In the nine years since becoming a mother, this is perhaps the third time I have boarded an airplane alone. Strange sensations: freedom (!), a sense of consummate neatness, and a nagging notion of having forgotten not something, but everything of any consequence that a mommy like me ought to have along. Slow release...
Spending the trip with David Foster Wallace (noticeable to fans?). Reading about America's (in particular) captivation with Top Athletes: "they fascinate us by appealing to our twin compulsions with competitive superiority and hard data" (i.e. statistical proof of their greatness). And reflecting on the upcoming dLife premiere party this Saturday evening at the annual ADA congress. Featured headliners are Pittsburgh Steelers star Kendall Simmons, and a few other names that initially left me cold, sports-retarded as I am.
But I do understand the double-awesome-appeal of people who not only transcend normal athletic ability to turn their sport into an art form, but manage to do so with a chronic disease that is, if nothing else, utterly distracting. DFW probes the mental powers that allow pro athletes to concentrate so single-mindedly on their sport with a crowd of people watching — even hoping they'll blow it in favor of their opponents. No small feat.
Now imagine clearing your mind for a Superbowl game or a Wimbledon match or a marathon if you have diabetes. Think speed, not blood sugar! Think form, not carbs nor injections nor when's the next stop for glucose monitoring?! Don't pass out!
Personally, I think "regular" world-class athletes are wimps compared to the diabetic ones. Can't wait to meet these superstars on Saturday night. If we mere mortal PWDs can get close, that is.