In our new post-COVID work-remote environment, my marketing colleagues and I have conference calls daily. Occasionally these calls are not held for talking through specific projects, but are instead meant for us to simply catch up and connect. This is an essential practice for any team now that the “How was your weekend?” desk flyby doesn’t happen in our new work-remote reality.
During one recent call a colleague mentioned that he did an exercise with his employees to help sustain that connection. He and his team brainstormed their five most important moments in their life. Previously I had heard of this exercise, but had yet to experience myself. So, a few weeks ago I closed my work laptop at 5PM and did some reflecting.
What has been important for me? What stands out in my memory?
The Reflection Exercise
Without formal guidelines, my operational definition was that these moments didn’t have to be good, bad or whatever. They just had to be important and influential to my life story and journey. My process then was to reflect and refine the list that came to mind. And with an editorial lens, I had to pick just five total moments—a small total for a 39-year-old with a strong memory and a passion for storytelling. The order of the list wouldn’t be importance because they don’t rank in my mind in any way beyond chronological. Ok, let’s give this a try:
Why You Should Do This Too
It’s easy to lose perspective when life doesn’t go your way: you don’t get the job you wanted, the girl/guy you pined for, or your dream vacation falls apart. That’s life. However, by reflecting on the momentous moments of one’s life, you might realize that when sometimes things don’t work out one way, they work out in another way you might not have realized previously. Try it out.
My Five Most Important Moments in My Life:
1999: “You’ve Got to Own It”
That’s me on the left circa 1999, along with my Uncle Joel, Father Rich and Brother Mike (Left to right). What were my plans? Where was I going? I had no idea. Notice the Newburgh Mall customer service embroidered polo.
I was 18 at the time. While I had graduated from high school this was a year and a half later. I wasn’t in college now (dropped out of community college classes) or any school and had no path in sight. I was working my night job at a mall customer service desk (adorned in a blue logo-wear polo—stylin’). This wasn’t terrible work, but definitely didn’t scream career or life direction, and barely paid enough for gas or car insurance to get to the job.
One evening while taking a momentary break from renting out strollers and issuing gift cards, I rang my Mom at home to check in. During this call—in a moment of self-pity—I complained about my situation, lack of direction and motivation, and ‘crumby mall job’.
After patiently listening for a few minutes, my Mom cut in. With her New York Italian-American accent she encouraged, “You’ve got to own this”, and reminded me I was over 18 now. By ‘own’ she meant my life and decisions—it was mine for better or worse, and as a [young] adult I was now in charge. While her words stung on the phone, within a few minutes of hanging up I knew exactly what my Mom meant. By the end of my shift at 9:30PM I didn’t just begrudgingly accept my Mom’s guidance, I heard it as a rallying cry.
“I DO own this… and I will figure this out..”
My mother’s words ignited a fire inside me that eventually lead me to college, to the Northwest, to a career and to the life I have now. I couldn’t be more grateful for her kick in the pants. And this simple parental truth keeps on giving to this day—twenty years later. Thanks Mom (you were right)! I hope I’ve made you proud with the choices I’ve made since that most important call.
2005: “I’m Moving to Seattle”
DC was a loved place, but would it be my future?
During college, I had the fortune to take an internship working for the US Government in D.C.—two internships in fact. The first involved working during the boiling DC summer for the USDA on a communications team. The second was longer, more intensive and involved working for a communications department serving the US Supreme Court. I grew particularly close to my colleagues there and felt proud to enter the Thurgood Marshall Building each day and walk past the sculpture of the namesake and deceased Supreme Court Justice. This is why I was particularly thrilled to get a job offer a few months later in my last semester of school. The offer was to join the same team once I finished school in June. Plus, I loved DC and already had a friend network in the city. All I had to do was finish school and a whole new chapter of my life would begin.
The most fleeting of things would interrupt this plan.
In February 2005—just months from graduating—I was watching the 24/7 news channel Headline News one afternoon. The ticker tearing across the bottom of the cluttered screen announced a stat that would forever change my life. It say “2004 Study: Seattle most athletic/active city in US.” I ignored the talking heads and other stock market analysis and zeroed in on that single factoid. Despite having never visited the Pacific Northwest or having friends or family there, that little fact immediately made the city captivating to me.
Should I move there instead?
I had become physically active in college—adding 25 lbs of muscle to my frame from weight lifting, while also mixing in 5k runs, rock climbing and more recently, road cycling. As I wrapped up my senior year being active for me was no longer a pastime or just a way to stay fit. While I still wouldn’t consider myself an athlete until years later, being outside and challenging myself physically had begun to take hold as a core part of identity. That evening on a call with my parents I asked them if they had any friends in Seattle. My Mom did!
“Yes, my friend’s sister lives out there. If you’d like, I could ask if Sara could tour you on a visit.”
“Absolutely!”, I replied. Just a few days later I booked a flight for the upcoming Spring break, just a few weeks away.
Sarah Sausner was a student at the University of Washington. During my four day visit she showed me around the gorgeous college filled with rows of brick buildings and cherry blossom trees overflowing with pink petals. We had beers at hip, local pubs, and even took a day trip up north to Deception Pass State Park where I saw my first Bald Eagle out in nature (not on a flag or nature documentary).
“I didn’t even know those were still alive”, I offered in amazement.
By the time I was walking through security at SeaTac on my journey home, my mind and heart was set. I would decline that job with the Federal Judiciary and skip moving back to my loved DC. Instead I knew I had to find a way to Seattle. When I announced this to my college friend Leon he was surprised by the news.
“Moving to Seattle? Really? How far is that from Denver?”, he asked.
“It’s sorta close—kinda like NY and Rhode Island. You should move with me”, I replied. I knew he loved Colorado and was considering it as one option for his post-college life. It’s just neither of us realized how big the America West is—nothing like the compact New England. Luckily, I did end up moving to Seattle in the summer of 2005, along with Leon and his girlfriend, and later a half dozen other friends from college.
This migration was inspired all by information momentarily displayed on a Headline News ticker. And I couldn’t be more thankful for how my life zigged and zagged to get here.
July 2005: Leon (center), his girlfriend Sarah (right) and a random stranger I met on Craigslist, Ari (left), and me (bottom) all pack into our two cars and start the long drive West.
2009: “See You on the Flip Side”
My underbite caused tremendous strain on my TMJ joint. Eventually I realized I had to bite the bullet and get braces at the age of 26. (Note: A soul patch? Hopefully the surgeon chopped off, too.)
I was laying on the hospital gurney with an I.V. in my left arm, paper cap wrapping my head, and a gown covering the rest of the my body. In less than a minute I was about to go under major surgery to break, realign and screw back together both my lower and upper jaws. This had been a journey to get to this moment. Surprisingly, I wasn’t nervous. I had committed myself long ago so at this precipice I just wanted to leap and get it done with.
“You’ll want to start counting down from a hundred”, the anesthesiologist instructed.
“Ok, I’ll see you on the flip side.”
This was my actual, cringe-y statement before I started counting and the doctor pushed drugs into my IV. I guess in the moment I wanted to project confidence even though I wasn’t sure what I would experience post-surgery, or even what I would look like. Within a numeral or two the drugs kicked in and I fell unconscious.
The purpose of this major surgery was to have both of jaws realigned from a significant underbite to a traditional alignment—removing the strain that had built up throughout my 20s on my TMJ joint. This required me to have metal braces for about a year before the surgery (yah, dating!). I also had them throughout my recovery which lasted another year. Little did I know that this surgery would unlock a whole new chapter for me: life as a runner. But first, food through a straw.
My post-op x-ray showing all the titanium screws and plates now holding my face together.
To my luck the surgery immediately set my bite into the planned orientation and reduced the strain on my TMJ joint. While my face was swollen for months after the surgery, I had confidence I was on the right path. One expected side-effect from jaw surgery was that my jaw was banded shut. Like entirely closed with multiple layers of powerful bands (not the regular braces type). Since the only way to get calories into my body involved slurping in beef broth into the side of my closed grin, I lost a lot of weight, and very quickly. While I wasn’t terribly overweight before the surgery, I was far from my trimmest. This changed quickly nearly overnight. A month post-op and I had dropped 30+lbs and now looked and felt fantastic.
I was able to start walking outside within a few weeks, and within a few months I started to get back to hiking and light running even when rubber bands still partially secured my mouth. Having lost so much weight, I realized a new spring in my step. This seed of activity grew. Within a few months of getting my braces off I had started to push my running endurance—going further than my previous record of three miles. One afternoon I went down to the loved trail around Greenlake in Seattle. What started as a three mile run expanded to six, and then twelve and then a half marathon of 13.1!
At 28 I began running marathons and eventually found my way to trail races and ultramarathons. In the decade since I’ve completed over 100 ultramarathon races or events, and even earned six belt buckles—each awarded for finishing a 100-mile mountain endurance race.
Beyond the distances I was able to achieve, I internalized a new identity: the athlete, the runner and the adventurer. I loved it. And this was all at least partially due to a surgery that fixed my jaw and unlocked an even bigger capacity.
2014: “I’m Not Coming Home”
Driving South on I-5 I got a call that changed the trajectory of my life, but also taught me a lesson in perseverance.
I had been married for just over a year. I knew our relationship was under strain—from finances, my anxiety from a job search, and a potential move out of Seattle. I wasn’t happy. My wife wasn’t happy. Worst still, we weren’t be honest about the state of things.
I was still an optimist.
With my focus on the specific problems my wife and I faced, I put my head down and did what work I could: baking homemade bread, taking low-cost trips around Seattle, and finding small ways to try to rekindle the magic. I knew as soon as we overcame these obstacles we’d be back in the loving, connected partnership we had build over the past three years of dating, and 12 months of marriage.
That’s why the call was so heartbreaking when I got it.
A few days earlier my wife told me she was staying the night at a friend’s house and would be back the next day, Friday. When she didn’t return that evening, or the next, I knew she had to be more conflicted on her feelings. We talked on the phone and she said she needed the weekend to herself. I prayed that time would cool tempers. And anyway, life had to go on.
I had a job interview in Hood River, Oregon on Monday, so I packed up my dog in a rental car and started my 200+ mile drive south. My plan was to stay at a hostel on Sunday evening, and then go into my job interview with the CEO Monday morning. During that interview I knew I’d have to put on virtual mask (essential to clarify when reflecting in a post-COVID world) and fake that I was not vulnerable, depressed, unemployed, and on the verge of a divorce, but I knew I could do that. I could do anything to pull myself and my family out of this morass. This was my plan… at least until I got the call from my wife.
“Pull over. You should pull over.” she said.
”Ok, one second.” I sheepishly offered as I steered the car to the nearest exit outside of Centralia, Wa, pulling onto a cinder-laden side road adjacent to the highway.
This was the first time I had heard her voice since she left our apartment a few days earlier.
Then it happened. She told me the news.
“I’m not coming home.”
In a calm and prepared tone she told me that she was leaving me and moving to New Zealand to be with her family. Her words carried no anger and were shared in an emotionless delivery like she was ordering from a ticket booth.
I couldn’t stop sobbing.
My voice was mute not because I didn’t have anything to say, but because I had too much to say and was chocked by a mixture of shock, heartbreak and disbelief. The rest of the conversation was a blur, but must had included repeated questions followed by a few statements about practical affairs. It was hard for me to get words out.
I couldn’t talk. I couldn’t breathe.
After I hung up I took a good half hour to compose myself before getting back into my car, drying my eyes and continuing my drive south. I completed the job interview the next day simply by taking things one step at a time and by putting on my most charming grin. I was in a storm, but I had put faith in the idea that I would figure things out. I knew I could get through this trauma by focusing on the single moment I was in, and then the next, and the next.
By sundown I was back at my apartment in Seattle, interview complete but world afire. Despite this turmoil, I used this skill over and over again during this period—getting through the hour, day and week: starting a new job, getting a divorce and moving to a new apartment. I learned how to be resilient and have faith that I would figure things out. To my luck, I did, and they did. Yes this was a difficult memory, but in a sense I am lucky to have experienced it.
2016: Becoming a Filmmaker
Interviewing adventurer Dick Kresser for Dick’s RASH
My manager a VP of Communications at the travel and tech company Expedia had news for me.
“I’m leaving and our team is going to split and merged with two other groups.”
I was shocked. She had hired me less than a year earlier. I knew this merge in teams could potentially cause trouble for my career with the tech giant, especially since my new boss didn’t get along with my old boss. Soon I had my answer.
I was being laid off along with a most of the others from our now defunct team.
“What am I going to do?,” I asked myself.
Get stressed? Hunker down? Fixate? No, not this time.
After getting the news I walked around the Bellevue, Wa headquarters while planning my next step. I decided something right then and there.
“I’m going to travel abroad before starting a new job, and I am going to professionalize my filmmaking. Instead of losing my cool, this time I would embrace this ambiguity and become stronger.”
For travel, within a few weeks I jumped a flight to Iceland… in January (pro-tip: the weather that time of the year in Iceland can be INTENSE). The snow and frigid temps were a beast but I was lucky enough to see incredible sights and make new friends. Instead of feeling like a failure I felt excited and empowered. I also kept up my running, completing the Orcas 50K trail race in February and earning one of my quickest finishes on that course.
And that now brings me to my art: telling stories through video.
I first learned how to edit video way back in 2003 after taking a digital video course in college and cutting up mock music videos in Premier Pro while adding in video clips and music from MTV Cribs. Over the next decade I would continue to create short, silly running videos capturing outings in The Enchantments, Mt. Kenya and many other adventures. However, I never took the practice seriously. I used unlicensed music, I slapped together edits in iMovie, and never investing in quality cameras, audio equipment or more intentional storytelling. Despite playing around in the space for over a decade I hadn’t developed this artistic outlet. That is, until now.
In the months after my layoff, I bought my first 4k camera, a mirrorless Sony A6300 still/video camera. Together with a tripod and a few lavalier and shotgun mics, a Macbook Pro and Final Cut X, I was in business. As part of this creative growth I swore off unlicensed music— replacing my habit of using illegal tunes in my videos with creative commons tracks from Sound Cloud, and other free options from YouTube’s Audio Library. Later I learning about cost-effective licensing sites like MusicVine.
For motion graphics, I hired designers off of Craigslist, and more recently, found animators on Fiverr. Together with studied editing techniques, I learned how to make more professional content. I shared my new videos with friends and even got a short video about my dog Luna Tuna played in local film festivals. This slowly started to build my creative confidence.
“I’m a filmmaker. I’m filmmaker!”, I thought in the tiniest, internal voice.
Eventually friends started coming to me with movie ideas, for advice, or sometimes, with a bucket of video clips.
“Can you make this into anything?”
“Well, I can try,” I’d reply.
Still, unsure of my skills and knowledge, I tried to underpromise and over-perform while learning new techniques. Over the next four years that have followed I produced over 30 short running and adventure films and have had features screened at nationwide film tours, at local climbing and fitness gyms, running stores and virtual film festivals. This growth has not only been creatively rewarding, but has developed a channel where I can help inspire people to live a healthier life—one of my life goals/mission.
My Favorite Creative Project So Far:
So that’s it. These five moments collectively have shaped me in tremendous ways. Some visible (jaw, running) and some hidden, maybe even from myself. While none of these experiences were easy to live, I’m grateful my life arched in a way that allowed me to listen to the lessons they wanted to share with me. I’m grateful I’ve been brave enough to be influenced by these stories.