It was a perfect blood sugar. Absolutely perfect. 104 mg/dl.
Yet, as the meter beeped and the number showed on the screen, a muttered “mother fuck” escaped my lips. The irony of it all struck me, and I would have grinned if I wasn’t so busy planning my next move.
My blood sugar well over an hour earlier was 133 mg/dl, and I had thrown a Snickers candy bar AND a Pearson’s Nut Roll down the hatch.
I was about 45 minutes away from stepping on the basketball court, and I was just not high enough or heading in the right direction.
I had been struggling with running nasty lows during this evening basketball, and quite honestly I never really figured it out this year. Seemed like I was either running way too high, or fighting nasty lows. Both of those suck major donkey butt when trying to compete. Some other time I will go through all of the things I experimented with in search of the perfect recipe of variables.
I slammed down a can of Coke (leaded), brought a couple spares with me, and headed off to basketball.
As I was heading towards my car, chuckling to myself about being so upset about that “perfect” blood sugar, I knew I just had to blog about it.
The perfect blood sugar… for a fasting reading or post meal check. But not perfect at all for pre-exercise. It’s a great example of how everything in our lives is so relative.
There is so much more that goes into each and every minute of our existence.
