It's kind of funny to think that the last time I saw my DSLR, it was looking back at me. February 29th. My life had just taken a huge turn — after 22 years of pole vault, I decided to retire, and I went to the photo studio to take some self-portraits that would hopefully capture how unmoored and adrift I felt in that moment.
Little did I know, another huge turn was just around the corner. Little did I know that "unmoored and adrift" was going to be the theme of the year.
After so many years of sprinting, it was a double-surprise that I've spent this whole year at walking pace. Looking down. Up. Around. Generally, not worrying about moving quickly, and trying not to worry that everything was suddenly moving so slowly.
I reveled in walks with friends, which were among the few forms of in-person socialization that were still allowed under our shelter-in-place order. And during those walks, I found new perspectives on the world. I found that I suddenly had the time to appreciate moments that had often felt so brief up until that point.
And as I continued to spend less time out and about, and more time at home, I took more of that time to appreciate the small vignettes that I could find right outside…
Or right inside…
But gradually, "sudden shift" transformed into "new normal," and my perspective on the world had also shifted. I had somehow acclimatized to pandemic life. And it was time to shift again. I tried not to stop looking down, but I also started looking up a bit more.
And I started looking out a bit more.
Maybe it's time to keep looking?
