Skip to content

Posts tagged ‘exercise’

That Low, Though.

The low blood sugar hadn’t rooted firmly enough in my brain yet, but I knew something was wrong.  My feet were heavy against the treadmill belt, and I kept rewinding the show I was watching because the dialog wasn’t making much sense to me.

BEEEEP!  BEEEEP!  BEEEEEEEP! hollered my phone (aka surrogate Dexcom receiver) from the cupholder of the treadmill.

57 mg/dL with the pigeon head facing south.

Dexcom G5. Looks like a cute little pigeon who wants a hotdog until you realize, "Fuck – I'm really low." #diabetes

A photo posted by Kerri Sparling (@sixuntilme) on

“Oh hey,” I said, all casual, while my brain was throwing itself against the inside of my skull, shouting “That low, though!  Go get something to eaaaaaaaaat!”

Instead, I felt compelled to wait until the treadmill had reached an even number of minutes left (WHY?? This sort of compulsion happens regularly.) before I would head upstairs to grab a snack.

Upstairs, I walked through the living room into the kitchen, passing Chris, who asked, “You okay?” and I responded with a grunted, “Low.”

Reaching the fridge, I opened it up and grabbed the first thing I saw:  an already-opened juice box.  The straw was at the ready, making my fumbling fingers flex with relief.  Slightly dizzy and with the low blood sugar almost fully acknowledged by my mind, I drained what was left of the juice box.

Trouble is, the juice box had apparently been left in the desert to ferment and was then tucked back into the fridge.  The fizzy, nasty grape taste in my mouth woke my brain up completely, only urging me to throw up instead of deal with the hypo.  I ambled over to the sink and stood there, holding the edge of it, the breaking news ticker in my brain reading “DON’T PUKE DON’T PUKE.”

I didn’t puke.  

I chased the fermented juice box with some raisins.  I returned to my work out. I wondered briefly if I was somewhat drunk. This isn’t the first time this has happened, and it sure as hell won’t be the last.

Accountability.

We have a newly-minted kiddo.  That’s an established fact.  He is cleaned, fed, and loved all day long.

Here’s the problem:  I’m not cleaned, fed, or loved all day long.  It’s embarrassing to admit that, but it’s the truth.  I’m struggling hard with self-care.  And I also kind of buck up against even the admission of struggling with self-care, because parents in general are sometimes tsk, tsk‘d for putting their needs on the to do list at all.

But that oxygen mask metaphor that I used back when Birdy was born?  Applies to the little Guy, too.  I can’t take care of him, or her, or anyone if I’m off my own game.

Maybe I’m not off my game so much as I need to change the game.  Gone are the days of plotting and spreadsheeting fertility goals, and with them went the fastidious monitoring of blood sugars and doctor’s appointments.  It’s okay to loosen the reins a bit there, but I need to keep up some semblance of diabetes management.  Checking blood sugars?  On it.  Using the features of my insulin pump to my advantage, like inputting my blood sugar and carb intake and letting it calculate my insulin needs?  On it.  Keeping my CGM graph top of mind instead of succumbing to alarm fatigue?  I can do that, too.

But oh the exercise and food thing is a frigging quest.  Uphill.  In the snow.  With that Sisyphus ball thing.

I thrive when held accountable, and I need accountability in order to reignite some healthier habits.  There was a short discussion about this on Facebook last week, which led to the creation of a small Accountabilibetes group, where we’re trying to help one another stick with some kind of exercise program, and that camaraderie has been a big boost.  Even though the weather has been fuck all cold (snowed last night), I’ve been back on the treadmill the last few days, easing in with some interval training that’s heavy on the incline and gentler on the speed for now.  (I’ve started watching The West Wing, which I’ve never, ever seen even an episode of before.  Now I have seven seasons of Sorkin-saturated dialog to work through.  Should keep me entertained throughout the winter treadmill months.)  A fully-charged Fitbit helps, too, as I’ve avoided that thing for the last 12 months as well. As far as food goes, improved food choices usually follow exercise for me, so I know that I’ll battle food temptations less when I’m physically active.

So far, it’s only been a few days, but I’m hoping that a few more days will wet cement these habits.  Once that mental cement sets, I’ll be in my pre-pregnancy planning circuit and my health overall will improve.  Right?  RIIIIIIIIIIIGHT.

Before that cement dries, I need to stick my finger in it and write “It’s worth it.”  And maybe also draw a cat out of the word “cat.”

FitBit Motivation.

I like my FitBit.  I’ve been using one since March of last year and it has consistently kept me motivated to keep moving.

… okay, let me check that for a second.

It’s not the device itself that keeps me on the move. Initially, I liked seeing the numbers climb on my step count and watching that ticker drove me to earn higher numbers.  It was a stark mental contrast to how I felt about my diabetes numbers, where I was aiming for more of a game of golf (bring that number DOWN, not UP).  FitBit was cool because the higher the number, the better.

Eventually, the newness of the self-tracking incentive wore off and I wasn’t as eager to fight to hit my step goal.  I still exercised daily, but with a little less oomph, if that makes sense.

What reinvigorated my motivation are the people I’m interacting with through the FitBit community.  And this is where diabetes intersects a bit, because most of the people I’m connecting with through FitBit are friends from the DOC (diabetes online community).

One of the things I like most about the FitBit are the challenges you can engage in.  Here’s a screenshot of what’s available (over there on the right) –>

The ones I like the most are Workweek Hustles, because you have five days to not only reach your own self-set goals, but you can pace yourself against friends, making it a friendly competition.  As the FitBit devices sync with the app, you can watch your step count climb and see which participant will come in “first” (with the most steps).

Dude, it is FUN to play and to flex my competitive muscle.  (I’m a little bit competitive.  Maybe more than a little bit, judging by my husband’s bemused raised eyebrow every time I go to use the treadmill at 9 pm.  “FitBit challenge again?”  “Yep.”  “Go get ’em.”)  And while exercise isn’t something I’ve ever shied away from, it’s more exciting when I’m held accountable.  If I’m in first place, there’s no way I’m going to skip a workout or avoid going for a walk or run, because I want to keep my foothold on that leader board.

These competitions play out awesomely for my blood sugars, if I stay on top of things.  Making an effort to move more during the day has brought my total daily doses of insulin down by more than 20%, which for me is quite a bit.  (Also, this is not medical advice or science of any kind.  Talk with your doctor if you are considering taking anything you read on the Internet as medical advice, because they are a doctor.  And I am simply an over-caffeinated FitBit addict.)

More importantly, I noticed that my activity level goes up significantly when I’m engaged in a FitBit challenge.  If there’s a competition to participate in, reaching my step goal of 12,000 steps per day is a piece of (gluten-free) cake.  It’s like having a dozen workout buddies.  (Read Laddie’s take on the challenges here.)

FitBit challenges are pretty freaking awesome.  And fun.  And help break up some of the mundane ho-hummishness that my exercise routine can fall into.  A dose a fun, friendly competition and accountability is exactly the gentle incentive I needed.

Bike Ride.

In one, frantic breath as we prepared to go for a bike ride, Birdy proclaims:

“We need to put a bottle of water in the bike basket and a snack in case I get hungry and a snack in case you get hungry or if you have a low blood sugar and your glucose meter and the glucose tabs in case you have a low blood sugar for real and in case I want to have one – that’s a joke, Mom, but really I can have a teeny, teeny bite if I want one, right? – and I will wear my helmet and you can walk while I ride on my bike and I’ll keep my eyes forward so I don’t fall off.”

Our version of “going for a bike ride” might sound complicated, but we do our thing and we do it well.

Tuning Back In.

Feeling crummy is a slippery slope for me, in that acknowledging it is a healthy move, but if I cater to it, I’ll get sucked down the rabbit hole of feeling overwhelmingly crummy.  I’m not even sure that makes sense when you read it, but it does to me, so there it stays.

Three years ago, I went through a pronounced emotional slump and it was not my favorite time in life.  I am not interested in going back to that place, emotionally or physically, so I’m attempting to head it off at the pass.

Things That Help Immediately:

Exercising.  Sounds so simple, because it is, but it helps.  Being outside, either walking or running, helps my brain.  It makes me feel better.  Sitting around all day long and staring at my computer trying to make the writing thing happen doesn’t do much for me, but going for a run jogs my brain (ha – weak pun but a pun all the same) back into gear.  It’s like I physically require 10,000 steps in the day before my mind decides to get creative again.  Which is fine by me.

Paying Attention to Food.  When I’m in a crappy mood, I will drink coffee all day and maybe have a protein bar, but that’s it.  And that sucks, because my body needs more diversity/nutrients/how about a hard-boiled egg, motherfucker.  Cooking hasn’t ever been something I’ve enjoyed, but I’ve always liked eating well, and looking back at a day’s worth of food that isn’t dominated by iced coffee and the random Luna bar is a plus.  The better the food, the better I feel.

Engaging in the Moment.  I have a tendency to get tangled up in the to do lists in my mind, and the things I haven’t done yet eat away at me.  To the point of anxiety, which is ridiculous, because so many of those to dos are fun and things I like, yet they’re still stressing me out?  No, no, no.  When I’m on the slippery slope towards Crumbdom, I don’t enjoy the moments I’m in, but instead I fret about the shit I haven’t accomplished yet.  Again: no, no, no.  It helps if I make the conscious decision to ease up a little, like going to the zoo with Birdy instead of staying home and freaking out.  It also helps to hug my kid, and my husband, and the cats.  They are all warm and snuggly creatures, and they make me feel good.

I’m glad there are things I can do to help feel better, to shake off the ennui.  I feel better when I’m doing something, and best when that something involves my family.  I can’t change all of the things that are weighing heavily, but I can refocus on the things that bring me joy, damn it.

Follow

Get every new post delivered to your Inbox

Join other followers