It looks like this:
I don’t how many test strips are in that pile, but I know it’s five months worth of finger sticks during training. Most days, diabetes plays nice, but when it doesn’t, it’s often fiercely uncooperative. I’ve spent the last few months detailing diabetes in a way I never imagined. It’s made me a better athlete, and it’s helped me understand my body in a new way. I’m going into Sunday with a very detailed and strategic nutrition and insulin plan, praying for minimal adrenaline spikes and a great day of numbers. I’ve worked too hard for diabetes to steal the show now.
You know what else training looks like? It looks like this:
It looks like amazing friends that support you and love you. It looks like a network of people who offer grace when your training life takes over your social life. It looks like friends willing to run and bike and swim with you, and even some who help teach you how to swim. It looks like friends who ask about diabetes and try to understand the method behind the madness. It looks like friends willing to wait for for you when you have a low, and friends willing to reschedule when you’re high. It looks like friends who are faster and stronger and challenge you and co-workers and bosses that let you work flexible hours to fit in training times. It looks likes friends who encourage you, love you and support you through one of the most fun yet challenging seasons of life. And it looks like a family that champions you to dream, supports you throughout the journey and calls to tell you everyone in their tiny country church is praying for you. I am so, so, so grateful for these people and for the many more I don’t have pictures of. You don’t do a 70.3 alone; you do it with the help, love and support of the people in your life. No matter what happens Sunday, I still get to come home to these beautiful people. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart.