It's The Little Things That Count

When I was first diagnosed with diabetes in 2008, I was 5 foot 6 inches tall and weighed 168 pounds. I was put on oral medications. I started counting carbohydrate grams like my life depended on it (because I was convinced that it did). I started hitting the gym regularly. And six months later, I weighed 118. The weight had just melted off.

Nobody was more surprised than me. I went from a size 14 to a size 2. I was rocking long form-fitting sweaters and skinny jeans. And I was almost glad I was diabetic. But the diabetic nurse educators took one look at my tiny body and told me I was borderline underweight, not good at my age. And I stayed that way for five years.

Pushing Through

Few of us will ever run a marathon. Several years ago, I won a 5K run for women in my age range (coming within a hair's breadth of beating the first place male) and I'm still bragging about it. I haven't run competitively since because there's nowhere to go from there but down. And I get older every day that I stay alive.

My point is that running 27 miles is more than most of us are up to, especially as we age. People do it, but it takes a lot of training. It takes a lot of commitment of both time and energy. And it takes the willingness to push through the wall you hit when your body say "no." From what I understand, it's that last factor that really makes the difference. And that's the topic of today's post.

Taking Life In Bite-Sized Chunks

There are a couple of things you should probably know about me before reading this week's post. For starters, I never had a five-year plan or even a thirty-day commitment to much of anything. None of my marriages lasted. Before I took my current position, I had only had one job for more than two years. So my style has never been the old "plan your work and work your plan" mode. Yet somehow, I have stayed busy and productive and have achieved enough to impress myself and a few selected others.

Additionally, with the help of a couple of 12-step programs, I gave up mood- and mind-altering substances more than two decades ago and with the exception of a shot of Jack Daniels on one unfortunate occasion, that's been a successful process from the beginning. So what's my point?

When I was diagnosed with diabetes, I didn't set any goals. For good or ill, it's not the way I work. I just woke up the next morning and did what they suggested -- one day at a time.