It all started when I decided to have a snack (Fiber One Oats & Chocolate bar) in the afternoon. Dumbo me actually bolused for the whole bar (29 g) and I forgot to subtract the fiber for the net carbs, which seems to help me avoid lows on a regular, non-workout day. Also, I didn't disconnect Arnold until 30 minutes before the class. Last time, I disconnected an hour before, and even though I went for a half-mile walk beforehand to warm up my legs, I still didn't crash. So all these forces combined (like Captain Planet?) to have me at 83 mg/dL going south before the class according to Constance. I downed 5 glucose tabs as fast as I could, said a prayer, and hopped on the bike.
The class gets started. We warm up with our "leisurely stroll through the countryside", followed by sprint intervals. I checked Constance after the sprints and she said I was now 52 mg/dL heading southeast! I didn't hear her alarm over the blaring music, so I'm going to have to figure out a better scenario for having Constance in plain view rather than relying on hearing her. Frustrated, I threw my little bag down on the floor, almost to say, "Screw you, diabetes, I'm gonna keep spinning until I pass out." We start doing climbs in the standing position, and I notice that I almost lose my balance. "Hmmm, something must be wrong with this bike," I thought. Or your blood sugar, silly.
After the climbs the instructor told us to take a water break. Most people stay on the bike and keep pedaling while they grab their water from the holster below the handlebars. I finally got a level head and decide to jump off the bike and test. I could feel the 6 pairs of eyes on me all at once, but I had to do it for my own safety. By this point, Constance said I had leveled out to 55 mg/dL, so it seems my glucose tabs were finally kicking in. A test confirmed I was at 70 mg/dL, a little higher than my CGM. After that test, I felt confident enough that I could finish the rest of the 20 minutes of class. I jump back on the bike to finish out the class with some jumps.
The class ends, we stretch it out, I put my bike up, and walk back to the locker room to test my blood sugar again: 61 mg/dL. I eat 4 more glucose tabs, and call Trey, "Yeah, I'm gonna be a little while. I can't drive yet." With a mouth full of chalky remnants, I take a seat on the gym couches (really?! in the gym?) and wait out my low.
|I love having couches at my gym.|
At this point my instructor comes out of the locker rooms, and she stops to say how good I am doing for being so new to the class. "You're really keeping up with the rest of them," she smiles. "Thanks," I said back. "So, you're diabetic . . . " she inquires. "Yep, type 1." Then I go into how I wear an insulin pump and a CGM, the gizmo I was checking during class. She seemed to be comprehending what I was attempting to explain, and finished with, "Well, you're doing great, so keep it up."
Even though I completely wasted the calories that I burned with the amount of glucose tabs I ate, I know I'm doing more good for my leg muscles, lung capacity, and endurance. That's the positivity I'm clinging to right now, because if I focus on the fact that diabetes stole my calorie burn for the day I would never return to the gym. I know I'm building muscles that keep burning calories long after the workout is over, which increases my base metabolism. And I'll keep figuring out my insulin needs, and perhaps I'll forgo the insulin for the afternoon snack altogether. Either way, I can't give up on this. I won't give up on this!