Kick It

Got to class again last night, and signed up “for real” (which involved paying money! That I sort of had!).

Master T. asked about my med ID braclet, and I babbaled on about having type 1 and how I test before and after class, and I keep my emergency sugar right there by my water… I think some part of me was worried I was going to get the “I can’t have you here and be responsible if you pass out,” but you know, I already signed my wavier. Instead, he told me he has a student he does private lessons with who’s also a type 1 diabetic, which is why he asked. Which was kind of neat in a weird way.

I guess it felt good not to be the spokesperson for my weirdness. It’s like being “the feminist,” “the black friend,” “the gay friend,” and etc. You can only represent for one aspect of what makes you you for so long before you want to start waving your arms and saying, “I’m more than this! Yes, I’m this too, but there’s a huge load of things that go together! I don’t want to be The Diabetic!”

Overall, class went a lot, lot, lot better than the first one. I had a partner who was also new, and we spent less time grappling and more time working on stance and punching technique than we did last time. It turns out that I’d so internalized the “keep your hands up” mantra that I’d been holding my arm incorrectly before I punched and losing a huge amount of power.

I need a lot of work. I’m out of shape and, as ever, uncoordinated. Even after all my time at the other gym, picking this stuff up, all this body stuff, it’s not easy for me. It’s been a weakness of mine my whole life, and it’s one of those things I recognize but am really driven to making the best it can be. I may never be a tricky fighter, but I want to be better.

Physcially, I’m a lot more put together after this class than I was after the last one, too. Some of what’s killing me is biking half an hour out there and half an hour back. Riding back is a bitch.

And… I’m wondering how much my inability to move for two solid days after class last week also had something to do with having low sugar all night. If you’re at 45 for six hours after a 3 hour workout, your muscles aren’t exactly getting much of anything to repair themselves.

My dosing strategy worked out really well this time around. Without the dinner insulin, I was able to come home at 150, which is high, but I knew from the week before that I was going to crash at least 50 points overnight, so I refrained from dosing and set my alarm. The low sugar woke me up at 1:30 am, before the alarm, and I tested at 61. I ate some jellybeans and tested four hours later when I got up for the day at 74 (80’s a perfect number).

Not bad.

I’m feeling good enough that I think I’ll be able to make it to class on Tuesday. Bare minimum, I can start with once a week if I have to, but I’m hoping to keep at two classes a week regularly and maybe add another one on occasion when I’m feeling up to it.

Felt good to be out and about.

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