I hate exercising. I should rephrase that. I hate typical exercise. You know what I mean. Stuff like lifting weights, stair steppers, treadmills, those scary machines, aerobics, jazzercise, and pretty much all the stuff you see at the typical "gym."

And that is the other part of it. Every gym in my neck of the woods feels like you can not enter until you are fit and trim. So yours truly who has a long way to go would feel very out of place until I was a total lean mean D machine.

Of course being a "born again diabetic" I know that exercise needs and should be a part of my daily routine. So how do I make the non-existent gym rat in my come out?

Simple, I find something that I actually like to do and run with that! (READ MORE)

This is not the post I intended to write this morning.

Today, I woke up to a fasting of 151, which is pretty darn good considering where I've been lately. I dressed for my morning walk, sat on the couch and ate what I'm now referring to as a snack--a small cup of yogurt, just 15 grams of carbs. It was all I needed to sustain me through my walk. I used to eat half of a peanut butter sandwich, but it's really hard to choke down that much dryness before the sun even comes up. But I digress.

I decided that with a fairly decent fasting, so few carbs and a 30-minute walk upon me that I didn't need to take any insulin. I mean, 15 grams of carbs! C'mon! (READ MORE)

Lately, I've spent much of my morning walk being pulled by a 90-lb., 11-month-old German Shepherd. Seeing as I walk so early in the morning--when it's still quite dark outside--I decided that yelling "Sarge! No! No! No!" isn't really the best thing. I don't want the few people who are awake at that hour to think someone is in distress. Well, I guess I sort of am in distress, but not the kind that requires police intervention! While I often welcome the push Sarge gives me to walk just a little faster, mostly it's annoying.

I typically look at the clock on the VCR as I'm walking out the door and it's usually the first thing I see when I gingerly open the front door upon my return. I like to see--and compare--how long it takes me to do my 1.57-mile walk. I'm averaging around 25 minutes lately. (READ MORE)

·On walking: For the first time in five days, I took my daily morning walk. Saturday and Sunday. And man did it feel good. However, I'm going to have to fire Sarge. Despite the new "anti-pull leash" my walking partner still just doesn't seem to respond to it nor my constant pulling on him. He was doing OK on Saturday, but on Sunday I got so angry that I made the final decision. The Mr. keeps telling me to try certain things, different tricks. And all I can say is "Tried it." "Tried it." "Tried it." I want to be able to take Sarge with me. In fact, I feel like I'll be naked without him on my walk. Not to mention scared without my 90-lb. bodyguard. (Maybe I'll take his leash for moral support!) But like I told The Mr., the more I have to stop to teach Sarge, the less my walk becomes about me. (READ MORE)

One winter evening, I had a reminder of how good I used to feel after a walk. It was freezing outside, but the walls of the house were closing in. The kids were screaming, there were dishes to be done, dinner to be made, everyone wanted something from me, but Super Mom needed a vacation.

"I'm taking the dog for a walk," I said to my husband.

Off I went, but not on my normal walking route. My intention was just to clear my head and to be alone. To just take a leisurely walk. But I could feel the drive to walk intensify. My sneakers pounded the pavement and that sound of rubber on asphalt and grinding sandy dirt under my shoes was all I could hear on that evening in my sleepy town.

Man, this feels good! I thought to myself.
Man, oh, man, does this ever feel good!

I walked farther and farther and kept going faster and faster. My face was freezing, my nose was running, but by God I wasn't stopping. (READ MORE)

Last year was the first time I had ever done any sort of "walk." I've never been involved with any fund raising before. Heck, I was not even into taking care of myself which is why I call my personal blog "the B.A.D. blog" with the BAD meaning "born again diabetic."

The team name I came up year last year was "Team Beat the Bete!" and take a look at the sweet logo and t-shirts we made!

Well I have decided once again to call the troops to join me in a walk this November to raise money for diabetes research and any other "diabeticy goodness" that the American Diabetes Association deems fit. (READ MORE)