I made a spur-of-the-moment decision to join a team for a new running event in Portland, Oregon, known as the 8 Track Relay—a 24-hour relay race paired with a lively music festival that embraced a ’70s vibe. My only connection was with a friend, Jenna, who had posted on social media, looking for additional team members, even if it was just for a single four-mile segment. I thought to myself, “I can handle four miles.”
When the Flying Pink Flamingos convened, I found myself surrounded by a group of seven incredibly fit women in their forties, energetically discussing their latest marathon experiences. The only thing that kept me from bolting was their insistence that victory wasn’t their goal. “We just want to have a good time!” they chirped with enthusiasm. Our team captain took a quick survey of how many four-mile legs each Flamingo could commit to, and I was the only one who signed up for just one. Most of the team members were tackling four legs, racking up a total of 16 miles.
I pulled the captain aside to casually mention my diabetes condition. I didn’t need her to do anything special, just to be aware. Her reaction was a mix of surprise and concern, as if I had just disclosed a deep secret. With Type I diabetes, insufficient insulin can send blood sugar levels soaring, leading to both immediate and long-term health issues. Conversely, too much insulin can drop blood sugar levels too low, resulting in confusion, mood swings, and—if left untreated—serious consequences like loss of consciousness or seizures. I rely on an insulin pump around the clock and check my levels about six times daily.
Running with diabetes is no cakewalk; it necessitates constant adjustments in insulin, food intake, and monitoring. As a result, I typically only run casually—longer distances feel like a daunting task.
Fast forward to 4 PM, and it was almost time for my leg to begin. I was anxious about not having enough time to return to our camp and apply some chafing cream before hitting the course in the sweltering 90-degree heat. Did I mention that extreme heat can lower blood sugar? I checked my glucose and found it was lower than I preferred. I quickly grabbed a few jelly beans and headed to the handoff zone.
I squinted and saw my teammate in her vibrant pink shirt approaching. She sprinted towards me, handing off the timing chip, cleverly hidden in an 8-track tape of “The Hustle.” I took off with strong legs and lungs.
But halfway through the course, things took a turn. I felt the familiar tremors of low blood sugar in my arms and legs. I reached for a GU pack, downing it hastily, and then scolded myself for relying on something I hadn’t tested before. The taste was horrendous, and I suddenly felt nauseous.
It took all my effort to send a text to my teammates: MILE 3, WALKING. But in truth, I was barely walking. A passing runner checked in with me, “You alright?” “Yup!” I fibbed. My legs were shaking. If I sat down, I knew I wouldn’t get back up. If I pressed on, I risked passing out. My initial goal had been to keep a mid-pack pace, but now I was whispering fiercely to myself, “Cross that finish line on your feet.”
Finally, the GU kicked in, and I managed a slow jog for the last quarter mile. Only I knew that my disappointing time was actually a personal victory. I was still upright—and devouring jelly beans stashed with a teammate as if they were a lifeline.
Determined not to be seen as the weak link, I volunteered for a second leg, scheduled to start around 1:30 AM. I stayed awake in my tent, checking my blood sugar every thirty minutes and munching on jelly beans to keep it steady. Around 1 AM, I made my way to the relay area and checked the leaderboard, shocked to find the Flamingos in second place overall.
Jenna came barreling through like a whirlwind. “What’s with the speed?” I shouted as she slapped the 8-track tape into my hands. My blood sugar was stable, and I sprinted through the course in the cool night air under a luminous full moon while listening to Radiohead’s In Rainbows. It felt like magic. At mile three, I texted the next runner to get ready. I crossed the finish line with a personal record, experiencing the best runner’s high of my life, and earned the title of the slowest member on the fastest women’s team at the inaugural 8 Track Relay Race.
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Summary
In a spontaneous decision, I joined a relay team for a 24-hour race in Portland, where I faced challenges related to my diabetes but triumphed against the odds. The experience not only tested my physical limits but also provided a unique sense of accomplishment within a lively and competitive environment.
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