Yay! I’ve Just Become a Verified Book Author

Let me give you the history of my sports/travel memoir

It’s always nice to wake up to a positive notification. Today, I learned that I am now a “verified book author.” You can see the thumbnail of the cover beneath my author profile, and if you click on it, it goes to the Amazon page (click here to become a verified author).

The book is titled Beyond Birkie Fever, and it was originally published by Rhemalda Press in 2010. Of everything I’ve written, I’m most likely to be recognized for this book. I don’t get recognized often, but this book is on a niche subject: cross-country skiing.

The title refers to the American Birkebeiner which is the country’s largest cross-country ski race. It’s essentially the Boston Marathon of cross-country skiing. It’s run on a grueling 50km (31 miles) course in Northern Wisconsin at the end of February.

People have asked me to explain the race, and I always say, “Skiing the Birkie is like running a marathon while also doing dips.”

There’s a lot of intensity that goes into cross-country skiing. Northern Wisconsin is kind of a rugged place to live. We’ll train when it’s ten degrees below zero. These days, I don’t go out when it’s much colder than that because it does too much damage to your lungs.

To put it simply, my life would be radically different if not for the American Birkebeiner. I grew up in a racist, ignorant little rural town that cared nothing about the outside world. Fortunately for me, the outside world came to my doorstep once a year.

By random chance, I grew up 30 minutes away from where the American Birkebeiner is held.

Weirdly, Wisconsin doesn’t really celebrate this event like it should (though it’s getting better). I bet that there are few people in Massachusetts who haven’t heard of the Boston Marathon, but there are a ton of people in Wisconsin who haven’t heard of the American Birkebeiner.

When you say the name, they tilt their heads and look at you funny, “The Berka-whatsa?”

So, I perceived there was a need for the book.

Through the Birkie, I met people from all over the world. I discovered safe landing spots in Europe and Australia. I realized that there are communities of healthy, happy individuals who valued personal development and education.

Soul nourishment. That’s what I got.

Also, I’ve always been captivated by the challenge of the event.

Skiing 50km over tough terrain in the middle of a Wisconsin winter is HARD.

This year, I completed my 20th American Birkebeiner. That puts me in a small group called the Birchleggers. I think there are less than 2,000 of us.

The older I get, the more I become aware of my own mortality, and the more I appreciate the Birkie. When I was young, I did my best to be a cracker-jack skier. I got pretty good, but I was nowhere close to elite. My best running marathon is a 3:29 (I’ve always had too thick a frame to be a runner, but upper body strength helps you in skiing).

I do the Birkie these days just to keep myself honest about fitness and diet. The wheels can fall off fast if you don’t maintain the vehicle, and I have young daughters I have to keep up with for… well, as long as possible (girls need their daddy, or “papito” as they call me).

My 70+-year-old mom still does the Birkie, it’s a family tradition. The Birkie has taught me that you don’t have to submit to losing your mobility as you age. It’s easy to get caught up in the American healthcare disaster where doctors just stuff you full of pills. Eventually, you start taking pills to combat the side effects of the other pills.

It’s better to eat right and exercise. Yeah, you can get away with not doing that in your 30s and early 40s, but I’m discovering that I have to take things more seriously if I want to squeeze as much marrow as possible out of my meager allotment of life.

Cross-country skiing is good for the soul. Even to this day, I feel childlike wonder when I wake up to a blanket of new-fallen snow. I still pause and let that sensation wash over me.

Did you know that snow sparkles like diamonds when it’s fresh? It does!

But it’s not enough to look at sparkling snow through the window. You have to get out in it. You have to ski under burdened branches that flex and cause flakes to flutter down all around you.

That sharp winter air is a delight as well. When you get home, a warm shower and a meal after being out in the cold provide you with a level of satisfaction you rarely reach in life.

Skiing is a way to “turn down the volume.” After the Birkie, I feel a contentment that lasts for a week. The stress of life evaporates. I gain perspective. I’m exhausted. I get warm. I get fed. I am content.

It gives you a real awareness of the pettiness of your daily concerns. I wish I could feel like that on the other 51 weeks of the year.

Beyond Birkie Fever started as a series of articles for the regional sports magazine. I’d written seven or eight articles and been paid a couple of hundred bucks for each of them. When I laid them out, I realized a pattern emerged, so I connected the dots and created a book. I ended up essentially rewriting the original articles in the process.

I wrote the book when I was doing my student teaching and my wife was pregnant. It was an interesting time, to say the least, I had a lot on my plate.

There is a small potential audience for a book about cross-country skiing, but the readers who are out there are deeply committed to the sport. Among some skiers, reading Beyond Birkie Fever has become an annual tradition. It’s like The Night Before Christmas, it’s something you revisit when you start to get excited about the season.

I take a lot of pride in that!

I’ve written books for a couple of different small publishers. The largest publisher I’ve worked with is Perseid Press which is owned and operated by Janet Morris. Morris wrote some of the Thieves’ World books for Baen back in the 70s. Perseid published a sort of sequel to BBF, which is titled Reckless Traveler. That book deals with the ten years I spent living in Lima, Peru.

Beyond Birkie Fever performed well when it first came out. It was actually released about the same time my business partner and I opened our retail bike and ski shop. That was a bit of a risk because it would have been embarrassing if the book had tanked, but fortunately, it was well-received.

Come to think of it, I’ve always had a good feeling about this book. It was the first time I sent off a manuscript to a publisher and I just knew it was going to be accepted. One reviewer said the first chapter reminded her of Calvin & Hobbes which might be the best compliment I’ve ever received.

I appreciate that Rhemalda took a chance on that book. They were just the type of publisher I was looking for: a small husband-and-wife team. We were going to take over the world. Unfortunately, they had to shut down after a few years because of a health-related issue (today they’re doing fine). They reverted the rights of all the books in their catalog back to the authors which was kind of them.

When I wrote Beyond Birkie Fever, my foremost objective was to write something people could actually read. I think sometimes the aspirations of writers are too ambitious. They want to write something that rattles civilization down to its very foundations. But… if your readers can’t make it all the way through the book then that’s not going to happen.

Come to think of it, writing a book people can actually read might be a more difficult objective than I originally thought.

Every year when the Birkie approaches, I see sales trickle in. People reach out to me who have a fondness for the book. I run a small publication on cross-country skiing. The articles I post there don’t make any money because they’re for too much of a niche market, but they generate some book sales. Also, that publication just looks like Christmas morning to me. It makes me happy.

Cross-country skiers are hearty folk. I love them! They’re as tough as nails and they’re always positive. Basically, everything I’m proud of about myself has its roots in cross-country skiing. Skiers don’t expect anything to be easy, but we put our heads down and get to work. Inch by inch, we enjoy the journey as we make our way to the finish line.

Beyond Birkie Fever is hardly a bestseller, but it sells. In a way, my journey as a writer parallels my experience as a cross-country skier. Some writers get catapulted into the lead. They get major contracts. They get huge media attention.

As for me, it’s an inch at a time, every advancement is earned. I’m fine with that because I’m not going to quit. I’ve been featured at a few book festivals, and the libraries like to have me as a featured speaker, I keep accumulating little scraps of status as a writer and I’m proud about each and every one of them.

Most importantly, I’m happy that people have read this book and enjoyed it. It makes people laugh.

Perhaps Beyond Birkie Fever lets people put aside their concerns for a while. It turns down the volume on your petty stresses and gives you something to be hopeful about. That was my intent, anyway, and I think it’s achieved that for a few people.

So, I’m grateful for the Birkie. I’m grateful for the original publishers. I’m grateful for the people who have read it. I’m grateful for the people who have left reviews (although I have received a few vindictive reviews as a result of my political writing).

Ha ha! People get so mad at me that they track down my work on Amazon to leave nasty comments, I guess that means I must be doing something right!

Today, I’m also grateful that the book is recognized on this platform. Inch by inch right? Cross-country skiing has taught me that we must always celebrate our achievements. Progress is progress no matter how small.

Not everyone gets to enjoy the privilege of years. Life is a marathon, not a sprint. Enjoy the journey!

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