My alarm started playing a Resurrection hymn at 0600.

My eyes popped open. My body began its own wake up notifications – sore back, crick in the neck. Wakened from a deep sleep that had finally swept me away just a couple of hours earlier, I was exhausted.

A voice in the dark said “Wake up! You know you want to do this – you’ll be upset if you don’t go.”

I pushed out of bed. He was right

Last night, I set out the clothes I would wear for today’s 5k, along with the body glide and fanny pack. The new normal involved carrying my diabetic supplies at all times.

Three years ago, I ran a 10k on a Saturday…then turned around and ran a half marathon the very next day.

Today, I struggled to get motivated to run a 5k.

I choose to broaden my perspective- eight years ago, I was a couch potato. I didn’t pay any attention to what I ate, and I certainly didn’t exercise. Sure, I was 30 pounds overweight, but I had reached the age that my relative weight was much lighter than most of my peers.

Then I got a type 2 diagnosis. In the space of the next six years, I lost 30 pounds, and ran 21 half marathons, along with countless other races of shorter duration.

I’m back at square one, essentially. My insulin needs are a mysterious formula that ebb and flow with the effects of stress, hormones, illness, and the ever present diet choices. Type 1 diabetes is a completely different animal.

I got out of the car this morning determined to run the race.

I knew what I was capable of – I have already done much more than I ever thought I could.

It’s time to readjust, and persist.