Living Well With Diabetes

It was another sunny day in Salt Lake City. I couldn’t resist the 60-mile ride from my house out the the Great Salt Lake Marina. It’s a flat ride and about half of it is on the Interstate 80 frontage road (read: almost no traffic).

So, off I went at about noon. I wasn’t sure I had the fitness for a 60-mile ride, especially with the brisk 15 mile per hour headwind, but I was determined to get there.

By 2 PM, I was there. I expected the marina to be a pretty quiet place in February, but I was wrong. I could see a number of sailboats on the horizon.

After checking out the boats on the lake, I checked out the marina. I found this poster outside the restrooms:

After a half hour at the marina, I headed home…without any mice. I made the return 30-mile trip in an hour and a half. Ya gotta love a 15 mile an hour tailwind!

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Imagine this scene: It’s February. You’re in the mountains. You’re tromping through about a foot of snow. It’s a beautiful, sunny day. A slight breeze is keeping you cool and the sun above keeps you warm. You’re dressed in the best high-performance hiking gear you can afford: boots, gaiters, water-resistant pants, three moisture-wicking layers inside of a stout wind-resistant jacket. You’re comfortable and ready for any imaginable change in weather conditions.

Coming up the trail towards you are two other hikers out for a Saturday afternoon hike just like you are. Except they’re not wearing clothing anything like yours. In fact, they’re wearing barely anything at all. For a base layer, they have boxer shorts and boots. After that, they have, well, nothing. OK, actually, they have sunglasses and one guy has a hat; the other guy has a backpack, a substantial paunch, and dense layer of graying chest hair. Do any of those count as a layer?

Do you have that scene in your imagination? Good. Now you have in your mind a bit of the scene I encountered on my hike yesterday. It was an interesting scene, to say the least. But, it’s a free country, I guess, and if a person wants to go into the wilderness wearing nothing more than a loincloth, I guess you should be free to do that.

Since it is a free country, my custom for weekend hikes is to take our border collie, Pearl, with me along with plenty of extra clothes, water, and food. I guess years of living with diabetes has ingrained in my mind the need to be prepared for all eventualities.

Another custom of mine is to start my hike at home instead of driving to the trail head. I walked out the front door, down the street about a mile, through an off-leash park for dogs (Pearl’s favorite part) and then, finally, to the trail head for Grandeur Peak. From there, it’s up steeply towards the summit of Grandeur Peak.

We didn’t make it to the summit though. Pearl doesn’t have the fitness yet to attempt that. (Hey, that’s my story and I’m sticking to it.) We climbed about 3000 feet (the highest we’ve ascending on Grandeur Peak this winter!) and stopped to enjoy the view. I couldn’t possibly describe that scene in words, so here are some photos that I took:

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