The Real Kind of Climbing

I'm a fan of the "Better late than never!" attitude towards life and in that vein, here's a story from Thanksgiving.

My brief November jaunt up towards Massachusetts was filled with lots of excitement and entertainment even though the Monday before I drove up I was a mess (read: pulling an all-nighter).  I terrified the daylights out of my mom when I called her up on Tuesday morning because I couldn't find my car keys after packing up my "I look like I'm moving out for 2 weeks" luggage (turns out the couch cushions devoured them). The drive up was mostly innocuous. I only screamed at a dozen drivers on the way up, particularly in Connecticut (even after six years of living there, I have no patience for their drivers).

I was in a little bit of a hurry because I was on a mission to meet Steve! from LivingVertical!!! (yes, the exclamation points are very necessary). Scheduling is always a nightmare since I fill my schedule to the brim and he's a professional road trip-er with limitless destinations (figuratively and literally). We managed to figure out a few hours to climb a very accessible crag just south of Boston. 

The approach (aka the distance from where you park to where you climb) was the shortest and easiest I had ever seen. Usually there's at least a short hike involved that puts me a little out of breath but this was shorter, easier, and more scenic than a walk from a mall parking spot to the entrance. I arrived a little early so I scouted around the "little" rock jutting out from leaf carpeting without slipping too much. The place was perfect for some suburban climbing. Easily accessible from the highway. Lots of routes with diverse levels of difficulty  Readily usable natural anchors. Perfect in many ways.

Unfortunately, we hadn't quite planned for the lack of light (silly sun setting at 5pm) so we only manage to test one particular line and explore a little bouldering (aka climbing sans rope). I hadn't been out in the real outdoors or even in a climbing gym so I was a little stiff and holding on far too hard. Eventually I loosened up enough to make it about halfway up a route. Steve was kind enough to be patient and encouraging. Especially with the bouldering. Note, there are no rule to outdoor climbing. Up. Across. Go where the natural rock holds lead you. Just remember to be safe and to relax. Over gripping just ruins everything. The whole experience was nice except for when I feared I lost my new Dexcom receiver in the dark underbrush after only having had the gadget for about 2 weeks. Luckily, I'm just a spazzy space cadet with an over abundance of pockets to stash my essential goodies and safely located it before packed up and proceeded to storytelling by the cars.

Lessons I learned:

1. Falling is good... but having someone you trust to spot you is essential. Hopefully I'll experience more of that to get over my fear.
2. I am detail oriented over concise. Steve says "Kit" and I say "Applesauce+CGM"
3. Cleaning up after yourself. We saw some less than savory things out on the crag.
4. My compliments are not exactly complimentary...I may have told him he looked like a squirrel. At least I'm memorable, right?
5. Every little tweet, like, shout out brings warmth and joy to others. Let people know you're reading what their writing. Even if it's something small like "Love this." The interwebs are better when it's interactive.
   

The only photo I managed to get of Steve. 

If you want to see how meta the photo is, check out this.

My family's Thanksgiving dinner.

We insisted on having the neighbors over because there was no way to eat that much food.

I took leftovers that lasted for a week... 

Now, let's see if I can manage to be a little more timely with my next update of adventures...

Wordless Wednesday: Almost Untruths?

Tweet About My Last Few DBlogs

Deceptively Untrue to the Tweet

Highs! They happen!

Rollercoasters Bring More than Fear

This is a post I've been working on for a while...and despite that, I ask for your patience with the ungraceful writing. I just want to get this out. Shout. Shout. Shout it all out. Right?

I'm terrified of heights. Everyone wonders how I rock climb and enjoy the big metal rides of steel. Once I test my climbing anchors with a full lap, understand the safety mechanisms, and watch someone do it, the fear melts away like butter. Monkey see, Monkey do. (Goes very well with "See no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil." but I digress...)

When the rollercoaster changes in unexpected ways and my safety mechanisms don't work, I get very upset. When I was younger, I'd be able to tell a low was coming when I got to 75 mg/dl just by a little nudging feeling inside me with some light shaking and perspiring. In the last two years, I've become very dependent on my robotic paraphenalia aka my Dexcom Continuous Glucose Monitor aka Eggy.

This week I had a monster low. Eggy was unhelpful, because it was reading confuzzled with the ??? staring back at me. I didn't feel it. I didn't see it. I didn't hear it, taste it, or smell it. I didn't realize it at all until I stabbed my finger before leaving my apt to drive into school (PSA for the day: Always test before you drive). It. This crazed monster of the low bloodsugar variety. Hypoglycemia. The thing that makes every cell in my body silently scream without hope for a solution.

The signs change. The feelings. The nudges.

It started with some lethargy. A bout of nasty nasty depression question whether or not grad school was the wrong choice for me. Ensuing panic. Freezing cold.

All I knew was that I felt wrong. I felt unlike myself but I couldn't do anything about it. I felt this way (at varying levels) for at least 4 hours. I put my to-do-list on hold and seriously questioned one of the largest undertakings I've committed myself to accomplish. Graduate school is not something to undertake lightly kids. No tears. No screaming. No sweat. Just a quiet but persistent inquisition. I honestly believed I should just give up on everything I spent more than a third of my life on for a solid few hours.

I've come to expect lethargy and anger with a high. Not with a low. Lows are supposed to be urgent. Unseasonably warm. Loud. Metallic tasting. Making the energy inside me feel like I'm going to explode. like every little blood cell is bouncing off my capillaries vibrating and hunting for the last molecule of glucose.

Dear diabetes, it's not cool when you change the rules. It's not cool when you make me wonder if I'm me first or you first. It's not cool when I begin to question my sanity. It's not cool when I have to scrutinize my emotions and decisions for the lingering presence of sugar effects. Sometimes, I want my body to belong wholly to me and not to the monsters created by the absence of a single hormone: Insulin. Hear me RAWR. I won't let you take over my life like this.