Tuesday, July 17, 2012


If you know me, you know that I don't possess Grace in great quantity, for instance...

I rushed, rushed, rushed onto a train to New York City to meet Steve and Stephanie of LivingVertical for an afternoon of city bouldering. I hustled my way through the subway and emerged to see a text message relaying that my friends were running a little late. Luckily, we were meeting in Central Park. There are an abundance of benches and grass patches to plop down on. I was smart enough to bring a book for the train ride to keep me occupied without killing my battery, and I made a point to stop in Penn Station to pick up a bottle of Diet Coke for refreshment.

As I waited for my friends, I glanced at my ever faithful Eggy and he showed me something steady at around 100. On the train ride, I had suffered a mild low that I treated with a Clif Bar and I didn't want to have diabetes interfering with my afternoon. Just before I get a text from my friend telling me where they were at, I wake up from my reading fog (where the entire real world disappears) to the dreadful triple buzz at 62 mg/dl. My mind was still glazed with confusion as I hunted through my backpack for glucose tabs. I popped in 5 or 6 since my blood sugar was trending downward. My phone buzzed. I thought about asking them to meet me instead of walking the two blocks, but decided I was fine even though I was still trending down. Off I went (in the wrong direction, but I figured that out afterwards).

I smushed everything back into place in my bag. My wallet was stowed away secretly. My phone was resting safely in my pocket. I had Eggy in my left hand and the empty bottle in my right hand. I walked over to the nearest trashcan and paused with fuzzy questions of which way to walk down the sidewalk. Right then, I did it. I thoughtlessly and gracefully tossed Eggy in the trashcan while the plastic bottle remained firmly in my grasp. I paused. I gasped. I slapped my forehead, and then, perched up onto the ledge where the can sat. Almost thereeee with my hand stretched out. But not quite. The trashcan was large enough that I needed to hop and gently toss myself over the edge to be able to reach it. I managed to escape with just a little pain to my stomach from being gouged by the metal edge. I'm sure there were some very confused tourists snapping photos and whispering about the crazy chick in the trashcan. If they only knew half of the truth... Most importantly, Eggy survived without any impact/liquid damage or any squishy/sticky/gross residue.

Grace? I'm still hunting for that in the trash can I lost it in years ago (if I ever had it).