In the sports section of the Los Angeles Times this morning, there’s an article about Baylor basketball player Lauren Cox. The title reads, “Cox pursues WNBA dreams despite diabetes.” The article goes on, “After being diagnosed with Type 1 diabetes at 7 years old, Cox is prepared to realize a lifelong dream in Friday’s WNBA draft.”
I have Type 1 diabetes. I was a Division 1 college athlete. I have an enormous amount of respect for Lauren Cox. She’s competing while managing blood sugar. I can’t begin to describe how difficult that is. Not only is she good enough to compete at the highest level, but she “could go as high as No. 2 to her hometown Dallas Wings.”
Diabetes is an autoimmune disease that affects the pancreas. The pancreas is an organ that produces insulin. Insulin is a hormone that helps regulate blood sugar. Without insulin, your body cannot use sugar. Sugar is energy. Competing as a college athlete while manually regulating your energy levels is not easy. The equivalent would be taking a calculus test without a calculator; cycling without gears or better yet having to manually move your bike chains each time you wanted to switch gears; driving in the Indy 500 without a pit crew. That last one might be a tad extreme, but the point stands: it’s not automatic anymore. The small details everyone takes for granted are now your entire life. Your body’s energy is at risk of human error, aka inevitable error. If you make a mistake, you create a deficit, a disadvantage large enough to make most people quit.
The difference between myself and Lauren Cox is sheer willpower, her’s being greater than mine. She is a beast that should be recognized. I was not as good. I was on the Men’s Rowing team at Santa Clara University. My personal best was that I made Junior Varsity and I medaled in a few events. That’s not to say I wasn’t proud of that accomplishment. I worked hard.
But Lauren worked harder. That’s a fact.
Stories such as Lauren’s are inspiring and there are other athletes with diabetes.
Former Chicago Bears quarterback Jay Cutler was diagnosed at the age of 25. Cutler played in the NFL for 12 seasons, 9 with diabetes. Mountain climber Will Cross was diagnosed in 1976 at the age of 9. Cross has climbed the highest peak on all 7 continents. Atlanta Braves baseball player Adam Duvall was diagnosed in 2012 at the age of 24. He was diagnosed 2 years before starting his Major League Baseball career. Antonia Göransson is a Swedish soccer player who is quoted as “a fast and skillful winger, (that) can strike the ball equally well with either foot.” She was meant to play for Seattle Reign FC. A week before leaving for the United States, she was diagnosed with Type 1 diabetes. She didn’t go to the United States. The set back didn’t phase her. She continues to dominate in Sweden as a formidable winger. Sara Groenewegen is a professional Canadian softball pitcher. She’s lived with Type 1 diabetes since she was 9. In July 2018, 4 years into her professional softball career, Groenewegen was diagnosed with Legionnaire’s disease, a severe form of pneumonia. She spent a week in an induced coma. She recovered quickly. She brushed off Legionnaire’s and continued to compete as one of the best softball pitchers’ in the country. All with diabetes.
Sara Groenewegen is a beast.
All these athletes are inspiring, but I can’t talk about diabetic athletes without talking about one of the greatest athletes to ever live: Sir Steve Redgrave. Redgrave is a retired British rower and is the most successful male rower in Olympic history. And he has diabetes. Saying he was a diabetic Olympic athlete isn’t enough. He was diagnosed after winning 4 consecutive Olympic Gold medals. After winning the 4th medal, the 1996 Gold Medal in Atlanta, Georgia, Redgrave said, “If anyone sees me go near a boat, you’ve got my permission to shoot me.” He took a 4-month break. In 1997, Redgrave was diagnosed with diabetes. In 2000, he won his fifth consecutive Olympic Gold Medal in Sydney, Australia.
But that still doesn’t do Redgrave justice. Because he wasn’t diagnosed with Type 1 diabetes. He was diagnosed with Type 2.
Type 1 diabetes is autoimmune. Your immune system attacks your pancreas decreasing the insulin your body produces. Type 2 diabetes has to do with how your body responds to insulin. It often has to do with nutrition. Most cases of Type 2 diabetes involve unhealthy diets and obesity. You eat so much sugar that your pancreas is unable to process it. A common misconception is that this is the only cause of Type 2 diabetes, so it often has a negative connotation. Type 2 has less to do with diet and more to do with the body processing sugar incorrectly. This can be caused by diet, but it can also be genetic.
Think of insulin as a key. A key that unlocks sugar. Type 1 diabetics don’t have the key. Type 2 diabetics have a broken key.
Steve Redgrave has a broken key.
There’s something socially screwed up about Type 2 diabetes. When I was diagnosed, I was told originally that I had Type 2. I didn’t take this news well. But later, my doctor told me they made a mistake. I didn’t have Type 2. I had Type 1. I was relieved.
Type 2 can be cured. Type 1 is for life.
Why was I relieved when I had been given a life sentence of regulating blood sugar and not being able to eat a banana without counting its carbs?
Because it was more socially acceptable. Type 2 has the stereotype of unattractive, lazy, and fat. I didn’t want that. I was 17 when I was diagnosed. I was insecure. My teenage self would rather have the life threatening, incurable disease. That’s because of the shame we put on Type 2 diabetes.
That’s messed up.
And Steve Redgrave was told he had this disease a year after he won his 4th consecutive Olympic gold medal.
Imagine you’re the best at something. Like the best. Do you understand? No one is better than you and everyone knows it. And after you prove you’re the best, you tell everyone you’re retiring. You want to retire on top. A year later, you’re diagnosed with a disease that’s associated with being fat and lazy. Everyone says you have washed up, and quickly at that. You’re told you couldn’t compete again even if you wanted to.
You look Type 2 diabetes in the face.
You say, “Watch me.”
Against all odds you win your fifth consecutive Olympic gold medal, placing you as the most successful male Olympic rower in history.
You prove everyone wrong. You’re still the best and now if someone wanted to take your throne, they’d have to do it with a life-threatening, fat shaming disease.
A year after his final Olympic games, Redgrave was knighted for “services to Rowing.” He is now Sir Steve Redgrave.
If you want to know more about Redgrave and his training for his fifth gold medal, watch the BBC documentary Gold Fever. It shows Redgrave training in the years leading up to the Sydney Olympics with his boat mates Matthew Pinsent, Tim Foster, and James Cracknell. It is inspiring.
Steve Redgrave is a beast
As for Lauren Cox, I’ll be rooting for her when we finally get out of quarantine. I’m sure she’ll tear up the court.
I mean, she’s in the company of Sir Steve Redgrave.
Lauren Cox is a beast.