As a long-term volunteer at Mile 20 of the New York City Marathon, I have seen many things that runners will do, or put themselves through, to get their bodies through that distance en route to the 26 miles and some odd yards of a marathon. Blisters, cramps, and bleeding are part and parcel for the course. So are dehydration, overhydration, and electrolyte depletion. At Mile 20, most runners visiting the medical station want a quick massage or some Vaseline® before heading back out on the course. While a few runners do drop out, most of those are able to wait for the "sweep bus" to carry them back to the finish line. Exceedingly few runners who require medical aid this far along the course need to be ambulanced out.

  (READ MORE)

I am a firm believer in goals. Without striving towards something I lose focus. I need to have that bell to ring, button to push, or number to reach to motivate myself.

Currently I am working on losing 40 pounds. I put up a spot on my blog that is titled "Where's the 40?" and beneath it I post a picture of the number I am at in relation to the 40 pounds. Right now I am still in the high 30's but seeing that number motivates me. It gets me to want to make changes so that number changes, and so I will reach my goal.

For some, knowing that your health will be improved and you will hopefully live longer are good enough reasons. Those alone motivate. For some odd, very strange reason, that is not enough for me. Or maybe I should say, that these things to not seem real enough for me. I need a goal I can reach in the next few months so I can say "I've done it" and prepare myself for the next goal. (READ MORE)

"You know," I said to The Mr. this morning as I sat on the bed putting on makeup and getting ready for work, "it's really hard to get out of bed in the morning when we're snuggling."

He smiled and I leaned over to kiss him.

"It is nice, isn't it?" he said. "But you got up and left anyway."

"Well, I wanted to make sure I got to walk this morning because I'm not sure I'll be able to go tomorrow," I said. The Mr. looked at me confusedly. "They're calling for rain. And the high is only 63. It's going to be cold and wet," I argued.

  (READ MORE)

I went to the doctor about my leg again yesterday. A different one. One that I feel much more comfortable with in the whole scheme of things. She seemed confident, personable, and concerned. They asked about my blood sugars, about what had been going on, and all that jazz.

And she believes that the infection is probably from a spider bite that turned into MRSA. Yep, MRSA. The big, scary staph infection. So now I'm sincerely hoping the new course of antibiotics kicks in soon. Because I'm totally run down in body and soul with this whole thing. I'm so exhausted, but can't sleep. I'm in pain. I'm annoyed.

  (READ MORE)

It has been increasingly difficult to get out of bed lately for my morning walk. And even though I feel fabulous after a walk and I know ahead of time how good a walk makes me feel, it’s still been easier to continue to hit snooze or to get back in bed or to blame my sugar level. And I feel guilty for a host of reasons.
 

I haven’t heard from my Drill Sergeant much lately. I haven’t heard that nagging voice screaming at me to get my butt out of bed already. And even on the days when I do walk I haven’t heard the don’t-give-up-now-you’re-almost-there speech. Not even a wimper. I think the Drill Sergeant likes staying in bed, too.

  (READ MORE)

I’ve really been beating myself up the last couple months about my blood sugar and the amount of insulin I’m taking. I keep seeing both creep up and keep thinking that I’m just not doing enough or being aggressive enough to manage my blood sugar.
 

Yes, I don’t have the healthiest of diets, but I really thought that with more aggressive bolusing and more testing that I should have been seeing better numbers. But I wasn’t. And I kept feeling worse and worse about what was going on with me.
 

I had an endo appointment earlier this week where K (the physician assistant who I’ve connected with much better than Dr. R) kept saying that overall my numbers are just too high. Well, duh, I kept thinking. And continued to blame myself.
  (READ MORE)