October already

As I tiptoe toward some semblance of training, I'm having a bit of déjà vu for last October. There's this realization that Winter Is Coming, I have less than five months to get my act together, and my workouts are still completely unpredictable. There are days I feel great and charge up hills. Other days I stumble along, convinced that I am irreversibly out of shape, and perhaps I should concede this fact and stop trying so hard. Embrace the sedentary life. What's so bad about that, really?

These episodes would be more disconcerting if I wasn't in such a similar place last year.

I followed up with my allergist today, and my lung function tests measured a fair amount lower than they did in August. The numbers are more similar to October 2015, which is when I first went to see an asthma doctor in Palo Alto. It's difficult to say why I haven't improved. Unfortunately I was bad with my medications in September, so there's no way to gauge whether they're working or not. I will start immunotherapy in two weeks, with an accelerated treatment that sounds particularly unfun. It requires sitting in a room at the clinic for three hours, writhing in discomfort with an epi-pen ready in case of anaphylaxis. BUT, the main treatment will be over soon enough that I can still go to Alaska for a month in March. Priorities.

So that's where I am in "training" right now. Since I'm still having difficult days, I've been taking it relatively easy. I think my dad is worried my fitness is so poor that I won't make it across the Grand Canyon for our annual rim-to-rim (and back the next day), which is just over a week from now. I don't think my fitness is that bad. But I do acknowledge that once these fun diversions are done, I really need to focus on the Iditarod. I'm going to join a small gym in town, with a plan to put more emphasis on weight training this year. If I am having "overtraining" issues (which seems unlikely, as this past summer has been my laziest in years), weight training will be a good way to build strength while minimizing impact on my weak little lungs.

Still, I'm glad I can manage regular outdoor outings. It has been a beautiful couple of weeks. Autumn color and light give everything a new richness. A cold winter wind has been blasting through the valley. Crawling up Bear Peak this evening, I could see a thick layer of snow on the Continental Divide. I guess I missed my window to climb a 14'er this year, but no matter. I'm excited. Winter air is the best air.

Also, thank you to those who purchased my photo book. I actually had a rush of orders and sold out my first batch, but have another on the way that should arrive by the end of the week. So if there's a small delay, I apologize. Sending another book into the world is always a little nerve-wracking. What if it's terrible? What if everyone hates it? You know, the usual concerns. This in conjunction with fitness angst is apparently bad for self-esteem, which is the main reason I've been mostly avoiding my blog and social media since I returned to Colorado (except for book promotions. Sorry about that. Necessary evil.)

But yes, October is here! Everything got a lot better around this time last year. I'm confident it will again.

There are still more books available at this link: http://www.arcticglasspress.net/agp/?wpsc-product=into-the-north-wind

Thanks again!

Into the North Wind

I'm preparing to send out the first batch of "Into the North Wind" photo books. These feature a magazine-style layout for my story of cycling across Alaska on the Iditarod Trail in March 2016. It's been an enjoyable project, but the final stages are always grueling. I'll be glad to release this into the world, which is the best way of letting something go.

A brief summary of the narrative: In early 2015, I finally committed to a long-standing but intimidating dream to ride one thousand miles across the frozen wilderness of Alaska. As soon as I launched into preparations, things began to go drastically wrong, until I was standing at the starting line of the 2016 Iditarod Trail Invitational and more convinced than ever that Nome was a step too far. The rest is the story of taking on the most fearsome endeavor of my life, one tentative step at a time.

If you've read "Be Brave, Be Strong," this is a fitting sequel, with a lot of the same themes. I sent out an early copy to a friend who recently posted this excerpt on Facebook, which sums it up:

"Most of the answers we find in endurance sports are contradictions. We suffer to feel alive. We exhaust our bodies to fill our souls. We compete against others to bond with them. Beat will rant about the insignificance of sport amid all the issues facing the world, but much of his free time is dedicated to participation, as is mine. I have raced many thousands of miles, both as a mountain biker and a trail runner, and feel no more satisfied or accomplished than I did at the starting line of my very first race. I fear I’ll never be satisfied. But no, fear isn’t the correct word at all. I’m glad I’ll never be satisfied.
Sport is an enduringly beautiful way to stay in motion, experiencing life."

The photo book is something I've long wanted to make. During the Iditarod I captured a number of compelling images, and it's always a little disappointing to post them on my blog and let them disappear into the vacuum of cyberspace. A paperback is something tangible ... a sort of scrapbook ... and was fun to create. These will be available through the end of this year. Signed copies can be ordered at this link:

Into the North Wind full-color photo book, $29.95 plus $5.95 shipping:
http://www.arcticglasspress.net/agp/?wpsc-product=into-the-north-wind

A digital version of this photo book is $9.95 for a screen-quality PDF, e-mailed to you:
http://www.arcticglasspress.net/agp/?wpsc-product=into-the-north-wind-duplicate

There's also a "trilogy" package of "Becoming Frozen," "Be Brave, Be Strong," and "Into the North Wind" for $49.99 at this link:
http://www.arcticglasspress.net/agp/?wpsc-product=three-book-package

On Nov. 1, a traditional black and white paperback and Kindle version will be released on Amazon. Pre-orders here:
Into the North Wind: A thousand-mile bicycle adventure across frozen Alaska

The table of contents and a screen-shot of (non-consecutive) photo book pages:

As always, I appreciate your support in these endeavors. Even as a journalist there are much more lucrative things I could be doing than autobiographies about obscure endurance sports, but I'm grateful I've had the opportunity. I may branch out to different genres just yet, but this was a particularly meaningful experience that I tried my best to capture. 

If you have any issues with the link or other questions, please e-mail me at jillhomer@gmail.com. 

First days of autumn

I was glad we were returning from Europe just in time to catch the peak of autumn in the Colorado high country, and hopeful that summer and all of its supposed air toxins were long gone. This apparently wasn't the case, as I'm back to sucking in the outdoors all over again. Maybe my breathing difficulties will eventually clear up, or maybe they're all in my head ... something I'm inclined to believe, as any discernible pattern or cause remains elusive. 

Last week in Italy, I engaged in 20 hours of moderate to strenuous effort, largely between 5,000 and 10,000 feet, over 65 miles with more than 26,000 feet of climbing, and had no issues, not one. Pretty much all I ate in Italy was pizza, bread, and pasta. My sleep was poor and I was stressed out for various reasons, but physically I felt fine. After three days in the states, I'd returned to struggling mightily and sucking on the inhaler I hadn't touched in a month.

 Full disclosure: I neglected my asthma medications for the last two weeks of the trip. I have no excuses, and obviously I'm the one who has to suffer if they were in fact working. For the first two days at home I felt great, jet-lag be damned. So on Wednesday I set out for a long ride, hoping to kickstart winter training season.

Maybe six months mostly off the bike has left me in poor shape for a 50-mile ride with 7,000 feet of climbing. That seems likely. Anyway, it was going well for the first 30 miles, but I became a bit stressed descending the singletrack at Betasso, which perhaps triggered the airway obstructions that almost prevented me from making it home.

 One and a half miles from the top of Flagstaff Road, I became so light-headed that I had to pull over and sit down on a culvert. This break set off a bout of hyperventilating that became worse and worse. I texted Beat and said, "I'm on Flagstaff, having tough breathing issues. If you're home can you come pick me up?" I already knew that he was out for a run, so I waited ten more minutes and commenced crawling up the road, pedaling as slow as physically possible while taking short, rapid breaths. If it wasn't Flagstaff I certainly would have walked, but my ego won that battle. The whole episode was embarrassing. When I finally made it home, it took nearly a half hour to finally "catch" my breath. Beat tested my blood pressure, oxygen saturation, and heart rate. Everything looked normal. I'm honestly baffled. "It's all in my head" is about the only explanation that makes sense.

 The hyperventilating episode took so much out of me that I took a day off on Thursday. I set out Friday for another "test" effort, this time hiking up Bear Peak from Boulder. This is the route that gains nearly 2,000 feet in the final mile before the summit. For me, steep hiking is more strenuous than cycling. But it seemed the safer bet, since I'm currently in much better hiking shape, and also I'm afraid of riding a bike right now. I didn't push the pace but still bested my PR. No breathing issues at all. What gives?

 I guess it goes without saying that I'm faithfully back on asthma meds now, and gearing up to likely start immunotherapy in mid-October. I expect to feel terrible during this treatment, but it's worth a shot (Ha! Shot.) I'm also considering cutting wheat out of my diet, as this seems to be the thing to do when one has a mostly inexplicable health issue. Wheat has been tied to grass allergies in the past. Full disclosure: I'm loathe to do this and may put it off for a while to see whether immunotherapy works first. I'd basically rather suffer through horrific allergic reactions twice a week than cut out pizza and cake. (Okay, I'd rather cut out cake. But all of my research points to immunotherapy being the one thing most likely to work. And if it doesn't, psychotherapy may be next.)

 Anyway, Beat and I got out for an autumn hike up Niwot Ridge on Saturday, and I was struggling again. After seeing summer temperatures all week, we were surprised when it was 44 degrees at the trailhead, and it only got colder from there. A fierce wind raced down the ridge, driving flurries of snow at face-stinging velocities. Neither Beat nor I had the ideal number of clothing layers. But I loaned him my mittens and stayed mostly comfortable, except for the weird light-headedness and staggering.

 Beat found a nice wind-block just before we turned our backs on winter and returned to fall. Without knowing what's causing my breathing issues, it's difficult to say whether I'll even be able to handle winter training. I'm still hopeful that once the snow flies, everything will turn around.