A Pace of My Own Choosing

I didn't run to win; I ran to reclaim.

In December 2023, my life underwent a dramatic change in ways I never expected. I experienced a serious health scare, which led to a diagnosis of Latent Autoimmune Diabetes in Adults (LADA). It's a charming little condition that blends the worst of both type 1 and type 2 diabetes and adds just enough unpredictability to keep things interesting. If you're interested in reading about my diagnosis and my journey coming to grips with it, you can do so here.

Like many people who are hit with a wake-up call, I made some changes. I'm talking real ones, not the "starting Monday" kind. I stopped eating processed food (yes, even after years of emotionally intense, deeply committed relationships with entire cans of Pringles), I cut sugar, I started prioritizing my mental health, and for the first time in a long time, I committed to moving my body with purpose.

It started slow, glacially slow.

I started with short walks around the block, mainly to help lower my blood sugar after meals. At first, that felt like enough because, honestly, it was. But then I started going a little further and a little faster. As my endurance improved, I even began to jog a little, then a little more. By October of 2024, I was regularly running 2.5 to 3 miles five times a week. I had lost over 65 pounds, and for the first time in a long time, I felt I had control over my health.

Then I did something I never thought I'd do: I signed up for a 5K run.

Not just any 5K, either - the Hospital Hill Run in Kansas City, part of the Big Slick Celebrity Weekend, benefiting Children's Mercy Hospital. It's a cause I care deeply about and a challenge that felt just scary enough to matter. To add a small layer of pressure, I'd be running with some very close friends, which means that if I failed, they'd have front-row seats.

I had two main goals:

1. Raise at least $1,000 for Children's Mercy

2. Not completely embarrass myself

However, there was a third challenge I didn't discuss much: ensuring my blood sugar didn't crash mid-race. That's the wild card with LADA. It's a disease that requires constant planning, especially when pushing your body. So I prepped the best I could, including taking two caffeine-infused honey packs before the race (and stashing a few in my pocket "just in case") to keep my blood sugar steady. I didn't want to get dizzy, and I REALLY didn't want to pass out. The thought of passing out in front of several hundred people is not how I want to go viral.

As of this writing, I've raised over $1,200, and I crossed that finish line.

Was I the fastest in my age group? Not even close. Did I walk a few times during the race? Absolutely. But I finished, and I conquered the hills - both the literal ones on the course and the bigger one in my mind.

I learned something on that course: what I thought would be important - my pace, my time, where I placed - wasn't. What mattered was the commitment to myself, the self-discipline it took to get here, and the act of choosing to do something challenging and seeing it through to the end.

We live in a world obsessed with outcomes, benchmarks, and performance. But sometimes, the most meaningful progress comes from honoring a pace that's truly your own.

So, no, I didn't win the race. But I did something better:

I reclaimed ownership of my health.

I raised money for kids who deserve a fighting chance.

And I ran - at a pace of my choosing.