I am a Type 1, insulin-dependent diabetic. I was diagnosed with diabetes at 9 years old – 25 years later, I have never been healthier. I credit a lot of that health to my running, as well as my love for cycling and hiking. This is my journey.
- Home
- About
- Cooking Challenge
- Diabetes and Pregnancy
- Coming clean…
- The life of a T-1 pregnant chick
- OJ uprising
- No puncture wounds allowed
- Panic at the porcelain
- Hot dogs? Are you freaking kidding me?
- 16 weeks: brisk and bulbous
- ‘Do you think you could be pregnant’
- Archie’s worst nightmare
- Hunchbacks of Diabeticland
- State of urine
- 19 weeks: the stubborn gene
- Cooking up a baby hiker
- Deja vu
- 22 weeks: numbers on a scale
- Hike of a lifetime
- Hitting a nerve
- Hiking the vacation away
- Run for Water: one year later
- Competitive juices boiling
- 24 weeks: counting down the days
- A princess perfect vintage
- She-Diabetic: hear me roar
- Never Eat Soggy Wieners my butt
- For the love of bling
- 26 weeks: Channeling Aretha
- Cirque du Soleil delivery
- Scatterbrained
- Insulin, insulin and more insulin
- 28 weeks: hakuna matata
- Tradition with a twist
- Likes and dislikes
- Wish upon a rainbow
- 30 weeks: tug of war
- Just call me ol’ Wonky Eye
- ‘She’s got the Jimmy legs!’
- ‘HOLY COW! There’s a baby in there!’
- 32 weeks: Non-stress my butt!
- Shades of a belly button
- Ask and you shall receive
- 34 weeks: Ye olde crawdad
- The big ‘C’
- UPDATE: Don’t you dare quit on me
- Hollywood knows best
- Going public
- Because I can
- The silver diaversary
- The loo chronicles
- For the love of Vespa
- The lasts
- 37 weeks: ready or not…
- TSAB 1 of 3: Blue moon
- TSAB 2 of 3: Hiccups
- TSAB 3 of 3: But what about the diabetes?
