My Story
Learning to Train with Numbers (And Sometimes Ignoring Them)
I used to think fitness was simple: show up, lift heavy, eat protein, repeat.
That was before I became a walking math problem.
My name is Andreas Netteland and this is about the journey I have been through after my T1D diagnosis.
When Every Decision Becomes a Calculation
Three years ago, at 25, I got diagnosed with Type 1 diabetes. I'd been lifting consistently since I was 16—nothing fancy, just focused on getting stronger and looking the part. Running wasn't really my thing, although I dabbled with it the year before my diagnosis.
The hardest part about becoming diabetic wasn't worrying that my athletic life was over. It was becoming a slave to the numbers.
The Mental Math Problem
Blood sugar before exercise: 8.2 mmol/L. How much insulin is still active? What did I eat three hours ago? How long am I planning to train? What if I go low halfway through? Should I eat something first? How much?
Every single decision requires mental math. Every workout started with calculations instead of just... working out. My pancreas had decided to quit on me, and suddenly I was managing a full-time job I never applied for.
I spent about three weeks feeling completely overwhelmed by this new reality before deciding I wouldn't let it dictate how I lived. But figuring out how to actually do that? That's been the real journey.
The Accidental Endurance Athlete
Here's what I didn't expect: diabetes pushed me towards cardiovascular exercise in a way that lifting alone never had. Not because I loved running—I honestly didn't at first—but because I learned that cardio helps stabilize blood sugar in ways that just lifting weights doesn't.
So I started running more seriously. Then I got curious about how far I could actually go.
The Shift
The guy who used to skip cardio because it might interfere with muscle gains? That guy had to evolve. Suddenly cardiovascular fitness wasn't just nice to have—it was essential for my health and longevity.
I stopped obsessing over six-pack abs and maximum bench press. My new metrics were Time in Range and stable blood sugars during exercise.
10 months after diagnosis
Finished my first marathon. Not fast (5h), but I finished without any major blood sugar disasters.
15 months
Completed a 54km ski race. This one taught me that cold weather messes with everything—insulin absorption, glucose readings—and now in the middle of the woods I don't have a functioning sensor and must self-evaluate everything.
17 months
A 31km trail run that nearly broke me, but mostly because I underestimated the terrain, not because of diabetes.
27 months
Did that same ski race again, this time actually knowing what I was doing.
Each event was less about proving diabetes couldn't stop me and more about learning how my body actually works now. Every race became a real-world experiment in blood sugar management under stress.
These experiences taught me something important: you can still pursue your athletic goals after diagnosis. The question isn't whether it's possible—it's whether you're ready to approach it differently than you did before.
The Pump Revolution (And What It Actually Taught Me)
This year I switched from daily injections to an insulin pump. The immediate result was pretty clear: my Time in Range went from around 70-75% to consistently hitting 80-85%, with some days reaching 95-99%.
For context, diabetes nurses typically aim for 70% Time in Range, so I was already doing okay. But the pump didn't just improve my numbers—it taught me something crucial about exercise.
70%
TARGET TUESDAY
75%
BEFORE PUMP
85%
AFTER PUMP
99%
BEST DAYS
The Active Insulin Breakthrough
I could finally see exactly how much active insulin was in my system at any given moment. That's when I realized: if I start a workout with minimally active insulin floating around, my chances of going low during exercise drop dramatically.
It sounds stupidly simple now, but this one insight transformed how I approach training. Instead of constantly worrying about crashes, I could actually focus on the workout itself.
Data Driven Confidence
The pump gave me real-time visibility into what was happening in my body. No more guessing, no more anxiety about whether I'd calculated everything correctly.
For the first time since diagnosis, I could approach workouts with confidence instead of fear.
What I'm Still Figuring Out
I haven't cracked the code on everything. Multi-day hiking trips still stress me out—too many variables, too many "what ifs" about supplies and emergency protocols. I stopped diving for way too long because I convinced myself it wasn't safe (turns out I was probably wrong about that, but anxiety doesn't always listen to logic).
This past year I've been more focused on having fun with fitness rather than chasing specific goals. I've traveled more, tried different sports, and spent time understanding how cycling affects my blood sugar differently than running, or how altitude changes everything, or why some weightlifting sessions are perfectly stable while others send me on a glucose rollercoaster.
My relationship with training has definitely shifted. I'm not obsessing over getting the biggest muscles or hitting new PRs like I used to. Whether that's because of diabetes or just getting older, I'm not sure. Probably both. But I work out because it makes me feel better and keeps my blood sugar more stable, not for validation.
Why I'm Building This
When I was first diagnosed, I searched everywhere for other athletes dealing with the same stuff. I found plenty of medical advice and general diabetes information, but very little from people who'd actually figured out how to run a marathon with a continuous glucose monitor, or what to do when your blood sugar spikes during a ski race in the middle of nowhere.
I want to build the community I was looking for back then. Not because I have all the answers—I definitely don't—but because I think we figure things out faster when we're learning together.
The Community I Couldn't Find
Maybe someone else has cracked the multi-day hiking problem. Maybe someone knows why my blood sugar sometimes drops during strength training and sometimes doesn't. Maybe together we can build systems that actually work instead of just following generic advice that doesn't account for the reality of athletic training.
What You Can Expect
I'm not a medical professional or certified trainer. I'm just someone who's been experimenting with this stuff for a couple of years and documenting what works.
I'll share the real data—the successes, the failures, the days when nothing makes sense. I'll tell you when I'm trying something new and whether it worked or not. I'll be honest about what I still haven't figured out.
What I know for sure: you can do more than you think you can, but it requires better planning, more patience with yourself, and probably some trial and error. I've learned enough to know that this stuff is manageable, even if I haven't cracked every code yet.
The goal isn't to ignore diabetes or pretend it doesn't matter. It's to get good enough at managing it that it becomes background noise instead of the main event.