Last week my husband saw an ad in our local newspaper for a free self-defense class at the hospital. He insisted that I go. I thought it would be a great way to learn how to defend myself, so I eagerly went along.

Last night as I prepared to walk out the door I realized I hadn't eaten dinner. I suspected that since the class was being taught by a martial arts instructor that there would be some physical fitness involved. I wondered if I should have a snack or at least test my sugar before I left, but in the back of my mind I knew I'd be OK since I had been eating rather poorly that afternoon (as usual).

We warmed up and started doing some kicks, punches and eye gauges. And I really felt like I was getting a workout. Not an intense, 30-minute cardio needed to really make a difference in blood sugar, but my heart rate was elevated and I was up and moving for nearly 90 minutes. Even though I knew I was high coming into the class, I continued to eye the snacks in the hallway and pay close attention to how I was feeling in case a low snuck up on me.

Something other than a low ambushed me, though. Our instructor was talking about the fight or flight instinct. He was telling us how an adrenaline dump when you're nervous and confronted by danger is actually beneficial because it can make you feel stronger and make pain hurt less. You feel a rush, he said, you get sweaty, it starts at the tip of your head and floods your body.

Hmph, I thought, sounds like a low to me. And then everything seemed to stop. Oh, geez! What if I go low while I'm being attacked? And that's when real life entered the room.