Spring was in the air today.

Sunday we had a family zoom and shared poems and drawings, my mother shared this spring Haiku:

and this about life in Cambridge:

Most days there's a strange mix of normalcy, loneliness, frustration, and not much contemplation.  Usually followed by the realization that this is NOT about me.  Thinking about medical workers, hospital housekeeping staff, first responders, grocery clerks, pharmacists and delivery people.  Thinking about people living paycheck to paycheck who just lost their paycheck and those struggling to keep small businesses alive. Thinking about people with sick family members and loved ones and those who are sick.

Then remembering a few months is a blip in life. No big deal. Take a deep breathe, wait it out, do what I can to keep the family happy and healthy.  Like the humming bird in the Quechan Fable - I do what I can.

[scroll down for the fable as it was introduced to me by my friend Matt Baatz]
Hover over slide show for forward & backward controls

As told by Matt Baatz:

Today I'm thinking about the value of weekends. We are home either way, weekend or weekday, so does it matter?  No trips to school. No trips to work. No Wednesday Karate or Tuesday pottery.  For me the decision to be in a different mental state changed everything. Today it felt almost like we were home by choice.  Our time was our own.

Today started with the 5:30 am Spartan call. We heard :90 second updates from China, Canada, Spain, South America; updates from military leaders, financial experts, and always a few motivational thoughts. This morning  I gave a quick summary of our Podcast session with the extreme skier Kristen Ulmer who wrote  "The Art of Fear." (see April 3rd). Still but then the day was my own. 

The kids did not have virtual school.  The level of stress they are carrying all week sudennly became clear in its absence.

I took a long walk in the woods behind our house and didn't think about needing to be back for anything. I talked with with family as I walked and only returned home because the battery died.

We talked about the SBA emergency loan program and how complicated it is. We talked about this idea that Jon Levy the behavioral scientist talked about on the podcast: that many of the things that are correlated to longevity are also correlated to happiness. Two of those are 1. your close social network (best friends & family) and 2. your loose social network.  It's that loose social network that we're all missing now.  It leaves a sort of constant dull ache, but with the long calls and the walk in the woods it finally dissipated.

Third on that list is exercise. That's one thing we can control.  So we run every day.

Creativity wasn't on the list, but maybe it should be. 

​Mom challenged all the kids and grandkids to create something - a poem or a drawing - and be ready for a ZOOM show and tell on Sunday evening.I took an hour and sat outside in the sun trying to convey the light hitting two birch trees. No phone. No walls. No computer.  It was great medicine.

On  ZOOM an exceptional example of virtual community with our guest Jeff Gomez.  The topic: transitioning from the "Hero's Journey" to the "Collective Journey" story model, and how that is especially relevant right now.  As our friend Jesse Levin, Tactivate, pointed out - "don't wait for permission to solve problems and help." Jeff Gomez said:

The days blend together.  I checked my photos and could not recall which things happened on which day.  I formatted the card after yesterday's post, so I know these are all from the last 24 hours:

In the evening I learned that at least one of my kids finds it painfully boring to play scrabble.  Can you guess which one? 

Last night Wilbur (sr) introduced Mac to the great classic "Lonesome Dove," a little cowboy break from all the sci-fi fantasy he usually reads.

In a surprising moment of agreement both of my parents insisted I should not be using the couch with a sheet on it for the dog as my ZOOM background. I put up our old podcast backdrop. Some days I join Joe's 5:30 am ZOOM call, every day I co-host our 2:00 Spartan Up podcast call. Zoom is everywhere.  The boys are learning what it's like to work from home - juggling homework and zoom meetings for school.

Today I gave a quick synopsis of lessons from extreme Kristen Ullmer's  interview:

And - just like before isolation, we run every day. I caught Wilbur returning from his run:

Today I went shopping. The first time away from the house (other than my daily run) since Saturday.  It was a pleasure to get away from the computer, to clear my head. I thought - how lucky I am that I'm not living paycheck to paycheck and we have food to put on the table, how lucky I am that I have time to come shop unlike the front line first responders and medical personnel, how lucky I am that I live in town where even with shortages most of the shelves are full, how lucky I am that  I was able to shop for my mom when I last saw her on March 10th, how lucky I am that my father keeps a huge store of food and doesn't need to go to the grocery store, how lucky I am the the the clerks and workers continue to work, stay friendly, checking us out and stocking the shelves.  There were a few empty shelves.  I haven't seen toilette paper on a store shelf for weeks, no alcohol or thermometers, not much pasta or rice, the fresh produce was a little sad today - kale and broccoli wilted, no flour - but the whole chickens were back, and there were a few small bottles of chlorox today. There was more than enough to bring home and keep everyone not just fed, but happy with their favorite things.

I enjoyed the ritual of wiping down the groceries.  A little time outside just "doing."

Maybe it's unnecessary.  I do the up side, down side calculation.  Worst that happens if I wipe it all down - I waste 15 minutes. Worst that happens if I don't - Someone gets sick. Best that happens if I wipe it all down - I save someone from getting sick. Best that happens if I don't wipe it all down - I save 15 minutes. Easy decision.

Early in the morning, walking the yard before anyone else is up, it could be any early spring day.

But then things get rolling. And the surreal reality we live in reemerges. I won't be taking the kids to school, or lining up a meeting for coffee in town, I won't be scheduling in person shoots and interviews or travel.  I'm still editing & publishing podcasts, still taking the dog out, still enjoying my morning coffee.  New on the list: getting things in order for today's live Zoom call.  Today's guest was Bruce Babashan.  He was one of the most powerful speakers yet.  He talked about how he is coaching his athletes:

Our friend Kressa Peterson, founder of Shower Toga, was on the call too. She has been sending her products free to medical workers and first responders who have been changing and showering outside of their homes so they don't expose their families to the virus.  Processing and verifying requests has become overwhelming emotionally.  She said "I thought I was the kind of person that could handle this...maybe I'm not." In a few seconds both she and Bruce (and many of us) had tears in our eyes.  Even those of us safe at home have been feeling this slow, continuous, build-up of pressure. Bruce told her she is strong enough, and the tears and emotion are sure signs that she is a genuine person and shouldn't change. He shared some stories about fighters - famous ones facing fear each time they go into the ring, and the young athletes he coaches keeping training on track when food and money might be scarce and the future of their sport is uncertain.

It's a strange thing - committing to a daily photo journal during a period of time marked by lack of activity or variety.  Today was a day (another day) of virtual contacts.

AT two, our daily Spartan Up podcast Zoom call has provided an opportunity for deeper connection with our audience and some of our favorite podcast guests, and a place to keep focused on growth. Today Mark Divine talked a lot about breath, and inner self.

In the evening  the joining of virtual and actual.  Sunset and a call with grandma.

​Most of the day is spent in front of computers, creating an artificial sense of space between us.  It's these moments, moments of real connection, whether virtual or actual, that stand out.

Today's focus: it's not always easy. 

We're lucky, but that doesn't mean it's always easy.
We're using all the tools in the toolbox to fight stress and to fight cabin fever.  Sometimes we argue.  Sometimes I say something I wish I hadn't.  But we're a family.  And we also laugh, hug and move on.

​The boys can't hang out with friends. They spend too much of time on the computer in virtual school. They also play tag with the dog, play D&D via Zoom chat, and watch 30 Rock with their mom.  Thank G-d for 30 Rock! 

I do my best to do the things that make me easier to be around: eating well, getting enough sleep, running every day, watching 30 Rock with my kids, reaching out to the people I love, reaching out people I like, hugging the dog, taking photos every day, and finding ways to be of service.

We're lucky. 
We live in a rural spot that allows us to get outside.
We have food on the table.
We can still make each other laugh.
And we're healthy.

Yesterday was Saturday.  What to do Saturday night? We took a walk around downtown Woodstock, Vermont.  Empty as it was, it felt good to get out.  We saw surprisingly few people out walking.  All the shops were closed, for years as a videographer we took extreme measures to could get photos of storefronts without the traffic and cars in the foreground.  Last night it was easy. Many shops are still finding ways to serve (Yankee Bookshop offers porch deliveries, Woodstock pharmacy is serving prescriptions at the door.)

It's only morning, but off to a good start.  

​No, life's not perfect. We get frustrated, we argue, but we keep it in perspective.  I like to focus on the positive, it makes me feel good. Here's Some of the things that made me happy this morning.

It's hard to say when the "quarantine" started, or even what to call it.  It's been a gradual process that now has keeping more and more to ourselves. I'm still working, still producing the Spartan Up podcast and other content for Spartan, still working to to help our audience stay strong, positive & productive.  And yet - there's a sense of disconnection. 
-
I decided to challenge myself to take daily photos of this experience. There will be a lot of the dog Trooper (the most willing photo subject,) and some of my family, lots of nature and I hope some around town. So..Day one was marked by gorgeous morning light.  The day started with a smile.

It became "the" tough day.  There's always one where the reality hits.  That was today.  The announcement that school would not reopen this spring, big cuts in contracts, none of it was surprising. It will pass, tomorrow will be another day.  The people I love are all healthy.  We're truly fortunate.

A few classic Spartan Death Race photos featuring many who have become the rock stars of the Spartan Race / Peak Races world: Amelia Boone, Isaiah Vidal, Yancy Culp, Robin Crossman, the Borden Family, Johnny Waite, Pete Coleman, Ella Kociuba, Rob Barger, Jason Jaksetic, Josh Fiore and many others!  If you notice a name I missed, leave it in the comments please!

6 days on Vermont's Long Trail, the "log" is just a list of distances and mishaps, but here's what it meant to me:

It was hard, but there were only a few moments where hard escalated to frustrating.  I loved the feeling of climbing, drenched in sweat, heavy pack on my back, pushing up the mountain and covering ground. Hard yes, but gloriously so.

I loved living outdoors. Being outdoors 24 hours a day. Cooking, eating, working, resting, sleeping outdoors. I loved the mornings, waking up to the sun and coffee with the view the sound and the smell of the mountains.

I loved most of all the undistracted time with my sons. God, I'm proud of them! I loved the fits of uncontrolled giggling at slug handholds, and "toilet issues," and our lack of musical ability. I loved our call and response versions of "Winnie the Pooh," "Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer" and "If I Had a Hammer" along with the "Rocky" theme.  We were desperate enough to sing  "My Country Tis of Thee" but drew the line at "the Alphabet Song" and "Happy Birthday." We studied the way of the slug (slimy but sticky) and harnessed our inner "Warrior Bear Spirit - Winnie the Pooh." They told me a lot about things they are more interested in than I am (Warhammer, D&D, remote control planes) but I had time to listen and I loved it!

I loved the pride we felt each time we reached a peak, and each time one of them took the lead when one or the other would have a surge of energy and propel us forward.

Even the very hard night when we were only "pretty sure" we'd make it to the shelter before dark, when we were all exhausted and the trail markings seemed sparse in the swampy dark section of the woods, when their spirits and energy were at their lowest I loved watching them keep moving, keep making good decisions, looking for blazes, measuring time and distance, weighing options and finally arriving.  I love the reminder that hard times will happen, but they can be overcome and they do pass.

I loved the beauty and variety of terrain. The stunning views, mossy emerald walkways, dense forest, rocky climbs, dirt paths, swampy dark woods, ladders, and twisted trees. So many times we stopped to admire, observe and photograph.  I loved the bird songs cutting through the woods or sparking on the rays of sunshine. I loved the fresh green smells.

I'm home now, I slept better in my own bed and with the rain falling outside I'm grateful for the roof over my head.  But a part of me misses that feeling.  Misses living outside. Misses the simplicity. I am SO grateful for the time with my sons without distraction I hope they feel a sense of strength, power, self-reliance, and pride.


MORE BLOG POSTS

The "parade" is small. This year no band, just a small color guard, kids in red white and blue on their bikes, and a good turnout of neighbors.  Every year the historical society makes sure that the grave of each veteran is decorated with a flag and a poppy. Monday morning the town gathers on the green and walks the circle to lay a wreath on the monument. Next the neighbors fall in behind the color guard and bikes and file into the cemetery.  Tributes are read, taps played, and that's it.  A perfect thoughtful tribute.  Simple.  Straightforward. Today we honor those who sacrificed for us.  Today we remember the importance of freedom and democracy and gratitude. 

Sometimes attending an event is about taking photographs, capturing it, sometimes attending an event is about the event.  This was about the event.  The photos, I hope, tell the story in spite of that.  A small town, remembering lives lost and honoring the greater principles that give those sacrifices meaning.

There really is nothing better than a sunny spring day on the trails photographing Ultra Runners!  Especially when I get to bring my son as an assistant.  here are a few of my favorites.  There's a collection of about 200 on Peak's Facebook page.

How do you tell a story of struggle and triumph? How do you show how truly and astonishingly difficult an endeavor is ... and how do you do that in a way that expresses the power and triumph experienced in overcoming that challenge?  We used to depend on the narrative arc of a movie or a book, but we no longer tell or consume stories in a linear fashion.  Today each image needs to stand on its own, and at the same time be part of a narrative expressed via multiple channels, sometimes simultaneously.  

This weekend I photographed a 60 hour endurance event called the Spartan Agoge.  Here are some of my favorite photos from the weekend.  Ones that I hope show the strength, joy, suffering and transcendent determination the participants experienced. 

In 1992 I moved to a town of about 500 people, nestled in the heart of Vermont’s Green Mountains. In the preceding few years I had moved a lot — Boston, New York City, Chicago, Aspen, Rockport, Maine — I thought I’d only be here for a a season. I was always up for the next challenge and that year I decided staying in the same place would be my challenge. 25 years later I’m still here. I’ve seen a lot of people come and go. Some thrive, most can’t hack it. The economy is tough, there aren’t enough people to support most businesses, everything’s closed by 8, it’s a 30 minute drive to the grocery store; and yet I stay.

Life in a small town teaches you surprising lessons: tolerance, humility, self reliance, and to be yourself.

Tolerance.
This comes as a surprise to most people. Small towns look pretty homogeneous from the outside. And in many ways they are. But when I lived in big culturally diverse cities like New York and Boston, I chose who I surrounded myself with. I spent almost all of my time with people that shared my interests and thought like me.

When I first moved here I used to joke “I only have 7 friends, and I don’t even like any of them.” What did I mean? I meant that in the outside world I wouldn’t have chosen any of those people to hang out with.

In a small town you become friends with the people around you, even if they’re different from you. That opens your eyes. And then there are the people you don’t like. You may not like them, but you nod good morning when they hold the door for you, and you thank them the first time they pull your car out of a ditch, or find your runaway dog, and you come to see their humanity.

Humility.
You may feel superior, but you’re not. A small town will teach you that.

Self Reliance.
I remember the time we called the police and they told us there had been a big crash on the highway and the State Troopers wouldn’t be able to come for a few hours. That was a wake up call. But it’s more than that. It’s a culture of doing for yourself and your neighbors, not waiting for the proper authorities.

I’ve written a lot about our town’s experience in Hurricane Irene (www.floodbound.com,) during that storm 10 homes in a town of 500 people were destroyed and the town was completely cut off from the outside world. The height of the storm found neighbors cutting and clearing downed trees to try to save the bridge, and others cooking and setting up hot food to support them. It wasn’t anyone’s job, it was just something that needed to be done. The town had no school, police or hospital but had acting sheriffs, a school on the green, and a medical center in our one room library staffed by doctors, nurses, PAs and even ski patrollers.

The power company said it would be weeks before they reached us, what they didn’t know was that we would reach them. Our residents stepped up and started fixing roads.

It’s a simple concept. If you see something that needs to be done, and you have the ability, you do it.

Be yourself.
In bigger towns I had my work self, my home self, my school self, and probably some others. Remember the Seinfeld episode where “worlds collide?” In a small town there is only room for one version of you. There’s no use pretending. It’s freeing. If they like you, they like you. You as you are. They’ve already seen your mistakes.
Will I stay here another 25 years? I don’t know, it might be time for another change. But whatever I decide, this place has made and indelible imprint on me for the better.

**originally published in Medium**

Abigail Sera is a true Spartan. A friend talked her into trying her first Spartan Race in Killington, she signed up in the open category but ended up with a better time than most of the pros. That didn't change anything for her, she went back to work patrolling Vermont by snowmobile in winter and by boat in summer.  Last winter I traveled to her family farm in Vermont to meet and interview her.  Now you'll see  her in this season's NBC coverage of the Spartan Race series and Spartan's latest lifestyle commercials.

Next time you see me ask me to tell you the rabbit story...

Photos from this years Spartan Winter Agoge Vermont, USA.

Click on any of the images to see them full screen.