  (Because those almond Hershey kisses on my co-worker's desk are delicious and I keep snaking them throughout the day.  No more of that for the next two and a half months.)

I'm going to try to follow this meal plan at least Monday - Friday:

8:30 am:  Oatmeal and walnuts, with my morning cup of tea.

10:00 am:   Yogurt.

Lunch:  Salad of baby spinach with baked chicken, cherry tomatoes, and portabella mushrooms with balsamic vinagrette dressing.

2:30 pm:  Apple and peanut butter.

5:00 pm:  Breakstone cottage cheese double.  (These things are delicious.)   

Dinner:  Eggs, or soup, or chicken and that zippy white bean salad, or something else healthy along those lines.

Bedtime snack:   Light, low-carb snack, like nuts or a cheese stick

As far as the workout goes, I'm changing things a little, but not completely.  Generally, I'm at the gym Monday - Friday and doing 15 minutes of weight training, then a 30 minute cardiovascular workout.  I'm doing a variety of weight exercises (like tricep dips, push-ups, box jumps, jumping rope, lunges, I'm exhausted just writing this stuff, ab exercises, etc.) and doing 2 minutes walking - 10 minutes running as my cardio workout. 

Re-reading this, it sounds so regimented.  BORING.  But I've worked very hard over the last few years to change my body and I'm so hopeful that this new routine brings me to a new level of fitness and diabetes health overall, making me ready for my walk down the aisle. 

Because I tried on my wedding gown again this weekend and it fits like a glove.  A glove without much room for weight gain. 

No more nervous nibbling - it's time to buckle down and make this work. Let the sweating begin!

Posted by Kerri Morrone Sparling at 02:26 PM | Permalink | Comments (16) | TrackBacks (0)

I have been busting my arse at the gym for the past few weeks, pushing myself harder than I ever thought I wanted to go.  Long workouts comprised of resistance training and cardio circuits.  I'm forcing my body to lift things it doesn't want to lift and go distances that are too damn far, and I'm finally hitting my stride.

I'm not gasping for air while I'm running anymore.  I'm also not watching the clock and praying that it ticks faster so I can decrease the speed after my ten minute intervals.   And thankfully, I've stopped worrying that I'm going to fly off the back of the treadmill and embed myself into the wall.

I've also noticed an increase in my strength, and not in that weight-lifting way, but in the real-life way.  I can bring in more grocery bags without having my biceps burn.  I can stand on my tiptoes steady enough to grab a teacup off the highest kitchen shelf. 

It sounds silly, these little achievements, but they mean so much to me.  It took a few months to not view my visits to the gym as "Arghh ... arduous crap!" and it's taken me many, many more months to see results from these work-week workouts.  None of this workout stuff has been easy.  Making the pursuit of fitness part of my intrinsic routine instead of some torturous event has been a tough road, but it's completely worth it.

Because yesterday, I had this (fictional) message on my voicemail:

BEEP

"Ker.  Dude.  Larry here.  I haven't heard from you in a while and I know your wedding is coming up.  Wanted to make sure you were doing okay with your workouts and you're ready for all that white-dress girly crap.  You know how I feel about giving 100% all of the time, things will work out in the end.  And in this case, you'll be healthy and happy and ready to become Mrs. Sparkling or Spaulding or whatever his last name is.  Keep at it, girl.  I'm here for you, just like Mr. Holland was for me. Man, this message is long!  I'm going to delete it now.  Going to re-record it ... now."

Thanks, Larry.  I'm glad you're (fictiously) with me on this.

Posted by Kerri Morrone Sparling at 05:40 PM | Permalink | Comments (13) | TrackBacks (0)

An Exercise in Jotted Thoughts, by Kerri Morrone:

Ahem.

I am on day five of the sensor (placed it last Friday into my arm) and it seems that the longer I wear this, the more accurate the results become.  Last night, I tested with my OneTouch and saw 132 mg/dl.  My CGM said 130 mg/dl.  I'll take that.  I just want accurate results.

The thing is, this sensor stung a bit going in.  The site itself is slightly reddish and a little sore to the touch.  I know I should change the site today, but I'm reluctant to because I don't want to wait the 24 hours for decent results again.  I spoke with another Minimed Rep last night and she told me that the first 24 hours tend to be a little dodgy for everyone.  It's a difficult decision, making the leap from "trialing" to "purchasing."  Every time it buzzes when I'm high or low, it's hard to think about taking it off.  But every time it buzzes because it's bored or lonely (or whatever the hell it's buzzing about), it's hard to think about not feeding it to the cats. 

I'm still on the fence as to its place in my diabetes life.  But for now, I'm trying to learn from this experience.

I was working out last night at the gym and during my run, watched my numbers hold steady for about 15 minutes, then make a sharp turn towards hypoglycemia.  Testing to confirm and then taking a quick swig of juice, I finished my cardio workout at 108 mg/dl.  Watching workout trends helps me better determine when I should hit the ol' juice bottle and when I need to watch out for falling sugars. 

Also during my workout, while wearing a sports bra and a tank top on the treadmill, I noticed a woman staring at the exposed sensor on my arm.  It made me feel self-conscious for a minute, then oddly empowered.  Go ahead and stare, lady.  See if you can find it next week, when I put the transmitter somewhere else. 

One thing I'm definitely picking up on, like I did with the Dexcom, is that my numbers cruise around when I'm not counting carbs with precision.  I know this sounds like diabetic common sense, but when I bit into that sharon fruit this morning, I didn't bolus for the actual carbs, but I dosed instead for the estimated carbohydrate content.  Apparently, this sharon fruit had more than 18g of carbohydrate in it - more like 22g - and my numbers after consuming were in the 190 mg/dl range.  Lather, rinse, repeat.  If I want a tight A1c, I need to buckle down and pay attention to all the details, both delicious and detrimental.

It's been a week of serious diabetes stuff, with tangled emotions and blood sugars alike. 

Good thing I had a little Siah Sausage to wake up to this morning, her small nose pressed against my cheek and her paws on my face, the sound of her purring like a jet engine in my bedroom.  It felt strange to wake up laughing.  Damn cat.

SUM Tags: diabetes, insulin pump, MiniLink, CGM, learning curve, frustration, Siah, laughter

Posted by Kerri Morrone Sparling at 11:56 AM | Permalink | Comments (10) | TrackBacks (0)

I spend a lot of time thinking about health and fitness.  

There's my job, where I am often found perusing diabetes-related press releases, checking out the latest websites about endocrine health and wellness, and writing about what day-to-day life with diabetes is all about. 

Then there's my handsome fiance, who has spent time as a personal trainer, writes for various fitness venues (including AOL), eats a regimented, healthy diet, and has a physique that is evidence of time well-spent at the gym.

Oh, and then there is the whole "white wedding dress" thing, where everyone will be looking at me in a few months on a (hopefully sunny) May afternoon.  Not to mention my disease, which I manage with an insulin pump, my meter, attempts at healthy eating, and regular exercise.

So I'm constantly checking out different websites about health and fitness, as the themes touch so many different parts of my life.  My magazine collection is a mish-mash of Women's Health, Shape, and Modern Bride.  These pages are dog-eared and occasionally ripped out and pinned to my cube wall or my office bulletin board. 

Never mind the daily webcrawl I make, bouncing from my daily check of Women's Health online for some daily tips and inspirations, FitDay to continue on with my goal of keeping a food journal for a full month, Slashfood for some foodie snippets.  Recently, I've been checking out iVillage's Your Total Health site, Healthbolt, and Lift Magazine for some newer viewpoints. 

It's all bit-sized bits of health information, which fit into my multi-tasking sort of lifestyle.  But the part that I'm having trouble with is cutting down the workout to a sensible size.  Fitness doesn't appear to come in teeny bits for me.  I need to work out long and hard in order to see results, constantly fighting the uphill battle of treating low blood sugars and the demanding schedule of any fully employed twenty-something.  (Scratch that - the schedule of anyone is demanding, ranging from kids to senior citizens to circus clowns.)  I need to buckle down and make efforts to really reach my goals.  Bit of a tune-up.

A few months ago, I decided I needed to change my workout.  My legs were killing me.  But, as with anything else, my body adjusted and I needed to switch things up again.  I now have a few different methods of attack:  keeping a food journal, avoiding all holiday sweets until the New Year (it's like the Pre-New Year's Resolution), and making some awkward attempts at bringing running into my routine. 

Oh how I hate to run.  I feel awkward and like a great, traipsing gazelle.  But over the last two weeks, I've been trying to work in a circuit of running to help me tone up a bit more before the wedding.  (Five months!)  A combination of weight training and running was constantly touted by all those fitness sites as a killer fat loss program.  So I'm trying it.  First, I did five minutes running, five walking.  Then seven on, five off.  Last night, I did twelve on, five off. 

And I watched as my blood sugar fell from 160 (started the whole workout at 200 mg/dl) to 68 mg/dl.  When my workout changes, my diabetes management methods need to change, too.  Hopefully I'll find a way to trot with a bit more grace.  And hopefully my body will shift into shape by the time I'm donning my white dress for my big walk down the aisle.

Oh hell, maybe I'll run.  Just to prove a point.  ;)

Posted by Kerri Morrone Sparling at 05:55 PM | Permalink | Comments (7) | TrackBacks (0)

It's fricking freezing here lately.  Gone are the winters of 2006 where I barely turned on the heat and didn't bust out my wool jacket until almost February.  Here come the constant snow showers, rotten and battered hands, and frozen meters.

Yes, frozen meters.

Last night, after going to the gym, Chris and I stopped at the grocery store to pick up the ingredients for another attempt at soup.  (Pearl onions, chicken, black pepper, and celery.  It was definitely another good recipe from that book.)  Since we were just popping in for a few minutes, I left my gym bag in the car - with my iPod, water bottle, and glucose meter.

The wind was bitterly cold and biting through my sweatshirt.  I scampered over to the car and started it up while Chris loaded the groceries into the back seat.  (What a guy - always protects me from the elements!)  Feeling a little light-headed, I rescued my meter from my bag and unzipped the case.

"Whoa.  This thing is like a block of ice!"  I said. 

"What?"  Chris asked from outside the car, over the rustle of the plastic bags. 

I popped a strip into the meter. 

TEMPERATURE ERROR.  OUT OF OPERATING RANGE. 

Oh fantastic.  I rubbed the meter between my hands and blew on it, trying to thaw out its innards.  After a minute, I stuck the strip back in.

TEMPERATURE ERROR.  GOOD TRY, THOUGH.

Arghhhh.  Still feeling foggy, I cracked open the juice in my workout bag and took a few sips.   Then I opened the battery compartment and breathed onto the disc batteries, hoping they'd warm up. 

TEMPERATURE ERROR.  KERRI, TRY YOUR ARMPIT.

"Excuse me?"

STICK ME IN YOUR ARMPIT.
IT WILL WARM ME UP. REFER TO OWNER'S MANUAL.

Is this thing serious?  I removed the meter from the plastic holding case, looked from side to side to see if anyone was watching, and then shoved the meter into the armpit of my sweatshirt.  After waiting another minute, I tried again with another test strip.

AH, THANKS.  CODE 22. 

I pricked my finger and applied a drop of blood.  Five second count down.  68 mg/dl.

DO YOU NEED A SNACK?

"I already had some juice.  I'll just wait to come up."

OKAY.  MAKE SURE YOU TEST LATER JUST TO MAKE SURE.

"I will." 

Chris opened the door and settled into the driver's seat.  "You will, what?"

"Nothing.  I was just ... nevermind."

LOL.

Posted by Kerri Morrone Sparling at 03:18 PM | Permalink | Comments (23) | TrackBacks (0)

I spent the majority of yesterday beneath a mountain of blankets on the couch, anchored on either side by a fluffy cat.  Miserable and sick, yet capable of impressive levels of boredom, I watched daytime TV until my brain started to melt a little bit.

Itching to alleviate the boredom, I gathered myself together and exhibited my only smidge of culinary prowess:  cooking soup.

I'm not exactly known for my skills in the kitchen.  I can make a delicious breakfast, a bang-up cup of tea, and the occasional salad excursion.  But my true (and only) talent lies in the soup pot.  I make a tasty soup.  Using a book I had picked up at The Strand bookstore in NYC - Soup for Every Body.  Boasting a selection of low-carb and high-protein soups, complete with illustrations, this book was perfect for Chris and I and our picky little eating habits.

And it was only six bucks.  Good deal, this.  AND the soup ended up being delicious.  Chris claimed it's "restaurant quality."  Let me assure you, this is not a compliment often offered up, so I did a little sicky-jig of happiness.

I've been thinking about eating habits a lot lately, especially with the holidays coming and my will power on a bit of a hiatus.  As I wrote in my dLife column this month, the whole "special occasion" caveat during the holidays is tricky for me.  With so many parties and events, it's easy for me to succumb to "Oh, just this one time," and have that piece of cake/glass of wine/forkful of creme brulee.   Next thing I know, I'm indulging at every turn and my jeans don't fit as well as they did a month ago.

Never one to react to a problem, I'm trying to take a more proactive approach to this holiday season.  Enter:  Operation WillPower.  (Similar to Operation Thwart.)  Now that I'm two days into the antibiotics for strep and well on my way to being fully mended, I need to take control of my eating habits and get my act together. 

Back to heavy workouts.  Back to low-carb meals.  Back to paying attention to all the bits and pieces of diabetes management and readying my body for that wedding dress.  (Which, by the way, is being delivered in January and I'll be having my first fittings.  In less than two months.  Holy crap.)

So long, delicious treats!  I miss you already. 

Commence Operation WP.

Posted by Kerri Morrone Sparling at 02:56 PM | Permalink | Comments (11) | TrackBacks (0)

There was Fondue Night with my college roommates, dipping whatever we could find into cheese and then chocolate fondue (no, not at the same time), drinking wine, and gossiping like fools.

There was Thanksgiving with friends and family, spending time with our closest loved ones.

We had a delicious dinner at The Cheesecake Factory in the city and then explored Providence with the new camera, snapping shots of the Statehouse and the cityscape from an empty park at midnight.

A visit to my mother's house brought us on an impromptu hike through the woods and snapping pictures at the shore of the lake.

The loooo-ong drive back down 95, back to our home and back to work this week.  We're sleepy, inundated with emails, and toting suitcases crammed with half-folded laundry.

And even though they were all puffy-tailed, bored, and mewing when we came back home tonight, the cats survived.

Posted by Kerri Morrone Sparling at 10:55 PM | Permalink | Comments (9) | TrackBacks (0)

I am a Country Mouse.  It's an undisputed fact. 

I find considerable joy on the almost-desolate beaches of Napatree Point in my hometown.  I like hiking.  I loved the trails in St. John and the question of "Has anyone been this way before me?"  The idea of my own personal greenhouse or garden makes me grin.   

So finding such excitement and possibility in the cityscape of NYC is a completely new thing for me.

Last night, Chris and I visited Brooklyn and dined out with Chris's friend from high school, MT, and his fiance Melissa.  Their neighborhood is very cool and had a tangible sense of community.  There was something so comforting about the streets lined with what looked like Boston brownstones, neatly wedged together like books in a shelf.  Their apartment was roomy and cozy and was the first piece of livable real estate I've had the pleasure of visiting in the NYC area (as opposed to the breadbox apartments with cubbyholes renamed as second bedrooms and a kitchen not nearly big enough for my poor fat cat Abby to slide into). 

We had dinner at this terrific French place in Park Slope called Moutarde.  Chris and I have both grown up in decidedly Italian households, with pasta dinners and homemade gravy.  But after our second French meal in a week (first at Les Halles), Chris is now a self-proclaimed Francophile.  Chris had the salmon and I had the hanger steak and green beans -- and yes, we dipped into the crème brulée again. 

For the record, I started this meal at a tenuous 73 mg/dl, but thanks to some bread and a quick swig of orange juice, I hit the ground running at 157 mg/dl.  I would have remained under 180 if it hadn't been for that blasted crème brulée, which tossed me up to 212 mg/dl before a soft landing at 98 mg/dl later in the evening.   

Generally, I have my meal plan under control and I'm able to deftly avoid temptations.  (I've even trained myself to substitute green beans for potatoes, which is remarkable considering how much I'd love potatoes.)  But something about going out to dinner makes resistance tougher for me. 

Dessert?  Sure, I'll have some of that deliciously creamy, sugar-filled concoction.  Twice.  In one week.  In my foolish mind, being "out to dinner" means that it's a special occassion and it's okay to splurge.  But with the frequency we've been dining out and the holidays looming like fat pants on the horizon, I need to be more mindful of the calories I'm reeling in.  And with my Joslin appointment right after Thanksgiving, it's important that I'm on the ball.

Mmmm.  It would be great if the whole ball was made of crème brulée.  

(Apparently I'm a Country Mouse with a newly-cultivated sweet tooth.)

Posted by Kerri Morrone Sparling at 04:44 PM | Permalink | Comments (14) | TrackBacks (0)

Scene:  Friday night, post-workout.  Kerri's Thighs sigh, in unison,  leaning against the back of the movie theater seats as Kerri cuddled in to watch a movie. 

Left Thigh:  Oh man.  Thank goodness this girl is finally sitting down. 

Right Thigh:  (nodding in agreement, as best a thigh can)  No kidding.  That workout?  From last week?  I thought we were done with that.

Left Thigh:  Exactly!  She was whining about feeling sick, and trotting around with high blood sugars ... after that grueling first try last week, I figured we were pie-in-the-sky thighs.

Right Thigh:  What?

Left Thigh:  Pie-in-the ... never mind.

Right Thigh:  Dude, I can't even flex myself right now.  Box jumps?  What is she thinking?

Left Thigh:  The guy told her to do it.  (nods over to Chris, who is sitting next to Kerri in the theater)  He said it would be a good way to change up her workout.

Right Thigh:  (mocking Chris in a high-pitched voice)  Oh, I'm Chris!  I think it's a great idea for Kerri to try these sadistic exercises!  Maybe she'd like to be drawn and quartered next?

Left Thigh:  I have a plan.

Right Thigh:  (still speaking in high-pitched voice)  What is it?

Left Thigh:  Why are you still talking like that?

Right Thigh:  I don't know.  I can't stop.

Left Thigh:  (sighs a thigh-sized sigh)  Dude, all we have to do it wait until she goes to bed.  Then we clench up like those fist things and watch her have to crawl from bed in the morning.

Right Thigh:  Awesome!  That way she won't ever try to do that circuit workout again.  She'll go back to leaving us the hell alone.

Left Thigh:  So we're agreed?  Commence Operation Thwart?

Right Thigh:  Agreed. 

Right Thigh and Left Thigh: (in unison) To Operation Thwart! 

Kerri:  (whispering)  I can hear you guys.  And I'm doing the workout again, regardless of your stupid pact.  We have a wedding in six months, guys.  Six.  And I'll be damned if I don't make some improvements before then.  Get ready for more of this.  I don't care if you complain.  Now shut up so I can watch the rest of the movie.

Chris:  Are you talking to yourself again?

Right Thigh:  (still mocking Chris)  Are you talking to yourself again?

Kerri:  You are totally getting the infusion set next time.

Right Thigh:  (voice dropping back into range)  Damn.

Posted by Kerri Morrone Sparling at 09:12 AM | Permalink | Comments (13) | TrackBacks (0)

"Change your workout."

This is our mantra.  It applies to all things.  When Chris is feeling like he's not seeing good results at the gym, he changes his workout.  When I feel like my fiction writing is starting to become repetitive, I start the chapter fresh and start doodling on the notepad by my desk - "Change your workout."  When he and I feel like our lives are stuck in ruts, we mutter to one another "Time to change our workout."  (Yes, this is similar to the "Time to make the doughnuts," commercials from Dunkin' Donuts a few years ago.)

Change your workout to see results. 

So I was feeling completely bored at the gym.  Bored as in I changed the music on my Shuffle daily and I was still struggling to stay in the game for 50 minutes.  Felt like a hamster going around in the same wheel every day. 

"I'm bored at the gym."

"Time to change your workout."

A few days later ...

"I'm bored at the gym."

"Time to change your workout."

After I've mentioned my gym boredom a few (read: billion) times:

"Baby, I'm bored at the gym."

He stops as he's pulling his sweatshirt over his head.  "Kerri, I'm going to show you a few things at the gym today.  It's time to change your workout."

For the last few months, I've been doing a variation on this routine:

30 minutes on the treadmill on an incline of 7.5 and a speed of 3.8 mph.

20 minutes upstairs in the weight room, doing an ab workout that varied every three weeks.

This routine had me leaving my pump at home, kept my sugars relatively stable, and helped me reshape my body.  But now that I've reached a certain level of physical capability, the workout continued to keep my sugars stable and maintain my shape, but it didn't produce any new results.

So Chris showed me a routine that worked through a resistance training circuit quickly enough that it also became a cardiovasular routine.  When he was doing it, it looked relatively easy - intervals of jumping rope, box jumps, planks, push ups, lunge presses, and split squats.  Max reps on each one.

Ah, but it always looks easy when he does it.

I gave this circuit a whirl on Saturday and it was a disaster.  Maybe it was because I was starting to feel sick, or maybe because I had never done some of these exercises before, but I was in crisis mode the entire time.  My blood sugars were swinging (hitting highs of 300 mg/dl and settling back to 125 mg/dl), my balance was shaky (oh awkward Kerri), and my frustrations were mounting as I forced my reluctant body through the circuit three times.

The next day, I could barely walk.  The box jumps, coupled with the split squats, made my calves into mushy pockets of oatmeal.  I walked up the stairs to my office and my legs begged me repeatedly to take the damn elevator.  Using the bathroom was tricky, as my legs were so sore that I almost toppled directly into the toilet.

It was brutal.  And then I came down with a cold, as well as with a Sausage.  (Frigging cat.)  So I took another day off from the gym.

Last night, I gave it another go.  A few insulin tweaks.  And it was oh so slightly easier.  My body was not pleased with my decision to try it again, but I'm hoping that this workout change will show me more results instead of maintaining the progress I'd already made.

Hopefully tomorrow I don't fall into the toilet.

Posted by Kerri Morrone Sparling at 09:17 AM | Permalink | Comments (8) | TrackBacks (0)

I'm bored at the gym.

I am there, though, working hard at least five days a week.   (As opposed to the lady I saw there yesterday who was just sitting on the bike and watching tv.  She was there for a full 45 minutes.  Just sitting there.  Not pedaling.)  I hit the treadmill.  I'm on the stepper.  I'm trying to make sense of the elliptical machine without looking like Bill Murray in Lost in Translation.  (If you know where I can find a video clip of that, please let me know.  I've scoured the internet but came up with nothing.  And it's a very funny clip.)

The point is, I work out and push myself, but not as hard as I could be.  And I've reached a bit of a plateau.

It was at this moment of realization that the fictional phone rang.  (Ahem.)

Kerri:  Hello?

Larry Bird:  Kerri.  Hey!

Kerri:  Larry!  Oh my God, I haven't talked to you in ages.  What's up?  How's your weight?

LB:  Honestly, I've been up and down lately.  You know, all the cookouts in the summer and late nights out.  I'll tone back up this winter. 

Kerri:  Me, too.  I feel bored working out lately.  I've started changing my weight routine so that's more cardio-based, you know?  No breaks between sets.  It's exhausting!

LB:  Good move.  Tip from Chris?

Kerri:  Yeah.

LB:  I'm trying out pilates.  And yoga.  I'm feeling pretty Zen lately, Ker.  Soon I'll be back to practicing my three-point shots with my eyes closed.

Kerri:  Any suggestions on how to beat these workout doldrums, my friend?  I'm bored, dude.

LB:  Honestly?  I know you change your cardio workouts gently so you don't hit the hypos hard, but how about a new playlist for your shuffle?  Didn't you pick up a sweet shuffle from the AADE event?

Kerri:  That sounds good.  I've been listening to the Beastie Boys lately.  And mixing in some Arctic Monkeys.

LB:  Sometimes new music goes a long way.  How about some Kenny Rogers?  Man, I love me some Kenny Rogers.

Kerri:  He looks like my Spanish teacher from 8th grade.  But I'm not too into country music.

LB:  Well, find what works for you, Miss Kerri.  Whatever keeps you sticking with it.  I'll check in on you later.  Tell your mom I said hi.

Kerri:  Will do.  Thanks for calling, Larry.

LB:  No problem. 

Ah, Larry.  Thanks for seeing me through this bout with fitness fatigue. 

Posted by Kerri Morrone Sparling at 12:28 PM | Permalink | Comments (14) | TrackBacks (0)

Yesterday afternoon was crummy - I had a low that lasted for over three hours and I felt like that truck, chock-full o' penguins, had made another run through my body.  I managed a workout and trudged through two bottles of juice, holding steady at 74 mg/dl but feeling like I was teasing the edges of a low for hours.  (Yes, I should have skipped the workout, but I was feeling determined and, well, stupid.)

Later that night, exhausted and full of grape juice, I was finishing up some work in our home office.  I was feeling melancholy.  Moody, even. 

Then I saw her.

As though she had fallen asleep sitting up and had tumbled over, like a chubby man on a park bench. 

It struck me as so damn funny.  A laugh, louder than I expected, burst out of me.  I grabbed my ever-present camera and took a picture of my silly sleep Siah Sausage.

Funny how quickly that moodiness passed.  Thanks, Siah, for being a constant source of LOL.  (But don't think for a second that you can continue to torment Chris and I while we're sleeping.  You jumping all over our heads at 5:00 am is unacceptable.)

Posted by Kerri Morrone Sparling at 11:49 AM | Permalink | Comments (6) | TrackBacks (0)

I've been in a bit of a funk lately. 

Could be the work stress, could be the wedding chaos, could be the fact that Ms. Sausage won't stop putting her nose in my ear while I sleep.  (Thankfully, we've started sleeping with the bedroom door closed to keep her meddling paws out.  But every morning, when I open the door to go out into the living room, she's smushed against the bedroom door, eyes startled from the door being jerked open and puffy with the excitement of being able to follow me around.  Blasted cat.)

Holy digression.  Anyway, I needed to reclaim my glee last night.

My mission began at the gym. 

Nothing makes me feel more in control than a hard workout.  With my new iPod shuffle (thank you, AADE conference) blasting out some Beastie Boys, I forced myself to pop the treadmill to an incline of 12.5 and forced the thoughts of stress out of my mind.  I banished blogging to the back burner.  I tossed my article list for dLife out of my brain.  Wedding budget?  Deal with it later.

Solid cardio workout sent my stress packing - Bird woulda been proud.  Another 20 minutes of resistance training in the weight room again forced me to concentrate on my muscle movements (a challenge, as I'm not terribly coordinated) and didn't allow any room for chaotic thoughts.

As I walked out of the gym, I felt sweaty.  And strong.  My blood sugars held steady throughout the workout, starting at 102 mg/dl. popping up to 168 mg/dl (thanks to the swig of juice before I started cardio), and landing softly at 128 mg/dl. 

I'll be hitting the gym harder, to let off steam and try to be fitter for my wedding gown.  Physical exertion helps me.  I think I found a tap dancing studio near my house, so I plan on signing up for classes there, too.  (Have I mentioned that I was a tap dancer for over 15 years?  It was the only athletic thing I was ever good at.  Have I mentioned scoring a goal for the wrong team during a round-robin soccer tournament?  Case in point.) 

Chris and I are heading away for a relaxing, romantic weekend at the beginning of September, during which we will leave cell phones in the car and laptops at home.  Maybe I'll stop working on projects every night and start taking some time to relax. 

A little fun goes a long way.

One of my biggest obstacles in diabetes management - life management, I guess - is stress.  I let the littlest things make me nuts, and the even bigger problems send me into the stratosphere.  My EOS (End Of Summer) Resolution?  Better manage the stress in my life. 

How do you guys handle stress?  What's your EOS Resolution?

Posted by Kerri Morrone Sparling at 09:52 AM | Permalink | Comments (10) | TrackBacks (0)

After a whirlwind week of travel, eating sloppily, and missing a few crucial workouts, my blood sugars were in a tailspin of chaos and I needed to reign things in.

I grabbed my flashlight and sent out the Dexcom Signal. 

Help me, Dexcom!

Dexcom responded with a shrill cry and leapt from the box.  Within a few minutes, the sensor was making its first appearance on my outer thigh and I started the two hour calibration waiting game.  (And why do I always start this thing at ten o'clock at night, forcing me to be fussing around with diabetes toys at the stroke of midnight?)

As I prepared for Round Two as the Dexcom Warrior, I noticed that I was very particular about where I chose to pop in the sensor.  Last time, I wore the site on my abdomen and while it was accessible and easy to put in, it bumped up against every piece of clothing I wore and was visible underneath both my gym clothes and my work attire.  As someone who prefers to keep all diabetes hardware relatively quiet, I opted for a thigh site this time.

I inserted the sensor, which pinched a bit but not to the point where I clenched my teeth, and pulled out the needle, leaving the hub attached and the wire inserted.  (Yes, this sucker has a wire in there instead of a plastic cannula.  If I think about it too much, it makes my stomach feel a bit queasy, but I couldn't feel it at all when it was in there.)

With my pump infusion set on my right thigh and my Dexcom sensor on my left, I felt like some kind of diabetic pack mule.  My hips felt vulnerable, as though banging into any door jamb would send me into a robotic meltdown. 

My euphoria wasn't as intense for this second round of testing.  No Techno-Joy.  (Cannot access printer?  But it's here.) I wasn't obsessed with the new gadget, but instead treated it like it was "just another meter."  I traveled with the receiver in my purse and kept it on my desk while I worked, instead of forcing myself to keep it clipped to my clothes.  Not wearing the receiver felt liberating. 

I noticed it physically, though, while I was at the gym.  Lying on my side for an ab exercise, I felt my pump infusion set mashing against the floor.  When I flipped to work out the other side, the Dexcom sensor was pressed hard on the floor.  I remember back to when I had the sensor on my abdomen and I felt it pressing then for sit-ups.  While I appreciate the technology of this device, I would appreciate it even more if it were smaller and less intrusive.

For anyone who thinks the Dexcom results are supposed to perfectly match the glucose meter results, that's not going to happen.  While I had some very closely matching results, the Dexcom remained a bit higher, on the whole.  Like here:

This reading of 146 mg/dl was countered by my meter as 101 mg/dl.  Bit of a difference there.  But the trending I saw was spot on.  That 101 mg/dl (or 146 mg/dl according to Dexcom) was the upswing of a 72 mg/dl I had earlier in the morning. 

And then I watched as the correction for the 146 mg/dl brought me back town towards 120 mg/dl.  I like that positive reinforcement that my insulin is working and that my body is able to hold steady for a spell, despite the fact that I'm trying to compensate for a busted pancreas.

I gained a good feel for what times of the day I needed to pay more attention.  (Can anyone say "late afternoon snacking tendency"?)  I also noticed that wearing the site on my thigh instead of my abdomen made me less aware that I was sporting the site in the first place. 

Dexcom and I have parted ways once again, as I need to order more sensors.  Onward towards the weekend, where the Rhode Island Film Festival and a concert in Boston await!  See you Monday!

Posted by Kerri Morrone Sparling at 02:48 PM | Permalink | Comments (4) | TrackBacks (0)

I'm still not done with the Harry Potter book, but I only have about 200 pages left to go, so I'm getting there as fast as my tired, strained eyes can take me.   Working full-time and negotiating a number of side-projects has my reading time painfully limited.

Oh, but there's always the gym.

Chris and I are at the gym for about an hour every night, excluding most weekends.  Usually 33 minutes of cardio on a treadmill, stepper, or elliptical machine (sometimes doing 11 minute increments on each machine to mix it up a bit, or banging out the whole 33 in one swoop) and then about 15 - 20 minutes with resistance training and an ab workout.  My iPod, my meter, and my water bottle and I are a constant fixture at Undisclosed Gym, bouncing from machine to machine and occasionally singing out loud by accident.

But this week, not so much.

I'm the biggest geek of all time these days at the gym.  I have my water bottle, my meter, a bottle of juice, and a 750 page book balanced on the edge of the treadmill.  Forget the resistance training.  Forget any abdominal exercises.  I'm clutching the side of the seventh Harry Potter ... brick, really, and walking along for almost a full, joyful hour just so I can read the book.  I'm not willing to let the need to read supersede (whoa, holy rhyme time) my fitness goals.  And it's obvious that I have no shame and will bring the book to even the most meat-head of moments.

I can almost hear the guy behind me thinking out loud. 

"Why is that girl reading a dictionary at the gym?  And why the hell is she muttering happily to herself every few minutes?" 

In my mind, he nudges the guy next to him.  "Do you see this?"

"Dude, I so see it.  Maybe she's learning English and that's why she's readin' the dictionary and stuff." 

They high five.

And I keep reading.  And walking.  And hoping that I don't drop this massive book on my foot.

Larry would be proud.

Posted by Kerri Morrone Sparling at 09:15 AM | Permalink | Comments (12) | TrackBacks (0)

Item One:  Arching in as topic one (oh ha, the puns!), I will be at the Annual AADE meeting in St. Louis this year.  (My poor editor-in-chief is my travel companion.  I hope she doesn't mind when I'm half on the moon from xanax for my fear of flying and rambling on nonsense about my cat until the medication wears off.)  Will any of you be there?  I'm very excited to participate in this event as a member of the dLife team.  And I'm very excited to see the big ol' Arch. 

Item Two:  Back when we went rafting, the raft guides has some rogue kayakers who skipped ahead, perched themselves on the rocky sidewalls, and snapped photographs of the rafters as we passed by.  Here is how we rolled:

Item Three:  Wedding planning, though having taken a bit of a backseat to different work projects for both Chris and I, is in full swing.  We've booked our reception hall and nailed down our actual wedding date, so now it's time for all the other stuff - like the photographer, the church, dresses, and deciding how many flowers is really "too many."  Admittedly, I have no idea what I'm doing.  I have several books and have consulted with The Knot on several occasions (only to notice that my post about Oliver's gas was linked from their discussion boards - I laughed until I cried), but time is going by so quickly and I fear I'm falling behind. 

Our engagement party invitations came in, so that's all set to take place on August 18th (yay!), but aside from that, I'm sort of lost.  How exactly do you find a photographer?  (If anyone has any recommendations for a photographer in the RI area, I'd love to hear from you.)  How far in advance do you need to find a wedding dress?  How hard is it to wrangle all the bridesmaids into one style of dress or can I have varying styles along the same color theme?  How much wood would a woodchuck chuck, were he so inclined? 

Item Four:  Social networking is all over the place these days.  LinkedIn.  Twitter.  Facebook.  Ning networks.  MySpace.  Whoa.  (No, "whoa" isn't a social networking platform.  At least not yet.)  There are plenty of networking opportunities.  I'm sure there are plenty that I have no clue about.  Any new ones that you know about?

Item Five:  I don't know if you caught this link on my sidebar, but I want one of these in the worst way.  And I can't figure out why it appears to have a hand brake.  Bizarre indeed!

Posted by Kerri Morrone Sparling at 08:58 AM | Permalink | Comments (25) | TrackBacks (0)

I was completely terrified of getting on the raft.  Jenn (Chris's sister), Steve (her husband), Chris and I fastened on our life jackets.  Armed with a yellow helmet, a paddle, and a life vest, I looked like a Nintendo character and I felt like I was going off to war.  We carried the raft down to the edge of the Kennebec River and got ready to climb on.

"I don't know about this.  I am scared, dude."  I grabbed Chris by the arm and shot him a panicked look.  (I also briefly wondered why I called him "dude," but that's neither here nor there.)

"It's going to be fine.  Once we start, you'll love it.  I promise."  He rubbed my arm and we climbed into the boat.  Scott, our rafting guide, shouted to us from the back of the boat.

"Okay, so the pace-setters in the front," Chris and Steve took the front spots.  "And then file in behind them."  Jenn and I sat behind them and the other four rafters filed in behind us.  Eight rafters, one guide, and one jam-packed fanny pack filled with my meter, glucose tabs, tubes of cake gel, juice, and insulin pens. 

Two seconds into it, I was beside myself with fear.

About 30 seconds into it, I thought it was awesome.

And despite my terror, this whole trip was awesome.  I'm not the woodsy-type (contain your shock), so the idea of being out in the middle of class 4 or 5 rapids with nothing but a paddle in my hand and my legs locked against the center pontoons of the raft to keep me from falling out didn't sound terrific to me.  I was also worried about the diabetes-related implications.

But something about being in the middle of nowhere with water raging on either side and feeling scared, excited, and completely alive all at the same time was worth every damn second.

We stayed at the Northern Outdoors lodge in a cabin tent, so we camped out at night, cooked s'mores on the fire, and had the benefit of a bathhouse (read: cabin where there were flushable toilets) within walking distance.

We suited up in our wetsuits and conquered the Kennebec River (read: didn't fall out of the raft).

After our day on the raft, we went out and drank with our rafting guide.  Here he is, rather drunk, telling me that I wasn't the only diabetic he's seen on these rafting trips and dagnabit, I did it!

Diabetes-wise, this trip wasn't easy.  After spending the week reacclimating myself to Lantus and readying myself with insulin pens and syringes, I felt confident that my blood sugars would remain semi-stable.   My blood sugars were a little higher this past week, but nothing too obscene.   However, the anxiety and excitement of rafting sent my sugars skyrocketing, tossing me up into the 350 mg/dl range about halfway through the trip.  Thanks to the trusty insulin pens I brought with me, I came down quickly, but it was annoying to reach that peak (mainly because it made me have to pee and peeing in the woods is not my thing.  blech). 

After considering all the options, it was a good idea for me to stay off the pump for the trip.  I wasn't confident that it would remain dry, even if I had an aquapack or something similar.  Rolling pumpless allowed me to jump into the "swimming rapids," where we could swim in the class 2 rapids, let me leap off the raft when we were easing down the last part of the river, and I didn't have  that constant worry of "Is it okay?  Am I still connected?  Is it dry?"

My main (Maine?) concern was bringing enough reaction supplies.  Thanks to the terrific rafting guide and my traveling companions, there was enough cake gel on that raft to sponsor a Barbie birthday party.  Chris and Steve each had a tube in their pocket, I had three tubes on me, and the rafting guide had a stash of juice, cake gel, and an insulin pen in his dry pack. 

Testing on the boat proved to be a bit of a challenge.  I had my One Touch UltraMini encased in two plastic bags, so it remained mostly dry, but finding a moment to unearth it from within both bags, set up the strip, test, and keep things dry was tough.  I tested every 30 minutes or so, despite these conditions, and the Green Mini kept things controlled.  (Although the tampons would have been helpful from an absorption standpoint.  It was soggy on that damn raft.) 

I missed my pump terribly, though.  More on that tomorrow.  But pump and I have been reunited, I am now a white-water rafting veteran (or at least I can say I did it), and I'm looking forward to going again next summer. 

I DID IT.  I am quite proud of myself.  Diabetes be damned!

Posted by Kerri Morrone Sparling at 01:07 PM | Permalink | Comments (25) | TrackBacks (0)