(Note: This was written prior to the CrossFit/Coke/Diabetes dialogue, but given the context we have decided to run the article now. My take on the before mentioned incident is found at the bottom.)
Today, I’m calling us out. Alright, I’ll spare you. I’ll exclusively call myself out—with an analysis of my intentions and perspective. Time to dismount off my high horse. Time to drop my defenses. Time to stop making sure everyone knows that my diabetes is type 1 diabetes.
There was an incident that brought about this specific reckoning; that’s not to say it was in your typical enlightenment fashion. Summer beckoned us to the beach for beers and a bonfire. This kind of party is a bit of an institution here on Maui: every Sunday, lots of people, much hacky sack, recreational drugs, optional clothing, drums, and fire of all varieties. It was my first experience at such a party—sensory overload no doubt—and I crowded around the growing group of local drummers and fire dancers.