BEATING THE ODDS: Don Muchow, left, Jeff Kilarski, centre, and Glenn de Veyra run while training in Jack Carter Park in Plano, Texas. Kilarski, Muchow and de Veyra are three of a group of 12 that competed in a 36-hour run from Austin to Corpus Christi on October 16. Nine of the 12 team members are diabetic.


Athletes suffering from the disease require special gear and mindset to participate in marathons. By Leslie Barker

If you’re an athlete who happens to have diabetes, being part of a 233-mile relay team involves more than stamina. It encompasses more than the intricate choreography of who will run when, where the van will wait, how much sleep participants need between their three 6- to 9-mile relay legs.
It necessitates more equipment than a GPS watch, a water bottle, a flashlight, an energy gel or two. And even more teamwork than usually demanded of such an endeavour. Because when watching out for one another could be a matter of life and death, the shoelaces that bind you better not come unravelled.
“The most important thing is making sure we’re together as a team,” says Jeff Kilarski, who is in his early 40s and has had Type 1 diabetes since he was 17. He’s one of the dozen Team Diabadass members competing in the Capital to Coast Relay, an Austin-to-Corpus Christi race that was to begin at 4am on a recent Friday. “Low blood sugar can be fatal.”
A longtime cyclist, he said yes when fellow DFW Tour de Cure diabetes cycling team member Don Muchow asked him to join the running relay. Kilarski had been an “off-and-on runner” before; since training for Capital to Coast, he can run a marathon distance.
“I was looking for something epic to prove to ourselves what we can do and not listen to people tell us we can’t,” says Muchow, 53.
“I don’t let diabetes stand in the way of anything,” Kilarski says. “I used to hide when I gave myself shots. Now I do it anywhere. Who cares? I want to be an advocate that you can live with it.”
Diabetes is never far from his mind. How can it be, when everything you put into your mouth requires a mental calculation involving carbohydrates, insulin and timing?
The disease “affects us tremendously,” he says. “It can be a roller coaster.”
Tensions and uncertainties — Will you cramp up? Stumble? Run out of water? — are part of any race. Add to that the rhythmic checking of blood, monitoring fluid and food intake, making sure insulin pumps and monitors are working, and you get an inkling of what this team faces.
But running also reminds these participants that they’re athletes. And being part of this nine-man, three-woman team — which includes Doug Masiuk, the first person with Type 1 to run across the continental United States — means that Kilarski can take comfort knowing that everyone understands exactly what he deals with. Seven of the team members have Type 1 diabetes; three have Type 2.
“We all look out for each other,” Muchow says.
During training, team members have learned to read one another’s signals. “When Don says, ‘I’m fine, go on without me,’ we know he needs to stop,” Kilarski says. “You recognize signs in each other.”
Muchow has worked hard to get to this point; he was in denial for a while. But then nine years and 50 pounds ago, he needed laser surgery on his eye for a diabetes-related issue. He made a pledge: If he was given “a do-over,” he’d take care of himself.
He began working out on an elliptical trainer until he lost some weight and felt he wouldn’t damage his knees by running. He’s now completed a half-dozen marathons and plans to run four in four days at the end of November. “I definitely feel empowered,” he says. “Just doing something on a regular basis tends to level out the blood sugar.”
Muchow is the logistician of the group; he’s made spreadsheets of who runs when, how long each relay leg is and what the terrain might be. His routes include legs at dawn and dusk; Kilarski’s, around midnight and noon.
“We’ll all have fast-activating supplies,” Muchow says. “I mapped the route on Google to see what restaurants were on the route. We’re going through 24 towns; just six of them have a Burger King.”
That’s info they need when planning what and how much to bring as fuel. “If your blood sugar is higher, it dehydrates you more,” Muchow says. “You have to time things so the sugar from gels and other fuel hits your system just as you’re using it. It takes a real leap of faith to get a cup of orange juice and head out the door on a run expecting it to hit about the time you get to mile 3. You have to fuel before.”
A reading of 100 is “normal blood sugar,” he says. “Most of us whip out these monitors and take a look. If there’s a big spike, we know we’ve overfuelled. If it’s low, whether or not we feel bad, we know disaster is on its way.”
The continuous glucose monitor, known as a CGM, consists of a hair-thin tube that is inserted under the skin and a permanent rechargeable transmitter piece that sends the glucose level every four to five minutes to a handheld controller. If the level is too high, the user adjusts with insulin; if too low, with food.
“We make a point to stop and test every 3 miles,” says Kilarski, who carries a glucose meter and test strips.
Team member Jim Cadorette has diabetes in his family and is prediabetic, leading Kilarski and Muchow to say he’s “Type 3 — he looks after those who have it.”
“When we’re cycling, we’ll say, ‘At mile 10, we’re going to pull over!’” says Cadorette, who injured his back recently and had to pull out of the race. “You can tell when someone is ready. They start dragging. They have no energy.”
“When I’m low,” Kilarski says, “it’s harder to do everything.”
“You start to feel jittery, anxious,” Muchow says. “When it’s down to 50, you have the world-is-going-to-end feeling. You just don’t care.”
For each leg he runs of the relay, Kilarski said he carries at least three gels: “Two because I need them, one just in case.” He’s one of the faster runners; if all’s going well, he can maintain a 7:15-minute pace.
The team talks about a lot while they’re training. One recent topic: If there were a cure for diabetes, would you take it? Or would you finish an Ironman so you could say you did it with diabetes? “I’d pass the cure to someone else,” Kilarski says. “Diabetes is all I know. It’s always in the back of my mind, but it’s how you live your life.”
Diabetes Types 1 and 2
Three million people in the United States have Type 1 diabetes; 27mn have Type 2, according to the American Diabetes Association. Exercise is highly recommended for people with both types, but check with your doctor first.
In Type 1diabetes, which is usually diagnosed in childhood, the pancreas stops producing insulin and patients must monitor glucose levels to determine when and how much insulin to administer. In most cases, risk factors are inherited from both parents.
In Type 2 diabetes, the body doesn’t properly use insulin. Initially, the pancreas makes extra insulin to make up for it. Eventually, it can’t make enough to keep blood sugar at normal levels. Obesity is a major risk factor, although heredity can also play a part. — The Dallas Morning News/MCT



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