Another New Year Newsletter- Last One, I Swear!

The following is from Issue 6:3 of my newsletter, originally released to subscribers January 26, 2025.

Happy Sunday, everyone. Me again, in my third and final installment of this series, talking about directions for the new year. (If you missed either of the previous issues, you can find them HERE and HERE.) I do promise this will be the last one for a few weeks, and I appreciate your patience in reading through all of these. I realize a lot of what I’ve shared hasn’t exactly been enthralling- but it’s been cathartic for me to kind of discuss these thoughts and further define my future course. Apologies to anyone unwittingly drug along for the ride.

These next couple points kind of pertain equally to the main topics of my last newsletter, photography and writing. The first relates to how I’m putting my work out there, and the second to my personal ethic in the work I’m putting out.

It’s no secret that social media has become a centralized and dominant means of communication in today’s world, and in recent years I’ve developed a real tolerate/hate relationship with that. In purest form, social networks can be a really wonderful thing. They’re readily accessible (TikTok pending) and provide an easy way for people to connect, exchange information, learn new things and find inspiration. But like nearly everything else that people flock to and come to rely on, these channels have been subjugated by manipulation and greed. I despise far more about social media in its current form than I like, and the user experience is something that I’m beyond fed up with. My frustration comes both as a media consumer- constantly being bombarded with posts from accounts that I have no interest in, and seeing very little from the people I’ve actually chosen to follow- and as someone who is trying to share their own creative/ business related content. The whole popularity contest aspect of it can be very triggering to someone who has never been on the winning side of such, and it can be really disheartening to spend hours (often days even) writing a blog post or prepping a photo that lands to the sound of virtual crickets. It’s hard not to feel like people just don’t care. Even when you know the algorithms are designed for this- to reward only those who pay for views and invest their lives farming for engagement, and in turn stifle the reach of those who don’t- you still question yourself.

The two posts that I’m going to link below are actually prime examples of this. I really poured a lot of my heart into these; obviously worked hard for the experiences, and put a lot of time and thought into writing about them. Until now, I’ve only shared them across my social media channels, primarily Instagram and Facebook. I realize that I have a fairly modest following on both, but of those hundreds, according to my page metrics, the Meta algorithms only allowed these posts to be seen by a few dozen people. And based on my website analytics, each has received less than 15 hits. That means they’ve each been read by fewer than fifteen people. I don’t know if that’s not quite fifteen individuals, or if my mom has just read them almost fifteen times- probably somewhere in between- but it doesn’t inspire a lot of confidence when your ‘time spent writing to readership’ ratio is so off-kilter.

It's easy, sometimes, to think “what’s the point.?” But… that is EXACTLY the attitude I want to get away from. Because it’s all this bullshit about chasing metrics and engagement and whatever else we’re convinced is indicative of our worth that makes us lose sight of why we explore creative pursuits in the first place. It’s about expression. It’s about finding our voice. It’s about having sincere impact on others. And honestly, when I really stop and think about it, I know that if something I’ve posted can seem like a small flicker of light to just one person amidst all the superficiality, marketing and click-bait they’re flooded with online; even if something I’ve created is seen by only one person but it’s enough to reach that one person’s heart, then every ounce of time and energy and my soul that I’ve put into it is worth it to me.

What a profound privilege it is to be able to touch another human in a meaningful way.

So that’s going to be my mindset in how I approach social media, for now. To be fair, I’ve thought about this before. It’s easier said than done. But I’m going to keep trying. You always have to keep trying. I’m going to try to post a little more frequently without concern for likes or number of views (and keep reminding myself that this has no bearing on the value or intent of my work) and I’m also going to try to do a better job of engaging with others. That’s an entirely different self-worth rabbit hole that I won’t go down right now, but I will say that the “why would they care?” thought process of depression can be pretty irrational and debilitating. (Plus Facebook is probably showing me posts from “Philadelphia Buy, Sell or Trade” and the Kirksville, Missouri Public Works Department instead anyway. Seriously, I had a post at the top of my feed last night from someone lamenting that it had been 11 years this week since the Bonanza buffet in Marquette went out of business. It was super random and from someone I don't know or follow, but perked my curiosity because I used to drive through Marquette, Iowa all the time, and for the life of me I couldn’t place where a Bonanza restaurant would have been. I clicked on the comments and finally figured out it was from Marquette, Michigan… I have virtually no ties to Michigan, nor to Bonanza buffets for that matter. But Facebook feels that this is the information I need to be shown rather than my sister’s business posts, a former classmates family photos, artist friends’ creative work or 95% of the other people and organizations that I’ve actually chosen to follow. That all-knowing algorithm sure does have me pegged!)

The big caveat that I will emphasize with this, however, is that it is my approach for now. I’m very curious to see what comes of Facebook and Instagram since the orange-lipped Zuckerberg has decided facts aren’t as important as a potential dismissal of Meta’s upcoming anti-trust lawsuit. We’ve already seen how principles of free speech have been convoluted to perpetuate outright lies and propaganda by Elon Musk & Co. (Twitter is an absolute cesspool now.) If the Meta platforms follow suit, I’m done with them.

Also from the “Old Man Yells at Cloud” department, with the advent of AI (computer generated artificial intelligence) there have been significant and rapid changes to the way a lot of creative work is produced. There was already a grey area when it came to authenticity in digital photography as, in the past decade especially, powerful editing tools like Photoshop have allowed people to blend aspects from different photos to create composite scenes that didn’t actually exist in real life. Many photographers also rely heavily on pre-set adjustments, which are tools built into their editing software to process images with the click of the button. This too can easily lead to embellishments and misrepresentations of a scene (while others of us will spend hours processing a single photograph, intent on a finished image true to our actual experience.)

Now things have been taken a step further as editing software boasts generative AI with the ability to transform a digital photo into an entirely recreated scene. Features like “sky replacement” will turn a plain view into that of an otherworldly sunset with a single click. By typing a few words into a prompt bar, a misty stream can appear, meandering through a previously dry meadow. Some will disclose this work as digital art rather than photography, some will not. Some will swear it’s real. More than ever before, the authenticity of a photo now relies on the integrity of the person who created it.

Imagery isn’t the only place that photographers are employing AI. It’s being used to generate photo captions, website content, social media posts, and even newsletters. And while I don’t have a lot of insight yet as to what goes on behind the scenes in creative writing and book publishing, I can only imagine it’s a similar dynamic. People are always looking for shortcuts.

I take issue with this for many reasons. Not only can it be very deceptive to anyone who follows and enjoys the work we create, but it also puts those who choose to devote more time and thought and pieces of ourselves into that work at a disadvantage. Fine art and other creative fields are extremely competitive anyway- and AI is shifting the standard for success from genuine depth and talent to computer skills and marketability.

I believe that art should be about our personal expression as souls trying to navigate the human experience. Sometimes I feel like a throwback; committed to authenticity in a world that’s quickly spinning away from valuing such things- but that’s just who I am, and how I have to be. If there’s a comforting subtext to this ethic, however, it’s in believing that my work is going to appeal most to those who still care about these things too.

I can’t speak for others, their chosen process or what they present their work to be. But I can guarantee that anything you see from me will be genuine. If it’s a photo, it will convey a scene as I truly experienced it, without the addition of artificial elements or enhancements. If it’s written word- from a caption to a blog post to these newsletters and beyond- every syllable is born of my own thought. That will always be my promise to you.

And finally, while the following may not initially seem like it relates, I do want to mention it as I think moving forward it might become a larger source of writing content. It's also factored heavily in my decision to cut further back on shows- and did last year as well, when I explained that I wanted to allow time for other pursuits. I didn’t really go into detail then, but I was referring to running. Especially trail running, and ultramarathons. Like art shows, training for these can be incredibly time consuming, but I have some goals that are really personally significant to me, so it’s another consideration that factored heavily in the decision to clear my slate through most of this coming summer.

I’ve always loved running, and it was a big part of my life from the time I was in junior high through my twenties. I’d gotten away from it for about twenty years or so, but always felt like it was something I needed back in my life. For a long time simply for my own enjoyment and the physical benefits, then more recently because I saw it as a means of improving my mental health. But shoddy knees and recurrent injuries were what lead me to step away from it in the first place, and every time I’d try to start again an old issue would flare up. I didn’t have a lot of confidence that my body could handle it anymore.

I finally overcame these concerns last year. It was actually with the passing of my best friend John in 2023 that I really had to confront that I was running out of “somedays,” and with that began the long, committed process of getting myself back in form. That November I was only able to run a mile or so on a treadmill at a time, but I stuck with it, and this past May I completed my first marathon.

You can read more about this journey in one of those blog posts I mentioned earlier (CLICK HERE) titled “Back to the Hills” which goes on to tell of also completing my first ultramarathon, a 50 miler that I ran last August in South Dakota’s Black Hills.

One memory that stands out from this first full year back in stride came shortly after that marathon in May though. I hadn’t told my family that I was running it, or even that I was in Montana for the weekend (the race was in Whitefish.) I just texted my parents and siblings a photo of the finishers medal when I was done. In the exchange that ensued, my dad asked how I thought I did.

“Okay, I guess. I finished, but I think I got last in my age group.”

“Well son, you’re not getting any younger…” he said, offering encouragement.

“Yeah,” I replied, “but neither are they!”

Self-awareness and deprecating humor aside, that remains kind of a tongue in cheek parallel to something I’ve tried to focus on through all of this. It’s the concept of running with maturity- a mentality I’ve really worked to embrace and grow with.

Now when I say this, I don’t mean to elicit thoughts of some kind of geriatric jazzercise routine. For one, anyone who chooses to stay active, by any means, into their twilight years is pretty badass in my book. And I really don’t subscribe to letting age be a prohibitive factor in what we are able to achieve, either. One of the reasons that I’d like to start writing and sharing more about running is to encourage others to be active themselves.

When I talk about running with maturity, it’s more about the mindset that I want to approach it with, now that I’m well north of forty. It’s really about gratitude. Appreciating the opportunity to still get out and move, and honoring those who no longer can. It’s about continually taking the chance to push and improve myself. It’s prioritizing the need for fresh air and exercise while learning things about myself and my surroundings, and providing a healthy example for my son. These are the things I’m focusing on much more than PR times or other accolades.

I delve a little deeper into this and related topics in the other piece I wanted to share, called “Rules for Trail Running.” (Found HERE.) It’s based on a weekly trail race series I participated in last summer in Utah’s Bear River Mountain range, and the personal rules inspired by lessons taken from each event. Don’t worry if trail running isn’t your thing. The reflections here are more philosophical than technical, and I think much of this can be applied in the larger scope of life.

There is one more example of running with maturity that came into play for me later in the year. It furthered some of the undertone in the motivations above, and the commitment to dropping ego. I think with running or any activity where we truly push our limits, there’s a fine line between expanding our physical and mental boundaries in a healthy way, and driving ourselves too hard to meet personally imposed definitions of success. It’s a truth that repeatedly led to injury and setbacks in my younger days, and a hard reality I’d face again last August.

While I did come a long way from where I started, there was actually one more race that I was shooting for. One more that I was signed up for and determined to do. It’s a race in Dubuque, Iowa called the Mines of Spain 100. I first learned of it many years ago, and it’s been a dream of mine ever since. There are two distance options- one hundred kilometers, or one hundred miles. At the stroke of midnight on January 1, 2024, I registered for the hundred-mile event.

That was supposed to be the big enchilada for me last year. While the other races that I completed also had personal significance and, Whitefish especially, represented bucket list goals, I’d developed a training plan around those with my first hundred miler in mind. I wanted to use them to build the strength, experience and confidence needed to attempt this ultimate distance. But in the process I also developed a few injuries.

The second half of the Whitefish Marathon was miserable for me. I’d started having hip issues in the weeks prior, and during the race my pelvis locked up. I limp-jogged through the final 13 miles, then managed to self-rehab and mostly work through it over the summer. But this and some other recurrent injuries really popped up again after about mile 35 in the ultra, and when that race was through I knew I had a decision to make. I could either keep pushing my body for this arbitrary goal I’d set to go from running zero to a hundred miles in less than a year, or I could take some time off and try to get healthy.

My Mines of Spain registration, like many long-distance races, offered a one year deferment in case of injury. Could I have still kept training and gotten through that race? Yeah, maybe. You have 36 hours to finish, so provided I could still run I think I could have suffered my way through it. But the only thing this would have accomplished would have been in allowing me to say that I’d done it. It wouldn’t have been the positive experience that I’d worked so hard for, or everything I’ve dreamt such an undertaking could be. So I swallowed my pride, requested a deferment, and at midnight Central a few weeks ago, resubmitted my name for 2025.

In that I suppose this is a bit of an announcement to go along with everything else I wanted to share, and more than anything, I’m saying it publicly for increased accountability. But my goal, my hope, my dream, along with some other building block races, is to attempt to run my first hundred-mile race in Dubuque this October.

Honestly, I have a long way to go. I tried resting and running off and on for a few months last fall, then life got busy and admittedly I let myself go. Not only did I fall out of my workout routine, I got rundown after working sixty plus hour weeks for two and a half months straight, I got sick and exhausted, I was eating like garbage, and I’ve gained over ten pounds. I’m really disappointed in myself for all of this, and just finally got back to the gym for the first time last night. It really feels like I’m starting over again, back to where I was in November of 2023.

But for all I’ve lost in fitness, I do still have the experience gained this past year. I know what it’s going to take, and how best to approach it. I’m gonna give it my best shot, and I hope you’ll all humor me if I share a few stories along the way.

Okay folks, at long last, that’s all I’ve got. Like I said in the last issue, I do plan to try and get back to sending these newsletters with a little more frequency, so hopefully in the future I won’t be trying to recap several months’ worth of rambling thought bouncing around my head. I hope you’re all doing well, and as always, thanks for sticking with me through the ups and downs of my career, and all this extra stuff too. I hope 2025 will provide some good stories and photos for me to share, and hope it’s full of wonderful experiences and blessings for you too.

Until the next time, take care.

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