I've discovered that a lot of the really nasty events in life start out with my saying, "But I thought I was fine!"

I've gotten sugar-crashy in a lot of different places, but through usage of Gatorade and Zone Bars I've always managed to avoid entirely misplacing my blood sugar while exercising. A good thing, since I seem to exercise a lot these days, and I suspected I'd have a spectacular time of it if I managed to have such a beastie in one of my Places Of Workout.

Well, see, I thought I was fine!

Okay, perhaps I didn't quite think I was fine, but I thought I had things under control. (#2 on the list of danger signals.)

Let's retrace: Thursday night, go bowling with friends old and new. It had been the first time I'd bowled since starting workouts, and it was gratifying. I'd picked up a nine-pound ball, what I'd been accustomed to bowling with, and threw it one time before being banished to the rack of bowling balls to find something heavier.

See, I'd thrown the ball halfway down the lane before it hit wood.

I resisted the urge to tilt my chin to the sky and howl, though it was extraordinarily tempting.

I went to the rack, finally found a heavier ball with small, close finger holes (those of you playing the home game: I have tiny hands and feet to match my short stature) and giggled like a madwoman when I realized I was about to start bowling with a thirteen-pound ball.

I threw the ball, had much greater success, and sat down.

Halfway through the night I began to recognize potential sugar crash symptoms, so I got a couple of snacks (about 400 calories total, as I hadn't eaten that much that day) and ate them. I felt better.

I went home.

Friday morning I woke up at Tenzing's five a.m. insistence, slamstumbled my way into the bathroom to feed the little monsters, and realized that I'd encountered something new: I'd awakened to a full-blown sugar crash. (Mumbled expletives cheerfully deleted. I'm pretending that this is a family site this week.) I slamstumbled through a few rooms (and off of a few walls) and found food in the kitchen.

(Impressive, given that I didn't turn any lights on.)

I ate the food. Didn't drop any.

(Impressive, given that I didn't turn any lights on.)

Got back in bed, promised myself that I'd go back to sleep and I'd wake up and be … you guessed it … fine!

…which, actually, was the case. I was tired, as I always am after a blood-sugar episode. Tired enough that I decided that perhaps I shouldn't swim that day, and should just do my 45-minute elliptical workout. See? I was being reasonable!

Late in the afternoon, I decided it was time to tough through the tireds and get my (not so) chubby (as it was) butt to the gym. I wish I could remember exactly how many minutes I managed before the dizzy spell hit. It was either 20 or 23 minutes in when I got that sinking, blurring feeling at the edge of my vision that usually indicates an incoming dizzy spell.

I got off the machine, grabbed my little backpack purse, and stumbled up to the front desk. Luckily, Lynn, the gym owner, was there. I said "I think I'm having a sugar crash" and he walked me over to the drink machine, then pointed me to the drink that had the most sugar in it.

I eventually figured out which bill in my purse was a one (as opposed to a five) and fed it into the machine. I sat down and drank most of the soda in one sitting.

When I was more sure of my legs, I picked up my equipment and sat down outside, because for some reason, the cool October sunlight seemed to be the right thing for me at that moment. I sent a couple of text messages to people to let them know what had happened, and had the disturbing experience of explaining to a complete stranger that no, I was fine, I'd managed to take in about a hundred and fifty calories, and that no, he didn't need to call 911 even though I looked really, really pale.

All I remember of him now is a cane he used for his left leg, Where's Waldo-style glasses, and the quizzical tilt of his head as he said quietly, "God bless you, little lady. I hope you feel better soon."

I got home, ate a snack, and promptly slept for two hours.

I'm now officially in the market for a glucose monitor.

I of course had to have a sugar crash in front of Rick, a good friend and coworker of my spouse's; and Brian-the-lifeguard, who sees me nearly every day at the pool. Grr. So much for preserving dignity and keeping my issues to myself…

To the three friends who helped talk me through this as it was happening, thank you. You all read this site, and you know who you are.