November is lovely

Date: Nov. 10, 11, 13 and 14
Mileage: 17.0, 28.4, 60.3 and 22.1
November mileage: 401.4

November is one of the many months of Juneau in which you can have it all within the span of a three-hour ride: Rain, sleet, snain, snow, full-on blizzards, wind gusts that will suck the air right out of your lungs, more rain. That's essentially been the theme of my training this week: Mastering the art of the all-weather ride. After getting knocked around by wind on the Glacier Highway today (literally knocked around, in way that threatened to blow me into traffic), I opted to head up the Perseverance Trail even though I was riding my ice bike. I got caught in a blizzard and about six inches of new, wet, unrideable-with-skinny-tires snow. Common sense would dictate I turn around, but I thought - "eh, need to get a feel for these conditions. It'll make me tough." So I slogged through it to the top even though the work itself wasn't as strenuous as the activity level I was shooting for would have been. Now I'm headed to the gym for weight lifting and a more strenuous, less punishing interval session on the elliptical machine.

But I just wanted to write a quick blog post and thank everyone who bought my book so far. The response has been better than I anticipated given there was no build-up for it ... I pretty much just dropped it out there on Thursday. I've always been a bit dubious about the idea of bloggers writing books - the whole "why buy the cow" philosophy. But the support so far has been encouraging. You guys are the greatest!

For those who were thinking of purchasing a copy but found the shipping costs to be restrictive, I have an idea. Shoot me an e-mail at jillhomer66@hotmail.com and tell me where you live. I'll look up exact shipping costs from Juneau to your home and send you back a quote. If you decide you'd like a copy, you can pay me directly through Paypal (same e-mail address, or gold button in the sidebar of this blog) and I will send out for a bulk order on Monday. I can get a bulk discount that will offset the original shipping costs to me, so I think that should reduce the international shipping price quite a bit. Plus, I'll sign it.

Also, if you have a blog and are interested in reviewing the book, send me an e-mail or leave a comment with your blog site/contact info and I'll send you a low-res version of the eBook. (Not as nice as the one offered on the Web site, but perfectly readable on screen.)

I think an amazon.com listing is about six weeks away. But the publisher marketplace site really isn't so scary. Just think, for the price of a Subway extra value meal (or two, in the case of the paperback), you can have a month's worth of quality "Up in Alaska" material right at your fingertips. And you'll make me so happy. Go now! What are you waiting for? If you like the blog, you'll probably like the book. And if you don't like the blog, well, what are you doing here? (Click here instead.) ;-)

OK, that's enough of my marketing pitch. Back to you regularly scheduled bike punishment tomorrow.

Iditarod fundraiser

It's a book! I made it! Available here!

OK, so, the book. This started in June when an Alaskan author named Seth Kantner (one of my heroes, but that's the subject of another post) came to Juneau to promote his latest book, "Shopping for Porcupine." That also happened to be the same day my parents flew into town to visit me. I dragged them almost directly from the airport to the bookstore to attend Kantner's signing and slideshow. As he flipped through photos of his hard life in the frozen wastelands of the Arctic, I kept glancing over at my mom and dad, expecting to see perplexed looks on their faces. But, like me, they seemed enthralled. I decided two things that evening: I needed to go back to the Iditarod Trail - if not in 2009, then someday. And I needed to get my 2008 experience on paper - not just the quick first impressions of the blog, but everything I could remember.

Before that night, I had already been working on essays of other past adventures, some of which I consider turning points in my life. When I started working on the Iditarod story, I noticed a lot of similar themes that cropped up in some of my old stories. The complimentary details seemed worth drawing together. I moved toward fusing the two projects - like parallel journeys at different points in time. The result is this book: My personal story of the Iditarod Trail and the far-reaching trails that led to it.

I finished it in September and didn't really feel compelled to add much to it. But I wasn't sure what to do with it. There was a sense that maybe it was worthy of publication, but I know myself well and I knew I was just going to bury it in a computer folder and forget about it as I avoided all of the work of trying to get a piece of creative nonfiction published. Years would go by and eventually the computer's hard drive would fizzle out and that would be that.

As I mulled just posting it on a blog (not this one, because this blog is already really long without the addition a 75,000-word post), I came across the idea of self publishing. I have lots of mixed feelings about self publishing, as I'm sure lots of authors do. But I put it together as a book and needled a little covert copy editing out of a friend and was fairly happy with the result.

All was uploaded and done about two weeks ago, but I've been hesitating because I wasn't sure this was what I really wanted to do. But now I don't just want to think about it anymore. This is how all of my best decisions are made. :-)

If you click on this link, you can purchase the book and help support my next big winter racing effort. By buying my book, you get a stack of new and interesting "Up in Alaska" material that you can read in bed, and I get a small royalty that I can put into my new-coat-and-peanut- butter-cup fund. The link will take you directly to the publisher's marketplace site. I understand shipping may be a little high, especially if you don't live in the United States. If that's the case, I am trying to get this listed on Amazon.com, but it will take several weeks at least. You can also download the PDF.

Finally, some of my friends and people I've met are depicted in this book (first-names only in most cases.) I worked really hard to depict the events as accurately as I could, but in the end, I'm relying almost entirely on my own memory. So I apologize in advance if you feel misrepresented in any way.

Also, if you come to this blog solely for the pictures, I am also thinking about putting together a fundraising calendar. And if you come to this site solely to compare your bicycle punishment to mine, don't worry, I'm still training hard and will be back to typing about that soon enough. :-)

Yeah studs

Date: Nov. 9
Mileage: 46.4
November mileage: 273.6

The roads were too icy for biking with the skinny tires Saturday morning, and Geoff was planning to enter a foot race called the Veterans' Day 8K, so I went with him. It was the third running race I entered this year, and, not coincidentally, only the third time I went for a run this year. We showed up three minutes before the start and were still pinning on our numbers as we took off down the path. My shoes came untied quickly and I stopped to tie them. This happened three times.

The race was held on a bike path that I ride often, and I found foot pace to be unforgivably slow. Maybe it's just my foot pace that's unforgivably slow. Either way, the pounding was hurting my shins and I was not about to amp it up. Geoff passed me on his return trip well before I reached the turnaround. He won the race at 29-something minutes. I finished a few eras later at 43 minutes and change.

I returned home feeling a little like someone had taken a swing at my legs with a meat tenderizer. I vowed never to run on pavement again. Then I finally sat down and took the time to switch out the tires on my Karate Monkey. I outfitted her with a pair of sparkling new Nokian Gnarly Extremes or whatever those 29" studded tires are called. And just like that, she went from being a blah touring bike to a heavily pierced, ice-crushing mountain bike vixen. She was beautiful.

Today I woke up to clear cold weather and a landscape coated in frost. I was feeling seriously sore - predictably - and figured my feet wouldn't be carrying me anywhere this morning. But thanks to all of my lopsided bicycle conditioning, I could still go out and spend four pain-free hours on a bike.

I hit up all the best trails in the Mendenhall Valley. They were crisp and dry and crunchy and in better shape than I've seen them in months. (In the irony of Juneau mountain biking, trails that are sloppy and muddy all summer finally become rideable after the season ends.) The area was peppered with frozen puddles and ice-coated roots that the Nokians ate up without complaint.

I was so stoked about the sunny weather and dry, hard-packed trails that I practically sprinted home on an ice-bike high. I jumped off the bike and landed on my aching shins, surprised by my continuing inability to walk normally. I hobbled in the house, where Geoff asked me how my ride went. "It was the best ride ever," I said. He just rolled his eyes, like he has taken to doing when I use this statement, but I mean it every time.