Some days, my diabetes control is like a sleek, hot-pink BMX. It takes me for smooth, yet daring rides and lets me, in the words of Napoleon Dynamite "take it off some sweet jumps."

What's great is having several of those days in a row - as I've had lately. Only two or three bloodsugars out of range - and even those were mere blips - a 62, a 159... Nothing outrageous. That's when I start to get comfortable. I settle in for the ride, enjoy the air on those jumps.

Inevitably though, there comes the crash. My smooth ride dumps me - hard. Sometimes, the crash is rooted in an ill-maneuvered turn on my part - sometimes, it's the terrain, sometimes there's no explanation for it at all, it just happens. After three days of fabulous - though closely-watched - cruising, last night, I crashed. Face first.

After the gym and a healthy dinner, the unceremonious plummet began. 54 mg/dl - treatment (air in the tires), half hour later 52 mg/dl - more treatment (tightening the bolts), half hour later - 50 mg/dl even more treatment (twisting the hand grips). I finally gave up, set the alarm for an hour and a half later and went to bed. And when I did awaken - 48 mg/dl. At this point, I gave the bike a complete overhaul - read: I way over-treated in order to sleep without fearing I might have a convulsion. And when I pulled myself out of bed this morning, the aftermath of the overhaul lay in my wake - 232 mg/dl.

Today, I feel as if I went to the bar last night and downed a few thousand Long Island Iced Teas. While I was there I must also have sucked in several shots of Tequila - and eaten the worm. Even though I've reigned things in, my head is still pounding, my eyes and mouth feel like someone went after them with a hairdryer turned up as high as could be, and I just feel once-removed from the world. Moreover, I feel deflated - like I'm the girl with the sweet pink BMX who dumped - head over front wheel - on the first turn of the big race.

I know it's the way it goes. But it's frustrating. And I find that the smoother the ride preceding the crash, the deeper the impact of the crash feels - both physically and emotionally.

As my head aches and my eyes and mouth dry up like raisins in the sun, I beat myself up. I examine the numbers, maybe make guesses at what could have screwed up my perfect ride. Did I jerk the steering wheel? Or was there something, unseen, in my path? And I wonder why does this have to happen? And how am I supposed to maintain control when I can't anticipate the obstacle?

And then, I think, what exactly can I do to make my bike better, faster, smoother, and stronger? See, that's the key. Not ever giving up on the ride, or the jumps, just because you've crashed. The best BMX bikes are the ones that can take a crash - and the best riders are the ones who get up, brush off, and race on.

Tonight, I wish us all a safe, smooth ride and some really, really sweet jumps...