I chanted: Iwillgetupinthemorning. Iwillgetupinthemorning. Iwillgetupinthemorning.

I got up on time.

I did not go back to sleep. (Monday is easy, surprisingly.)

I left on time.

I did not freeze in the 45 degrees.

I pushed.

I coached.

I encouraged.

I praised.

I wondered where the Drill Sergeant was.

I looked for the coyote I've seen three times.

I was surprised my muscles didn't ache.

I praised.

I encouraged.

I walked for the first time in two weeks.

I breathed the cold air in deeply.

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It's said that (for those of us with full visual faculties) we process something like 80% of what we learn visually. Color-coding, shading and graphs are some ways of marking differences between between values and degrees of value, helping us digest large amounts of complex information in a single glance. Consider the political map, with each country, state, county, or other subdivision in a different color. "Red" states and "blue" states. Degrees of obesity per state. And so on.

Consider the color-coded diagram of the human digestive system. Red stomach, yellow intestines, pink colon, green gallbladder, brown liver. What color is your pancreas? Do you want to color it in World Diabetes Day blue to indicate yours has died?

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As an engineer by training, I find quantitative analysis -- numbers -- an expression of control. Self control, exercise, body function, health and illness... So while I'm fortunate enough not to have to be "Bionic Betty" with a peripheral pancreas, I still refer regularly to six separate instruments, plus additional Web-based resources, to manage my food intake, exercise output, and biometric information.

Weight. Some folk say weighing once a week is enough, but I find that if I don't weigh in every morning, my weight can go off on very health-unfriendly curves. I log my weight both in The Daily Plate and in my personal Excel workbook.

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"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.

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That's right, after LOWERING my dosage of metformin (generic glucophage) six months ago; my HbA1C went DOWN to 5.5 from 5.8.  Yes, I brought my average blood sugars DOWN by reducing my medication and increasing my cardio and strength training.  It's only a decrease of about 8 mg/dl but that's an average over 24/7.  AND I went from 2000 mg metformin to 1500 mg.   I know "they" say it can and should work that way, but I'm the first to admit I didn't believe it.  (Or that was my excuse for not trying harder).

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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.

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