Type 1 life adventures
Around 9pm each night I try not to bruise my pin cushion stomach as I jab in what is now six units of Lantus. It’s usually my 4th injection for the day but this one is a slow acting type designed to keep my base levels steady rather than pretending to be my pancreas after food.
I figured I need to adjust the static amount to factor in increased activity and warmer weather. Lately my body has been demanding morning tea delights to counter blood glucose lows around 11am. I’ve also been waking up feeling pretty slammed so I suspect the roller coaster has been taking a few dips overnight.
A culinary tour de force is one way to combat these lows. But it seems counter intuitive to my mission of getting fit to be constantly shoving food in my gob to be able to exert myself. It’s more sensible for me to ride a little higher and push myself physically with less threat of hypos. And it all came together pretty nicely for Episode 2 of the Sundays in September Series.
I parked my car 34km from my couch in the centre of a figure eight that is the Jack Cann Reserve at Blackwood. On the bottom is the 9km Heritage River Loop Walk, while the 5km Whipstick Loop puts the head on the one fat lady. These walks in the Wombat State Forest are easy to navigate and are well arrow-signed. They can be traversed separately or as a big day out combo.
The tread of new shoes had me one-inch taller this week as I stepped first onto the Heritage path. Within a couple of minutes the live meditation soundtrack of birds and the Lerderderg River began to soothe my post-election blues. Do all birds think they can sing or is their talent variable?
The trees in there have been daring each other to test the philosophical riddle of whether trees falling in a forest can actually be heard. Many have fallen over the track to challenge the limbo and high jump skill of human walkers. Scrambling under and over these mini-obstacles along the ridge lines above the river felt more remote and intrepid than last week, even with the momentary blast from trail bike riders on the adjacent track.
I brushed against ferns as big as my bathroom and was towered over by the upright trees that were pushing to the sky. Many were still charred by fire. Others seem to have had their thick bark caught mid-motion while they were whizzing about when the wind changed and froze them, which is totally going to happen to my niece one day when she does that crazy-googly eyed thing. Random trees are like a shrine where the bark carpets their ground and hangs from the branches. It’s like the stuff has congregated after travelling far and wide to get to the spot where it is now barking up the right tree.
These walks showcase old alluvial mines and cut across parts of the Great Dividing Trail, which is on my TO DO list once I’ve got the gear and experience to tackle longer self-sufficient hikes. During the week I started checking out and compiling the list of what I need. Oh, how I will be dipping into the savings and garage selling…
For now, the new shoes are doing the trick. Tired but blister free and all toes with territory inside the wide Keens. I’ve realised one of the most important items to have is good undies. I don’t mean the pretty nice ones that nanna tells you to wear in case you get hit by a bus. I mean the ones that don’t ride up your bum when you’re carrying a pack that adjusts your pants. My other snippet of advice is to remove your sunglasses from your shirt or cleavage when you visit a compost toilet. It was a close call but the spirit of Jack Cann must have done me a favour.