If you told me three years ago that I would become a legitimate athlete who sets federation records in a real-life sport, I would’ve chuckled and thanked you for providing a funny little story I could retell at lunch that day. I have Type 1 diabetes. As of August 2009, I’ve set seven records in the World Powerlift Association, won the Vermont Bench Press competition and plan to work my way up to the “elite” level of powerlifting over the next couple years.
You might think that means I can tell you I’ve discovered the perfect solution for suceeding easily as a diabetic athlete, but the truth is: it’s hard work. Every single day. Some days, I don’t do it so well, high, low, high, low. Some days, I’m right on the ball. Every single day, however, I’m willing to do the best I can.
“The best I can” is such a vague phrase, I know, but my best on Tuesday may not be equal to my best on Thursday. That’s okay. That’s what I do know for sure: it’s not about perfection, it’s about persistence.
Living with diabetes and striving to be an athlete wasn’t an option I thought I had when I was diagnosed ten years ago, at the age of 13. No one ever said it aloud, but it felt like an unspoken assumption that people with diabetes don’t really become competitive athletes. Instead, they became diabetics. People with a disease who try not to get too sick. And that’s it.
I ignored the doctor’s raised eyebrows when I told him I’d begun training seriously with weights and a personal trainer. To him, I was just a diabetic. A diseased person.
To me it was simple, if I managed my diabetes well—not perfectly—but well, I would get stronger and stronger, and maybe I could compete someday, and maybe then, I could become more than just a person with a disease. Both the disease and the sport required the same daily commitment with a long-term outlook and long-term goals.
After two years of training diligently four to five days a week, I have watched my insulin needs cut in half—from 36 units of Lantus insulin per day to 18 units per day. I have gained about 15 pounds of muscle. I truly appreciate the difference between training on a day full of out-of-range blood sugars compared to a day of well-controlled blood sugars. I’ve studied my own body day in and day out to see what happens when I eat x-amount of carbs before training with weights and x-amount of carbs before going for a walk. I’ve played with low-carb and high-protein, high-carb and high-protein. I understand my body. I understand the disease.
There are still mysteries, yes. But this disease doesn’t scare me. I know what I have to do if I want to see “perfect” blood sugars all day, and I know what will happen when I ease up on managing it closely all day. It’s in my control. No doctor can define what I am or am not capable of accomplishing just because I have diabetes.
Ginger Vieira has had Type 1 diabetes for 10 years and writes for MyDiabetesCentral.com. She is a personal trainer, yoga instructor and powerlifter.
You might think that means I can tell you I’ve discovered the perfect solution for suceeding easily as a diabetic athlete, but the truth is: it’s hard work. Every single day. Some days, I don’t do it so well, high, low, high, low. Some days, I’m right on the ball. Every single day, however, I’m willing to do the best I can.
“The best I can” is such a vague phrase, I know, but my best on Tuesday may not be equal to my best on Thursday. That’s okay. That’s what I do know for sure: it’s not about perfection, it’s about persistence.
Living with diabetes and striving to be an athlete wasn’t an option I thought I had when I was diagnosed ten years ago, at the age of 13. No one ever said it aloud, but it felt like an unspoken assumption that people with diabetes don’t really become competitive athletes. Instead, they became diabetics. People with a disease who try not to get too sick. And that’s it.
I ignored the doctor’s raised eyebrows when I told him I’d begun training seriously with weights and a personal trainer. To him, I was just a diabetic. A diseased person.
To me it was simple, if I managed my diabetes well—not perfectly—but well, I would get stronger and stronger, and maybe I could compete someday, and maybe then, I could become more than just a person with a disease. Both the disease and the sport required the same daily commitment with a long-term outlook and long-term goals.
After two years of training diligently four to five days a week, I have watched my insulin needs cut in half—from 36 units of Lantus insulin per day to 18 units per day. I have gained about 15 pounds of muscle. I truly appreciate the difference between training on a day full of out-of-range blood sugars compared to a day of well-controlled blood sugars. I’ve studied my own body day in and day out to see what happens when I eat x-amount of carbs before training with weights and x-amount of carbs before going for a walk. I’ve played with low-carb and high-protein, high-carb and high-protein. I understand my body. I understand the disease.
There are still mysteries, yes. But this disease doesn’t scare me. I know what I have to do if I want to see “perfect” blood sugars all day, and I know what will happen when I ease up on managing it closely all day. It’s in my control. No doctor can define what I am or am not capable of accomplishing just because I have diabetes.
Ginger Vieira has had Type 1 diabetes for 10 years and writes for MyDiabetesCentral.com. She is a personal trainer, yoga instructor and powerlifter.
Thank you! Check out www.diabeteens.com any time.
-Ginger :)