I impulsively decided to join a team for a new running event in Portland, Oregon, known as the 8 Track Relay—a 24-hour relay race combined with a music festival featuring a ‘70s theme. My only connection was a friend, Sarah, who had posted on social media that her team needed another member, even if it was just for one four-mile segment. I thought to myself, “I can handle four miles.”
When the Flying Funky Flamingos gathered for our team meeting, I found myself surrounded by seven fit women in their forties, casually discussing their latest marathons. The only reason I didn’t back out was due to their insistence that they weren’t focused on winning. “We’re just here to have a good time!” they chimed. Our captain took a poll on how many legs each Flamingo could commit to; I was the only one who signed up for just a single leg. Most of the team members were tackling four legs, totaling 16 miles.
I pulled the captain aside and casually mentioned my Type I diabetes. I didn’t need any special accommodations, just someone aware of my condition. She looked as if she had just seen a ghost, clearly unsure how to respond. With Type I diabetes, an improper balance of insulin can lead to high blood sugar, causing both immediate and long-term health issues. Too much insulin can result in dangerously low blood sugar, leading to confusion, mood swings, sweating, and, if not addressed, unconsciousness, seizures, or even death. I rely on an insulin pump and monitor my blood sugar levels about six times a day.
Exercise typically lowers blood sugar, making it particularly challenging to run with diabetes. It requires constant adjustments to insulin and food intake, along with careful monitoring. Consequently, I consider myself a casual runner; longer runs can be overwhelming.
As the clock struck 4 PM, my turn was approaching. I was anxious about not having time to apply anti-chafing cream in the sweltering 90-degree heat. Did I mention that extreme heat also tends to lower blood sugar? After conducting a glucose test, I found my levels were lower than ideal. I quickly consumed a few jelly beans and made my way to the handoff zone.
Squinting against the sun, I caught sight of my teammate in her bright pink shirt. She dashed towards me, passing the timing chip cleverly concealed in an 8-track cassette of “The Hustle.” I took off, feeling strong and energized.
However, halfway through the course, I hit a wall. The familiar shakiness crept into my arms and legs. I reached for a GU pack, forced it down, and immediately regretted not trying it beforehand; it tasted awful, and I feared I might throw up. I could barely manage a text to my teammates: “MILE 3, WALKING!” In reality, I was barely moving. A fellow runner checked in, “Are you OK?”
“Yup!” I fibbed, though my legs felt like jelly. I knew that if I sat down, I wouldn’t be able to get back up. If I kept moving, I risked passing out. My initial goal had been to maintain a mid-pack pace, but now I was mentally telling myself, “Just cross the finish line on your feet.”
Eventually, the GU began to work, and I managed a slow jog for the last quarter mile. I was the only one who understood that my less-than-stellar time was, in fact, a victory. I was still upright and ravenously consuming jelly beans stashed with a teammate, as if my life depended on it.
Determined to avoid being perceived as weak, I volunteered for a second leg, set to start around 1:30 AM. I stayed awake in my tent, checking my blood sugar every thirty minutes while nibbling on jelly beans to stabilize my levels. Around 1 AM, I headed to the relay area and was thrilled to see the Flamingos in second place overall.
Sarah came charging through. “Why are you running so fast?” I shouted as she handed me the 8-track tape. My blood sugar was stable, and I took off into the cool night air under a full moon, listening to Radiohead’s In Rainbows. It felt magical. At mile three, I texted the next runner to get ready. I finished with a personal record, the best runner’s high I’d ever experienced, and the pride of being the slowest member of the fastest women’s team at the inaugural 8 Track Relay.
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In summary, participating in the 8 Track Relay taught me valuable lessons about managing my diabetes while pushing my limits as a runner. Despite the challenges, the experience was rewarding, and I discovered that with the right mindset and preparation, I could achieve my goals, even among a competitive team.