Lisa is my sports psychologist. While she’s not a licensed mental health practitioner, she’s a good listener, asks probing questions, knows me pretty well, and has a basic philosophy I can get down with: “Snap out of it!”
So I kinda knew where the conversation was headed just after I started it while we were making dinner this evening.
“I need to talk to you about how I can feel better about my time today.” I ran a 22:57 at the Mayor’s Cup 5K race in Franklin Park, Boston.
“Well, it’s only about a minute off your best, right?” It’s true. I set my (most recent ten years) PR of 21:48 in Holliston over Memorial Day.
“And you weren’t that far behind your most recent race.” It’s true, in September I did 22:26. Of course, it’s on local roads that I’ve covered (easily) a hundred times, where I know each crack in the sidewalk, not to mention every uphill and downhill. But . . .
“But I know you feel like your times are going the wrong way.” It’s true. That’s part of it for sure.
“Today was a cross-country race, right?” Yeah. There was grass and mud and short, steep uphills and downhills to bomb and tight turns. It was glorious! At one point, a runner started to squeeze me toward a mud hole to keep her feet dry; a little (I mean tiny) shove from my arm kept everybody where they needed to be. I had forgotten how much I love the click-click-click sound of running spikes as they cross a road or cart path. But all that grass, mud, uphill/downhill, and turning certainly counts for a little time.
“It’s the diabetes, huh?” Yes. I couldn’t seem to bring my blood glucose down below 200 mg/dL (11 mmol) overnight, and it totally messed up my race-day plan. The plan was to lower my basal when I left home, eat a banana when I started to warm up, and run with happy BGs during the race. Instead, I left the house in the low-200s, got to the event in the mid-200s, and started the race at 318 (17.6). I ended up eating and bolusing for something small just before the start, but I was hungry and also a bit dehydrated from all the peeing that I’m sure was related to the highs.
“It’s tough, but you’ll get it figured out soon.” That’s my goal for this off-season. I want to learn how to run while eating and shooting insulin, but (honestly) it scares the bejeezus out of me. But nothing ventured, nothing gained; I’m just going to have to suck it up, eat something like what I hope to eat before a race or triathlon, and then go for a run. If I can’t really race over the winter, I can pretend.
“You’re too hard on yourself.” It’s so true. We all are in our little house. Well, maybe not the cat. He thinks he’s perfect.
Here are some pictures from my race today. As always, there are captions that you can see by clicking on an image, which also makes the pictures bigger. So why not start by clicking on the first and going through ‘em?