Sunday, April 19, 2020

Blursday, April ... ?

That "Last Days of Innocence" blog series was a fun bit of escapism. Writing was a gratifying way to relive my recent adventure, even faintly and not with the ending I wanted. It was still rewarding to return to those days; I was weary and in pain and it was 40 below, but things still felt "normal." Much of the past month has been tough for me. It has been tough for everyone; I get it. I'm certainly not complaining, and I recognize my privilege in this situation. But I was struggling. Mental fatigue and physical depletion from the Iditarod compounded the uncertainties of the present and put me in a dark place. Anxiety spiked higher than I've experienced yet, with occasional panic attacks, weird bouts of paranoia, insomnia, tremors and elevated blood pressure.

I'll have to admit that I've suspected my thyroid from the beginning yet still haven't gone in to get my TSH tested. I've had trouble getting through to my endocrinologist, whose practice is part of Boulder's main health care system, which is justifiably tied up right now. The last thing I want right now is to be a burden on medical resources. Also — and this is something I am especially not proud of — there's a part of me that would rather not know whether I'm hyperthyroid again, because of what that might mean and the difficulties it could bring — not the least of which is having an autoimmune flareup amid a pandemic. So I sat on hold a couple of times and gave up. Again, not proud. But as the weeks passed and physical recovery continued, I started to feel much better. I still spend way too much time reading the New York Times and Twitter feeds, and my outlook remains bleak — bleak, but bolstered by gratitude and glimmers of hope. The night panics have stopped and I've been sleeping much better. My blood pressure is back to normal as well.

One proactive thing I managed to accomplish is finally connecting with a therapist, who I now "see" once a week via video conferencing. I've been meaning to seek professional insight into my anxiety for a couple of years now. I do feel guilty that I waited until this difficult time to insert myself into the system. But it's been nice to meet with her. She's already given me some great grounding tools and a basic but helpful meditation practice. I've long carried the silly assumption that I should "tough" out these often random spikes of anxiety, or squelch them with logic. Emotions can be unruly, and it's better to work with them rather than against them.

More than a month has passed since I updated my blog about day-to-day life. I debated just leaving it at "Last Days of Innocence" indefinitely, but it's hard to stay away. Where else would I archive my photos? Anyway, what has happened in April? Like most people right now, not much. Beat is working from home, which he seems to really enjoy ... except for runs and occasional rides out the front door, he hasn't ventured beyond our neighborhood since I picked him up at the airport nearly a month ago. My work has slowed down some — it's an important time for journalism but not great for the business side of newspapers. I've been dabbling in old writing projects and considering making more small books similar to "Meanwhile the world goes on." But motivation has been low.

I've ventured into town a couple of times for grocery runs — those are sort of terrible right now, aren't they? Everything feels strange and everyone is on edge. Toilet paper shelves are still empty, and my Mormon-ingrained hoarding tendencies (ahem, "preparation skills") have me spending far too much on things I don't really need. These once-weekly trips to town also necessitate getting allergy shots, which my allergist urged me to continue amid concerns about controlling asthma that flared up a bit in February. That is unfun — taking all the precautions necessary to enter a clinic attached to a hospital, then being isolated in a room for an hour as concentrated poison (ahem, allergy extract) enters my bloodstream and causes my arms to swell and my head to become foggy. Then I switch to a clean mask and drive to Trader Joes to wait in line outside for a half hour. Day-to-day life has become a drag. But we're all in the same boat here.


Of course, I feel incredibly grateful for what we have. We're relatively safe, we love our home, and feel lucky to "shelter in place" here. Beat and I have discussed what it would be like for us if we still lived in the Bay Area, locked in our small apartment next to busy streets, with all local trails closed to everyone. Here in Boulder, our local trails have been inundated with visitors since the stay-at-home order began, so we've largely avoided them. But even running from home, mostly on roads, affords so many beautiful moments.


It has been a little strange to begin "training" with no specific goal in mind and nothing to train for. For 2020 I had only two big events planned, the ITI in March, and the Silk Road Mountain Race in August. Since traveling to Kyrgyzstan to race an international event seems increasingly unlikely by August, my friend Danni and I opted to defer our entry to 2021. Beat still has Hardrock 100, the PTL and the Tor des Glaciers on his calendar in July, August and September, but we feel there's a high likelihood of all of these races being canceled. Even if they aren't canceled, the travel is questionable. I've been a little sad about losing these adventures. But in the scheme of things, the setback feels so small that I can't even get that worked up about it. My emotions are too focused on uncontrollable, big-picture stuff, which I can't say is great for my mental health. I'd rather be super bummed about DNFing the Iditarod and giving up a fun bike adventure in Asia, then grief-stricken about the plight of medical professionals and the economic volatility that will affect so many.

Sorry. I intended to keep this post more positive. It's not quite going that way, but I'm trying. I will say that I'm happy to have removed any pressure on myself to build or maintain endurance right now. Instead I can work on cultivating an arguably healthier fitness routine — running for an hour or two a day, absorbing vitamin D, looking at pretty outdoor scenery and building up some happy hormones. Ideally I can stay active without digging myself into too many physical holes — weakening the immune system, generating inflammation, possibly triggering autoimmune reactions that provoke asthma and thyroid imbalance, and everything else that comes with physical stress. 

Still ... it is nice, for reasons of mental health, to still squeeze in a little adventure here and there. Bikes are great for that purpose. If I was training to ride the Silk Road Mountain Race in less than four months, I would be off to a terrible start. So far in 2020 I've logged fewer than 200 cycling miles on Strava, now closing in on month five. April weather has not been conducive to gravel road riding, but I've managed a few lovely rides since I returned from Alaska.

My favorite adventure this month was just over four hours and 42 miles on the bike on April 10. It felt so indulgent, to spend hours climbing and descending these empty roads until the Indian Peaks felt close enough to touch ... I miss those mountains. I've since learned that Colorado's stay-at-home order asks residents to not only ride from home, but also stay within our own counties. This ride put me in a neighboring county, so now I feel guilty. Ah well. Once the roads dry out I do hope to get out for at least one therapeutic ride per week, but I'll have to rework some of my favorite routes to do so in the most responsible way possible. I'm grateful we can still go out and ride bikes. And I don't take it for granted. I acknowledge that restrictions may need to be further tightened, for good reason. 

 What else? It's been an abnormally cold month, with a weather pattern not unlike January — a fluctuating wave of mild temperatures and sunny days followed by deep cold and tons of snow. Our winter supply of firewood was mostly depleted before we left for Alaska, so we've worked to gather more from home. This has been a fun project — Beat taught himself what he needs to know to safely cut down and harvest dead trees, and I help with the hauling. I love hauling. Can you tell? Monotonous, hard labor is possibly my favorite type of exercise, which is why I've taken to sled-dragging so intently. As I've joked with friends: My people weren't made to run fast; we were made to pull plow. But it's still strenuous, heavy-lifting work for which neither of us is fully conditioned, so we both end up feeling quite sore the next day.

 What else? Our goldfish survived yet another winter. The surface ice on our small pond melted, and they've been especially active on sunny days. These fish are the closest thing I've got to a pandemic pet, so I've been doting on them more than usual — throwing fish flakes into the water and sitting on the rocks to watch them swim. Soon the lilies will bloom, the ground around the pond will green up ... and my allergies will probably coax me to spend less time just sitting outside. But for now I am making an effort to appreciate everything that surrounds me, all of the small things that matter the most.
 
For now, with our January-like weather, spring still feels far away. This week, Boulder surpassed its snowiest season on record — breaking a 111-year-old record — with 152 inches. Boulder also was designated the snowiest city in the United States — a city being a place with more than 50,000 residents, and under those parameters the competition isn't even close. I could live this way year-round, especially with typical Colorado sunny days to break it up, although an endless mud season would be trying. Still, I'm always happy about late-season snow.

On Easter Sunday I was finally able to get out for a run on actual trails, mainly because they were covered in a foot of fresh powder and no one else was around. I've been trying to do my part to stay out of crowds, even on my home trails. But I do appreciate them all the more when they're empty.


The snow and slogging continued throughout the week. We were slammed with two big storms over four days, with a big warmup in between (and another warmup now.) Dynamic weather added to the intrigue of venturing just a few miles from home, with high winds, blowing snow, 22-degree temperatures, and enough strenuous trudging to let us both feel like we were back in Alaska. I greatly appreciate these mini-adventures. It's more than enough to keep motivated, keep moving, and find meaning amid the uncertainty and isolation.

How is everyone out there doing? I know, blogs are no longer a medium for any sort of communication beyond the ramblings into the void for those of us who just can't let go. But for those still reading, I wonder how you're coping? How are you navigating this strange time? Leave a comment if you have the time. I will reply. These little bits of human connection and community mean a lot.

Finally, if you enjoyed the recent posts about my 2020 ITI adventure, you might like the 2018 "prequel" in my recent eBook, "Meanwhile the world goes on," available on Amazon. I appreciate your support!

44 comments:

  1. Hi! Good to hear eehm... I mean read from you. We in the Netherlands (another one than yours :-)) are cooped up in what our MP calls an intelligent lockdown. We are allowed outside for shopping and short walks, all to be done on our own. And to go to work if we have an essential job. I myself live in a small town and I still go to work which is indeed essential, I am a hearing aid technician. My saviour in all this is my allotment, I have a big plot exactly one mile from my home. It has never been so well maintained as these last five weeks. It is my gym: indeed hauling loads, digging out trenches for the asperagus and handsawing trunks and big branches into neat logs for the fire. And it is my stress relief, blissful doodling around underneath my gloriously blossoming cherry tree. All the while safely away from all other people. Hang in there, Jill! It will be allright in the end.

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    1. That sounds wonderful. I occasionally daydream about growing a vegetable garden, especially with the prospect of spending all summer at home. But it would be difficult to impossible to keep the mule deer, elk and moose from decimating it. Perhaps one of these days I will plant some tomatoes in pots. Thank you!

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  2. I, for one, still read blogs, and continue to quite enjoy yours! My wife and I are both historians, and we've been on sabbatical leave to work on our research this academic year. We spent the autumn (northern hemisphere) in France working in archives and libraries, and this spring we were set to do a Pacific tour to give lectures and meet colleagues at several universities. We made it to Hawaii and New Zealand...where we've been since February, having canceled plans to continue to Australia, Singapore, Taiwan, and Japan. NZ has been on lockdown for nearly four weeks, with one more to go. Fortunately we're in a situation much like yours, but with less snow (though it's autumn here and the mountains over 1000 m have a beautiful set of snowcaps). We've been walking for 1-3 hours every day, and there are enough roads and footpaths that we are still discovering some unfamiliar stretches. The town only has a few hundred permanent residents, plus a bunch of other folks like us who wound up here when the music went silent, so keeping our distance from other people has been easy. Graduate school in history prepared us well for spending most of our time at home with our thoughts and our laptops. I'm getting back into running after a cascade of illnesses in December and January. And this place is drop dead gorgeous. (Do an image search on "Lake Tekapo" if you want to see, though lupine season is over except for a handful of stragglers.) I miss my bike, and being in the same time zone as family and friends at home (New England), but to be honest, other than the low-level dread that most of us are feeling, I'm doing well.

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    1. Oh wow. Being "stuck" in New Zealand definitely doesn't sound too bad. Like you, Beat and I are mostly happy to be at home with our thoughts and some nearby outdoor spaces to roam. The isolation part of this isn't too hard for us, yet. But that low-level dread about an uncertain future is difficult to manage at times.

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  3. I'm glad that you are still motivated to blog...so many have gone silent. I've backed off but intend to keep going, with or without blog fodder photos and new hikes. I'm getting pretty familiar with every inch of all of our local trails around Lovely Ouray. Mud season and wind chill keeps my bike in the storage shed. I look forward to getting back in the saddle for 4 or 5 hours a couple times a week. Like you I do the NY Times every morning, worrying what lie/stunt/contradiction our Bozo the Clown POTUS will pull off. His side show is worse than the pandemic...
    Box Canyon Mark in Lovely Ouray

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    1. I look forward to seeing more of your photos this spring. We were hoping to visit Ouray again this summer, but it looks less likely that it might happen. But I agree with you. I've tried to mute most of my exposure to anything relating to our president.

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  4. Jill, I really appreciate your decision to continue to blog. Reading your well-written and wonderfully illustrated adventures are a large part of my mental health escapism. What was downtown office work has switched to WFH - but it is still 12+ hours in front of a computer. The mountains I crave are a drive away, one which we are being asked not to undertake. So, I walk on sidewalks and I workout on a spin bike. I love my job, but without the "joy" I get from mini-breaks on sites like yours, I would be suffering. Thank you!

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    1. Ah, your situation does sound trying. I am glad you are still able to find joy in walks and vicarious adventures. I hope you can visit your mountains again soon.

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  5. I hope your thyroid isn't the issue. It will be sort of good to be forced to just enjoy the summer to the extent possible without specific races or such things to worry about. Of course, I'm focused on base building for 2021 so really I'm not sure that counts as just relaxing :p

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    1. Base building is the best! I do hope we can get out for a relaxing bike tour someday in the not-so-far-away future. :)

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  6. Long time reader, but have never commented before. I'm happy many bloggers continue to write. Thank you for posting! Reading how others are coping during these strange times is comforting to me. I've continued writing in my blog too, if nothing else just to document this entire historical event.

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    1. I am like you. I still prefer blogs to any other form of social media, because people tend to share meaningful snapshots of their lives. Thank you for your comment. I will check out your blog.

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  7. I'm glad you still blog. We are few and far between and I do contemplate giving it up at times. I'm still working and I've worked from home for a long time so nothing different there. I did go backpacking in my county last weekend. My friend was supposed to go but she did not, thinking that people would judge even if we hiked separately. I guess a silver lining is that people no longer think solo backpacking is weird. Hope it is not your thyroid, and I know you are still young, but hormone stuff really messes with you starting about your decade.

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    1. I too am glad you are still blogging. I can sympathize with the social shaming happening amid this. I still prefer to use common sense. I am not going to spend four hours riding remote roads with a mask over my face the whole time, but I will pull up my buff while passing a pedestrian. And yes, I accept that thyroid issues may become more difficult to manage as I age. As I watch coronavirus more closely affect people in my outer circle, I hold onto gratitude that every year we get out of life is a gift.

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  8. Many folks, myself included read blogs from work since Facespace is blocked. Your blog and those linked to you are a daily stop in between phone calls! All is well up here in the Black Hills, we get similar crazy weather to yours. Things are pretty much business as usual except for everyone with an office job working from home.

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    1. That's funny. I used to have a job that put a firewall on Blogspot. It was way back even before Google owned it ... 2003-2004. Back when blogs were still a hot new thing. Ha!

      Glad you can enjoy business as usual.

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  9. Yours is really the last blog left of all the blogs I followed. It's not that people stopped blogging so much as they really ran out of things to say. But they're is a rhythm to your year of adventure that I enjoy and I also really love Colorado so it's interesting to see the places you go and the things you discover. You are also a skilled writer which is quite enjoyable.

    I work for another big tech company so I'm still able to work from home. I lost my bike commute but have decided to do a longish ride midday every other day (I try to spend the alternating day with my wife and kids and call my mother who loves alone). I have a hard time keeping these rides to under 3 hours but staying in the county and away from urban trails is relatively easy and a bit of a treat. Roads are quiet and wildlife had been abundant. Our April has been stunning and suddenly I have summer fitness in spring. I'm hoping our country and humanity can come out of this for the better in some way, but so far that is hard to see. In any case, thanks for blogging. I actually read your last book at the same time you were telling your 2020 adventure story on the blog.

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    1. I'm also happy to see more people out and about. Hopefully more people will recognize the value of clean air and outdoor space, and work harder to protect it when (or if) life settles back to normal. Thanks for reading my book!

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  10. Jill - Your blog is way more than "ramblings into the void" for me. I keep coming back because your writings (and photographs) provide me with inspiration and a certain kind of sustenance that nourishes the soul. I just ordered your "Meanwhile the world goes on" ebook. I live in NW Wisconsin in a rural community of just over 2,300 that normally swells in the summer months to at least 20,000 with people coming to second homes from mostly the Twin Cities area. Living in a rural community has its advantages as, until recently, our county and those directly surrounding us, had no confirmed cases of the virus. I'm retired and very grateful to be living in a community where people are very supportive of each other and where there are local food sources independent of the local grocery store. Cycling (road, mtn, gravel) has always been my favorite way to be outdoors and is one of the best ways for me to get some relief from uncertain times. Please keep blogging!

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    1. Wow, that's a huge shift in summer population. I wonder how many of those folks will be returning this summer. I can imagine the locals are wary of this. Hopefully your county will stay virus-free. Sounds like a lovely spot. Thanks for ordering my book.

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  11. It looks like my comment disappeared into the ether. I'll try again.

    I still read all of your blog posts, and not just for the writing, but also the photography. You're constantly posting amazing pictures.

    There's a park less than a mile from where I live which is crossed by some very nice hiking trails, but I haven't been going there; it's too popular. Instead I've been driving a half hour or so to a more rural area where the trails are less crowded.

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    1. Sorry about the disappearing comment. I've heard this as a frequent complaint with these old Blogger blogs. We have a mountain nearby that's something of a secret peak, just a five-minute drive followed by a six-mile roundtrip run/hike. I've been meaning to go there soon.

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  12. I enjoyed your daily/cliffhanger-style reports from this year's ITI. And I'm glad you're still posting beautiful pictures. Stay-at-home in Denver involves sidewalks and looking at mountains far away.

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    1. Thank you! I can relate to looking at mountains far away. My best views of the Continental Divide have come from my weekly trips to my allergist, and driving back toward Boulder on Highway 36. I feel that pull so strongly right now. It's almost funny how much I long to go to the mountains, when I feel I shouldn't.

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  13. Love the pics as always. Elk! More of elk! And love the photo of you pulling a sled full of firewood. That's so Alaskan!

    We are doing well up in Fairbanks. The melt has started. Corrine's been doing a lot of biking. The roads are fairly clear, and she's still hoping to do the Trans-South Dakota and the delayed DKXL. I've been doing some road running (gag me) and skiing. I found some fish-scale skis Corrine bought and then quickly rejected. But they've been great for melting snow. On Saturday I skied out to Lee's Cabin amid wind and rain! That was pretty weird. Anyway, trying to push the limit with skiing has make the spring melt more interesting.

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    1. The elk are definitely in the neighborhood right now. Yesterday I pedaled past a huge herd in the burned hillside at Walker Ranch. They occasionally venture into our yard, but Beat and I figured out that they probably stay away because we live next to a loud dog who prowls through our yard just often enough to keep them away.

      Glad you and Corrine are still getting out and enjoying spring. I've had a couple of experiences with wind and rain in the Whites. One was while Beat and I were heading out to Windy Gap over New Years. That was some weird weather. But I'm envious you can still take trips out there.

      Have to laugh at your road-running. I not-so-secretly relish my gravel road runs. So wide open, nothing to trip over. I haven't hit the deck in months! (Knock on wood.)

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    2. Forgot to comment on the meditation practice that you're doing. I'll be interested to see how that works for you. I've been meditating for several years now, just 10-20 minutes a day. For me benefits have been subtle and slow to come, but they are there. I like it a lot, though. I love the idea of getting into your head in order to get out of your head.

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    3. I've been using the Headspace app. I'm still working through the Basics, and they're really basic ... five minutes a day of focusing on breathing and body placement. But that's been good for me. Over the past few years of breathing difficulties I've developed some bad habits with it. I tend to breathe more rapidly and shallowly. Focusing on calm, deep, diaphragm breathing has been a revelation. For now that's good enough, although I still haven't managed to really shut down the constant barrage of thoughts quite yet. That's always been hard for me, but I continue to work on it.

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    4. Monkey mind! Every once in a while I can shut down the barrage of thoughts for a few seconds. Never lasts though. But that means you just get to practice more! I find it's a useful exercise if I'm trying to go to sleep but my mind wants to race. It usually helps me get to sleep. Not always, but usually.

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  14. I live in London, UK, and we're only supposed to take one hour's exercise a day, which is difficult to keep to. For three years now I've been swimming every day at the Hampstead Heath freshwater ponds, and have built up a tolerance to cold water. Unfortunately, since March 23 these have been closed and look to stay that way for the forseeable future. Hampstead Heath is a great place to run, but I was also accustomed to weekend jaunts to different parts of the UK for hikes and cycling.

    I know we shouldn't complain, but it's tough not being able to leave the city, and also possibly losing my cold water tolerance, which I worked hard to build up.

    Please do keep blogging, Jill! I really enjoy experiencing the snow and mountains vicariously through your writing.

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    1. I have other friends in Europe who have to limit their outdoor time to an hour a day. This would be hard ... I'm glad it hasn't come to that here yet. I think you're justified in feeling sad about the loss of your cold-water tolerance. I hope you can return to your swimming soon enough.

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  15. Jill, this is my first reply to your blog. I've read your whole blog starting from the very first post after finding it when looking for more from the author of "Be brave, be strong". And now that I've reached the head of the blog, leaving a message certainly makes more sense than doing so on a post that's several years old...

    It was interesting to follow your progression through the years in fast motion. At times it felt as if you were part of the family...

    Regarding present times, here in Germany I too am affected by the pandemic, but not too much actually. I'm in a very privileged situation. Having the same profession as Beat, I can perfectly work from home and only miss the daily bike ride to the office. Cycling is not restricted at all, apart from the fact that the cycling routes along the rivers are totally crowded. While I find them boring anyway, they are sometimes useful to cover some distance before heading into hills farther away. The weather is conductive to everybody's outdoor activities with sunny and warm days for so many weeks on end that I've lost count. Not that I would mind some interesting storm systems like you have them, but to find snow, I would always have to travel, which is not possible at the moment... So I'll have to manage by just looking at the beautiful pictures on your blog.

    I'm excited to read that you are considering bike adventures again, even though they may have to be postponed. Bike adventures are what led me to your blog. And your photos kept me hooked, even when you deviated to other means of motion.

    So please keep up your blog and share your pictures and adventures with your fellow audience!
    Your blog has often been an inspiration!

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    1. Thanks for your comment, and thank you for reading. I appreciate that I have this record of the past 15 years, but the scope of this blog is a bit staggering now. Well over 2,000 posts, most of them thousands of words on their own! Every once in a while I re-read old stuff, and it helps me see how I have changed in a decade and a half. I can also see how my "character" may no long be compelling to folks who read my stuff in the beginning. But as I soften my focus away from the sharp end of some of my racing goals, I do hope to embark on more bicycle adventures.

      Glad to hear you're still able to get out for rides, and that your work is still going well. Thanks again.

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  16. Hey Jill..have been wondering how you two are doing....I figured you'd both be doing great as you already live pretty isolated...very cool Beat can work from home. My wife has moved all her office equipment home and now our dining room table is her 'office'. My work (aerospace, gov contractor) is considered "essential" so I'm still working...tho we cut our staff in half and I got stuck on 2nd shift (to reduce the # of people at work at any given time). And we are still on track to fly up to Denver (Buckly AFB) and then drive our equipment over to Boulder mid June...tho I find it hard to believe we will be allowed to go (apparently when you work for the Gov they can do pretty much whatever they want). From Boulder we would then head back to Buckley and fly to the Cape (Florida)...and then finally back home (in all it's a 1 month trip). I'm still having a bit of trouble with the forced travel...it feels more like we are "expendable" than "essential". But on the silver lining, we are still working unlike so very many...so for that part I'm grateful. Gotta run...about time to go be essential. Stay safe everybody!

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    1. Glad to hear things are still going relatively well for you, though I did wince at your comment of feeling "expendable" rather than essential. I sympathize, and hope that you can stay safe amid these forced travels. I hope you're still able to get out for some well-deserved rides. I appreciate all of your comments over the years.

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  17. Thank you for keeping up with the blog. I live in the Midlands of the UK but my partner is in central London and we have not seen each other since March 11th. I do miss our weekends. We should be in Vienna today before heading to Basle tomorrow as part of a Euro train trip. Because I live on my own and retired for almost a decade I am finding it ok as i am used to it. I get out for an hour or two most days on the bike but I live near countryside and it is quiet. Queueing to get into supermarkets seems odd and not stopping for coffee and cake when on a ride is strange as well. Saving money though! Stay safe.

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    1. I was wondering how people in long-distance relationships were coping. I hope it hasn't been too hard. It's funny you mention saving money. I have been spending so much more on groceries and household items since stay-at-home began. I may need to start budgeting.

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    2. Spending more on groceries and household items? Is that because Beat can no longer chow down at Google?

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    3. Yeah, mostly that. I'm also at home more, and my out-and-about habits tend to be cheaper. I'll eat a bar or two rather than lunch. Our combined soda and coffee habit, as you might imagine, has exploded. Finally, I have just a bit of a hoarder mentality and stocked up on things that seem scarce, like paper towels. Hopefully it will all calm down soon.

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    4. You're a good Mormon! Well, except for the caffeine. (And maybe a few other things.) ;-)

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  18. Keep blogging please!!! I wish blogs were not dying. I just caught up on the last few "Days of Innocence," and of course enjoyed the armchair adventures. After spending our first winter in AK and realizing that -15 was my cutoff for outdoor adventures, I still can't imagine doing what you do even in my wildest dreams. Maybe I will toughen over time??

    Alaska, as you know, has not been a bad place to shelter in place. We have local trails from our doorstep, so being responsible to get our daily dose of vitamin D has been easy. On the other hand, we were lined up to start Leave No Trace work on the road 4/15 and have a renter move into our cabin, so the loss of income/health insurance and certainty has been difficult. We are used to being in limbo in our non-traditional life, so we'll just keep riding the waves. And again, Alaska eases the pain!

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    1. There was a short period in mid-March when I believed I might need to start sheltering-in-place in Fairbanks. Back when Beat was still on the Iditarod Trail and I was convinced airports were going to close any day now; Canada was already closed. So I looked into some Air BnBs. It's funny to think back on how convinced I was that the whole world was shutting down, because I felt nervous about marooning myself at the end of the supply chain. That's the one potential issue I can see about living in Alaska. But everything else is pretty amazing, I agree.

      Minus 40 never gets any easier, I think. Friends in Fairbanks seem to mostly agree with this. For me, it's not unlike taking on a technical mountain hike. The adventure itself is unnerving and scary and wracked with discomfort, but the aftermath is so empowering. Knowing, of course, that I will never be not scared of Class 4 scrambling. I will also never be at ease at 40 below.

      Glad you are still blogging as well! I've really enjoyed your recent posts on life in Healy.

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  19. Hi Jill, I'm Chloe in Ottawa.

    I've probably commented once or twice over the years. I've been reading your entries since you lived in Juneau and used the blog to log your bike rides, before that first foot race. I don't read blogs regularly anymore and you're the last "old" blog I read, occasionally lapsing then catching up at once. Your blog is a road not travelled I get to experience through your writings and photos, I love it.

    I'm doing fine and for the first time in my life, wish I lived in the burbs for more outdoor space. I am lucky to be working from home during all this, we're expected to homeschool our kids as they are still being graded so I work a bit of a reduced schedule. All their activities are cancelled till the fall and I'm so glad they're older now and mostly do their own thing.

    I'm also grateful for the guide dog puppy we're fostering since it means a couple long walks daily. We're not allowed to drive to trails and I miss getting out of the city. I miss grocery shopping as it's just as stressful here.

    All in all, we were homebodies to start with and I'm actually not hating having to stay home. Oddly, I feel guilty about this.

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    1. Hi Chloe. Thanks for your comment, thanks for reading all of these years, and thanks for sharing a bit of your day. I'm glad life is still going well for you, although I don't envy parents who now must homeschool their children. I too don't struggle too much with the stay-at-home order. I worked from home before all of this, and often recreated from home, so my life hasn't changed that much. Mostly I miss riding and running with friends, going to my gym, and weirdly I miss having more alone time, now that my partner and I are in relatively close quarters most hours of the day. But I recognize that I have a lot of privilege in this regard, and I try to keep perspective.

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