While the article doesn’t mention it, Team Type 2 was also an entrant in RAAM. Team Type 2 finished in 7 days, 7 hours, 24 minutes.

Less than 2 weeks to NEC!

Hi
Wondering if there is any way to see if anyone is driving from the Jamaica Plain region or central Boston for the ride. I have no car and see the T does not run that early. Can obviously ride there… but would prefer to save the legs and butt!!
Looking forward to the ride!
Leisha

Day 1: Woburn MA to Durham NH

Day 2: Durham NH to Biddeford ME

Day 3:  Biddeford ME to Attitash NH

Day 4: Attitash NH to Montpelier VT (Route 302 all the way)

Day 5: Montpelier VT to Killington VT

Day 6: Killington VT to Rindge NH

Day 7 Rindge NH to Woburn MA

Do you prefer the aisle or the window?

I like the window, but I sit in the aisle because I need t use the bathroom a lot.

So led to a discussion which concluded with mother deciding that I should take my blood sugar. At the time I knew little about such things, or what numbers should appear magically on the little lcd screen after that infernal torture device was used to procure blood from my fingertip. As little as I knew, I could tell by the ghastly look on my mothers face, that the three little digits Two Seven Five, were indeed not the ones I should be seeing.

At this point you may be asking why the blood sugar reading at such a point, well it seems that drinking copious amounts of water, and the subsequent increase in urination, is actually the dictionary definition of Diabetes. In the three or four years my Mother had been taking her own blood sugar readings as a Type II diabetic she had never seen such a number, I had not eaten in 12 hours or so, and the number should be closer to 100. She went off for the morning and asked that I check again after breakfast, maybe it was a fluke… The Four Seven Zero blaring back off the screen after I ate was enough to require a visit to the ER. I settled for a trip to the Village Doctor, who confirmed my Mothers suspicions of Diabetes. It was strongly suggested, much to my dismay that I postpone/cancel my trip.

I spent the next few days eating no carbohydrates, and searching the internet relentlessly hoping to find another reason, any other reason for my elevated blood sugar, and increased urination. Why me, why now, as I searched for something else, could it be salmonella, the list of alternatives started to look worse, but other medical problems seemed to hold the hope of a cure, even cancer is something you can beat. I was hoping for anything but Type 1 diabetes, the one with those infernal shots, needles, insulin, Does it need to be refrigerated all the time, will I EVER be able to go to Thailand, can I ever travel on a whim, feel that freedom, or will I be tethered to a refrigerator for the rest of my life. A trip to a specialist and a quick voicemail recording later I was informed of my new best friend, Type 1 diabetes, overachiever diabetes lets say. A genetic disorder with no cure in sight, a lifelong disease with a list of possible complications that make Ebola seem like a quick and painless way to go.

Along with those stages of grief whatever they are, Disbelief, Anger, Acceptance, with a bunch of relapses in the middle, camp the inevitable “it could be worse”. Well you know it could, but what happened to you that was so bad today? The kid behind the counter at dunkin put in two sugars instead of one? Those words seem so hollow coming from people who aren’t in your shoes, who haven’t stared down that list of complications, who haven’t seen the freedom to dine freely taken away, people who have never looked at a chocolate chip cookie and though, you know I would love to eat that, BUT… I could get neuropathy from that, and have my foot amputated.

The first person to tell me “it could be worse” that didn’t make me want tell them to shut up, or curl up on the floor in the fetal position and cry, was John. There is something about being told that it could be worse, by a guy with his jaw partially wired shut, a rod in his thumb, four plates in his face, a torn acl, who is facing a surgery to have vertebrae fused in his neck that makes you step back and think for a minute. He was the first person I felt had the right to tell me that “It could be worse” he was living proof, and let me tell you I wasn’t far from being in his shoes as well because on a beautiful fateful day last October I was riding beside him when I heard the gut wrenching sound of him being hurled from his bike by that oncoming SUV, it was a sound I had heard only in the movies, a sound I didn’t believe a human body could make. But as I heard him say those words “it could be worse” it brought me back to standing over broken body on that beautiful day, face down in the roadway, unconscious and bleeding from his head. Thinking to myself, trying to remember what exactly were the last words we said to each other, thinking that I may have been the last person ever to speak to him, that I would have to hold onto those 15 minutes of cycling. Seeing John walking, talking, LIVING, after that, hearing him tell me “it could be worse” accompanied by a chuckle that only an optimist like John could possibly eek out through his wired jaw, I realized there was life with Diabetes. If a car couldn’t stop John, then a few pin pricks wouldn’t stop me.

Insulin doesn’t need to be refrigerated, and I WILL make it to Southeast asia very soon to ride motorcycles with Horizon.

I am doing quite well, Diabetes isn’t really slowing me down, there are days that are frustrating but all in all I am doing well. Thanks to all of you for your prayers and words of encouragement, and you can all thank my Mother that I am not lying dead in a tent in an Asian jungle with the authorities trying to decide what drug I overdosed on.

I will be riding in the Tour de Cure on June 6th I invite all of you to make a donation and help find a cure for this disease, or if you feel like torturing yourself, join me for a bike ride… Click here to visit my personal page.
If the text above does not appear as a clickable link, you can visit the web address:
http://main.diabetes.org/site/TR/TourdeCure/TDC019028030?px=4795879&pg=personal&fr_id=5565&et=T8b6joOwyX10kuAsgD4zow..&s_tafId=219086
Click here to view the team page for Ambidextrous
If the text above does not appear as a clickable link, you can visit the web address:
http://main.diabetes.org/site/TR/TourdeCure/TDC019028030?team_id=378298&pg=team&fr_id=5565&et=gP9GCnHuXrwZsy5bpACqQA..&s_tafId=219086

Peace,

Kevin

Now I had the tools, a medical confirmation letter to validate my condition and was allowed to travel with syringes. In Cincinnati, OH I remember driving a rental car and having blurred vision and didn’t know why. At the airport terminal I was dizzy, light headed with sweaty palms and shaky knees; after I sat on the ground and tested my sugars I was hypoglycemic at 56. I now believe this to be true, I am a diabetic.

After controlled experimentation; I asked physicians questions, read books, ate low glycemic index foods, exercised and took medications to control my sugars and live a normal life. Yes, I still get frustrated at times sticking myself in the stomach with needles and pricking my fingers but in the end the results speak for themselves.

With my weight at 232 lbs and my body fat at 28.2% it was time to lose some weight. I heard about the Joslin WAIT program and had a chance to meet a sports physiologist at the clinic to develop a training program to regain my health and prepare for the Tour de Cure ride in July. On July 11th I’ll start the New England Classic 550 Tour de Cure (www.diabetes.org/tour) and will cycle over seven days – 550 miles. For diabetes research, I plan to raise $2,000 dollars.

Thank you so much for your support, warm thoughts and contribution.
–Tom Adams, NEC 550 cyclist