Never Never Land

I think I have done such a good job of convincing myself that I can do anything with diabetes and that it will never stop me-- I surround myself with Diabetics who are conquering the world, I read the thoughts of those who are pushing the limits of what is possible, I talk with the experts who are pushing for us to go harder--- so much so that I forget entirely that I am sick. And I am sick. Sometimes, very sick.
I live a near normal life most of the time. Most people who know me have no idea I have this hidden life. The only people at work who know have been told so that in the case of an emergency someone will be able to tell the paramedics that the reason I am lying unconscience in front of a room of 11-year-old, terrified school children with a partially drunken juice box laying nearby is not because I am a passed out drunk, but because I have Diabetes. Most people I socialize with may have heard something about it, but really have no idea of what it means. They get the shooting up thing and they have some faint notion that either I caused it because I ate too much sugar as a kid (which, of course, I did) or that I now can't have any sugar. They have no idea how sick I am. I do a good job at keeping that under wraps.

Even with the diabetic friends I now have, I am always tempted to don the Good Diabetic face. I will

He's In

               Finally, after years of listening to the complaining, he's in.  He's one of them.  Every Saturday and Sunday in Encinitas (home of the tri) there are more bikers than cars.  And, accordingly, they do take up a lot of the road.  Each morning I would sit next to Tony in our car listening to him complain about having to share the road with the clippity-cloppers.  (derived from the latin, meaning to make way too much noise as one walks in to Starbucks still in ones clip-ons.)  He does have some reason to complain. We have had bikers pound on the side of our car and scream at us even though I was aware of their presence and gave them more than adequate room.  Some people think they need to educate the world.                            Most however are awesome.  Each morning they are a constant reminder that I need to put in a ride when I get home.  I look longingly at the tight, wind-tunnel designed clothes and wish that I could again commute to work. (With 2 kids to drop off at school and a 7 o'clock leave time it just wouldn't work. At least not this year.)

     Each time he complained, I would laugh and remind him that he would be eating his words when he finally got it.  When he became one of them.  Well, today is that day.  He may not have the bike yet; he is pounding the dirt in an old mountain bike.  He doesn't even have cages on his pedals.   But, last weekend he finished his first tri.  With the "I just want to finish" race out of the way, his sights are