I’ve been mucking about with video creation at the moment and here’s one I made for the diabetes diet. Stephen Spielberg has nothing to fear, but it’s a start, right?
We’re just back from Crete and enthused with the joys of extra virgin olive oil (EVOO). Yes, readers, splash it everywhere with gay abandon just as the Cretans do.
The island’s average inhabitant consumes 36 litres of the stuff every year—more than any other nation in the world. Even the Italians, also fond of the EVOO, manage only ten litres of it and they are the third highest consumers.
Does it have implications for we sugar-challenged folks? The factory I visited while there had a sign claiming health benefits for sufferers of all kinds of things, including type 2 diabetes. The Cretans produce mainly EVOO (and they harvest the olives by hand rather than machine), and they don’t bother with the ‘rule’ that you only use it for salads or to dress vegetables. They stick it in marinades, cook with it and even use it to deep-fry chips.
In the Mediterranean region where olive oil is the main dietary fat, there are lower levels of deaths from cardiovascular disease. A Medicine News Today article also claimed positive benefits for stroke risk, breast cancer, liver protection, Alzheimer’s, ulcerative colitis, acute pancreatitis, maintenance of healthy cholesterol levels and even depression. [The article quoted from different studies, all of which used the words ‘appear to’.]
Anyone with diabetes has an increased risk of all the above conditions. The so-called Mediterranean ‘diet’ isn’t that dissimilar from the low-carb diet we promote. Broadly, eat tonnes of vegetables, some fruits preferably berries, plenty of fish, full-fat dairy, some beans and pulses if you can tolerate them and dress your salad and veggies with plenty of olive oil*.
Apart from the health benefits, a decent splash of EVOO does miraculous things. Steam some broccoli and then finish it off in the pan frying it with olive oil, thin slices of garlic and sea salt and you get to eat something that is three hundred times nicer than the boiled stuff.
And naturally a Greek salad needs the stuff… the best ones are simple. Large chunks of cucumber (peeled for purists) and tomatoes, black olives, thin slices of red onion and topped with a slab of feta cheese, plenty of salt and pepper and a generous drizzle of EVOO.
Sadly, because we’d opted for the hand luggage only flight, we could only bring back a 100ml bottle. One of the big issues with olive oil, and especially the extra virgin variety, is fraud. Most olive oil distribution is done through Italy, including the Cretan stuff. Investigations in recent years have uncovered wide-scale issues where virgin olive oil is passed off as extra virgin. There have even been cases where the oil was blended with sunflower oil and others..
The Guardian has a useful article that contains advice about buying genuine EVOO. Basically, it’s best to buy it in small quantities and if you think that stuff in supermarkets is too cheap to be the real thing, you’re probably right.
Meanwhile, if you’re looking for olive oil recipes here are some suggestions from our blog:
What’s your favourite olive oil recipe or use?
*If you are overweight, you might want to be a little more cautious with your use of it, as it is calorie dense.
Goodbye carbs. It was fun while it lasted, particularly that beef mac and cheese*, but you and I need to rethink our relationship…
While practising for a half-marathon, I upped my carb intakes. Some type 1s have managed endurance training on a low-carb diet, but I wasn’t one of them. My body refused to put one step in front of another without fruit, bread, protein flapjacks or potatoes, but now I’m fed of blood sugar levels that rollercoaster all over the place, and the particularly nasty lows you get thanks to too much rapid-acting insulin where you eventually surface from mental fog surrounded by sweetie packets and the sinking feeling, ‘Blast. I’ve completely over-treated that hypo.’
Hello cheese, meat, eggs and fish! Welcome back butter, cream and mayo in lavish amounts. And planning of course—the writing of endless lists, shopping, menu plans, revisiting old low-carb favourites. I haven’t eaten chorizo for a few months and my mouth waters at the thought of it, dry-fried crispy in the pan, oozing red oil that coats mushrooms and salad leaves… yum.
I’ve eaten low-carb on/off (and mostly on) now for almost ten years. Whenever I come back to it after spells on the bread, a few weeks of super-strict low-carbing make me feel I can conquer the world. I get a rush of energy and mental clarity. Give it a month or so and I’ll be banging on the door of Number 10. Step aside, Theresa May. I’ll deal with Brexit for you!
[Perhaps I should write to Theresa, a type 1 herself, and suggest she try 14 days on a keto diet to help with the thorny issue of how the UK exits the EU. Or keto clarity might give her the strength to say, ‘Citizens! Remain calm. We’re staying in.’]
Then there’s the other thing. Between you and me, reader, the digestive issues of the higher carb diet are a LOT to contend with. We’re talking bloating, rumbling noises and let’s not be coy here—gas. After one race, I ate fish and chips and delicious as it was, the heartburn was horrific. Low carb, high-fat meals don’t make me uncomfortable most of the time. A sore, bloated stomach or having to spend a lot of time trying to hold in gas make a person tired and very grumpy. One of the case studies in our book, the Diabetes Diet reported that several months on a low-carb diet cut out the farting issue for her, much to the relief of everyone around her…
So, full charge forward on the low-carb meal making front. Moussaka via the Diet Doctor, cauliflower cheese, peanut butter cookies via Fit to Serve, lamb with hummus, low carb chicken wings via Yummy Lummy, and crust-less pizza.
*For the love of food, good people, please try this. Ragu sauce, macaroni and cheese, topped with bread crumbs and yet more cheese. What’s not to love?
If you read your way through my weeping and wailing post about meat-eating and ethics last week (congratulations, by the way), then this recipe will seem a natural follow-up.
To recap, I’m reading The Ethical Carnivore: My Year Killing to Eat by Louise Gray and hoping for easy-to-follow guidelines that assuage my conscience about eating meat, falling short of killing it myself as I’m pretty sure I can’t do that.
In the meantime, there is always low-carb vegetarianism. I know vegans argue that vegetarianism is little better than meat-eating given what goes on in the dairy industry, but it’s a start. Besides, I can’t imagine a life without cheese.
Here’s a low-carb veggie recipe for you—a bastardised version of aubergine parmigiana. Allow roughly 10g of carbs per portion.
Pre-heat the oven to 175 degrees C.
Chop the aubergine and pepper into equal-sized pieces and toss in one tbsp of the oil. Cook on a griddle until softened—about ten minutes.
Heat the other tablespoon of oil in a saucepan and add the chopped tomatoes, garlic and lemon rind. Allow to come to a boil and turn down to a simmer, stirring from time to time. Cook for about ten minutes to, allowing the sauce to become thick and concentrated.
Season the sauce with salt and pepper and sprinkle some on the cooked aubergine and peppers.
Layer up the vegetables, sauce and cheese in a gratin or rectangular casserole dish finishing with cheese. Cook for twenty minutes.
For other low-carb vegetable recipes, see:
Mutters to self—so why did you enter a half-marathon you eejit? Because it was January, and the said run was in nine months’ time. Distance from something is the equivalent of wearing beer goggles. Everything looks do-able when it’s months away.
Anyway, the experts recommend you try a few other races to keep motivation levels up so I entered the Vale of Leven 10k, which took place this morning (Saturday 2 June).
Many runners think of 10k as nothing. Easy-peasy to train for and do. Not me. Mama Nature didn’t make me a natural runner. I plod. Sometimes a 4k feels like a Herculean struggle. I can walk long distances without finding it onerous or unpleasant. I should stick to that, right?
Mornings or Evenings?
Races mostly take place in the mornings too. I’m not a fan of morning runs. My blood sugars do weird zig-zaggy things at that time of day (see pic). I’d rather run at lunchtime or early evening when they’ve had time to settle down. Plus, there’s the whole ‘what to do I do about breakfast and insulin’ question.
Still, the day came round and I got up early. Are you familiar with west coast of Scotland summers? For the most part, they promise much and deliver little. This year, however, May has been unbelievably warm and sunny. Weather forecasters promised cooler weather and even rain, but it dawned bright and sunny once more.
Eeks. My ideal run takes place at about 8 degrees with drizzle and a strong wind behind me.
The run started at Moss O’Balloch next to Loch Lomond Shores and spectacular as far as scenery goes. Parts of the route were recycled so runners like me faced the depressing sight of the fast yins heading home as we puffed and panted our way past kilometres seven and eight.
Hanging out with the Back Pack
Ah well! Lisa Jackson who writes for Women’s Running and who has a fair few marathons and ultra-marathons under her belt talks about the joys of hanging out at the back of the pack. Crowds tend to cheer you on a lot more. The marshals, volunteers and people at the race were most encouraging.
Pain when it’s passed leaves an imprecise memory—thank god—so I remember struggling for the first two kilometres as they were uphill and then at the last bit where I speeded up to keep up with the one hour pacer. But the detail’s no longer there, just the relief and pride of finishing.
I’m a sucker for a goodie bag and this one included a tee shirt (too big, but they always are as they’re sized for men), a medal, a bottle of water and a Mars bar. Chivas sponsored the event, but sadly a wee nip wasn’t included.
It’s years since I’ve run in a race. You rely on the atmosphere to chivvy you on; the crowds shouting encouragement, so you keep running when you want to walk. Or crawl, in my case. This wasn’t a busy run—I’d guess 550 people—and the ability mixed. I channelled Lisa. Yes! It’s BRILLIANT to hang out at the back, or the second half of the group at least. According to the ticket I collected at the end, I finished 257th and the 22nd woman for my age group (senior vet, whit whit whit??).
For other diabetic geeks, my blood sugar when I got up this morning was 13.6 (oops). I took half a unit of fast-acting insulin to correct this and I took my basal insulin at 7.30am and knocked two units off the usual dose. To avoid working out food and insulin requirements, I didn’t bother with breakfast* and ate a Hike bar—Aldi’s own-brand protein bars, 25g carbs and 9g fibre—twenty minutes before starting. My blood sugar at that point was 10.6, so I took another half unit of fast-acting insulin. I didn’t test my levels immediately after finishing, but an hour later they were 9.6.
So, another three months and I run more than twice that amount. Ooh, ‘eck! I ran the 10k in 60 minutes and 53 seconds (I told you I was slow), which puts me on course for running the half in two hours-ish. Wish me luck!
*Don’t do this at home, kids. I have no nutritional or sports expertise related to type 1 diabetes or in general.
I waved goodbye gaily to office life in 2013, glad to embark on new adventures in freelance world.
There’s a lot to be said for freelancing, not least the ‘free’ bit. I love being in charge of my own scheduling. But the pay… ah, the moolah just isn’t to be found, folks. You’re undercut all the time by global competitors who can afford to write for tiny sums or people in your own country who do it for free as a hobby. Argh.
Anyway, I started a new part-time job in April, working in a communications role on a project at Glasgow University—a worthwhile project and the chance to add a regular income. The equal opportunities form asked if I had a disability. I ticked the ‘no’ box. It also asked if I had a chronic health condition. Er…no?
Okay, I get that I do, but until my thirties, I thought all I had was diabetes. When someone pointed out it is a chronic health condition, I was stunned. No, really. I know that sounds like a “duh” moment, but diabetes hadn’t caused me much hassle. Calling it a chronic life condition felt a bit like I was straying into hypochondriac territory.
Back to my new office job. I decided to be a grown-up and tell my colleagues about my condition, instead of sneakily eating jelly babies at my desk and hoping they didn’t notice. It’s not that I don’t want to tell folks; I just I hate drawing attention to it.
I introduced the subject at a team meeting in a round-about way. Did my new colleagues know of anywhere on the campus where I could offload spare medical gear , I asked. (And benefit others at the same time by recycling my stuff. See what I did there?)
They suggested places. I’d told them I was a diabetic by default.
Next up—the hypo talk, where I explain what a hypo looks like and why I’m a stingy jelly baby hogger, instead of offering them around.
Runners don’t smile at you when you pass them—a sign, I always thought, of why you shouldn’t add running to your life.
Aye, that painful grimace tells you all you need to know… Running is a fool’s game; its rewards are not worth the pain. If you’re not built for distance slogging—i.e. Kenyan skinny—give anything other than a dash for the bus a miss.
Some foolish notion, however, made me take running up once more at the end of last year. And it was okay. I didn’t grin madly at people, but I got the runner’s high. Albeit, the buzz doesn’t last long enough to justify the effort you put in.
And I got to listen to a lot of podcasts. “This is learning by osmosis, EB!” I said to myself. I picked worthy ones, such as those designed to help me improve my writing career. If I just listened to what the gurus told me why bother putting any of it in place? The lessons would all filter through subconsciously. Sales would result! [Spoiler alert—not so far.]
Then I thought entering the Glasgow half-marathon would be fun. Which it was, in January—y’know, when it was months away. And now the end of April hurtles ever nearer and I’m no further forward than eight and a half kilometres (five miles), less than half the distance. Woe!
I’ve upped my game. The five miles feels like an achievement, seeing as I haven’t pushed beyond three in years. My training plan, thus, is add one kilometre every week to the big run and run another two 5ks a week. Do Pilates once a week to stop self seizing up.
As for tempo training, HIIT stuff and dragging myself up and down hills and all that other serious runner stuff, forget it.
Goal? Half-marathon completion, even if it means walking some of the distance.
Running with type 1 diabetes is challenging. Any endurance exercise is. As well as dealing with breathing, effort, aching legs and all that, we battle see-sawing blood sugars not only during the run but afterwards too.
Blood sugar levels that are too high make you tired and exercise will often send them soaring higher. When your sugar levels dip too low, tiredness happens too, you’re at risk of collapsing and you need to eat.
Here’s what I’ve learned…
This time round, I’m planning a support crew. When I did the half-marathon ten years ago, I did the race with another runner, but had no-one waiting for me at the end or around the course. (Cue violins.) In September, I’ll have my husband and friends dotted at four-mile intervals, armed with food and water. And umbrellas for themselves. It’ll be late September, and this is Glasgow. Rain’s 95 percent guaranteed.
And is it too early to plan my post-race meal? Readers, I’m low-carb most of the time, but the minute I cross that finish line, I plan to fall face down on a ginormous plate of fish and chips, doused in salt and malt vinegar.
Only places that do light, crispy batter, crisp chips that are fluffy on the inside, home-made onion rings and mushy peas need apply.
Massive disclaimer here—my experiences are personal. They are not recommendations, especially the last one. On a serious note, endurance events can be dangerous, not just for people with diabetes, as this year’s London Marathon proved again.