I picked up my first DSLR camera when I was a
Junior in college. It was love at
first sight.
Throughout the remainder of my time in
college, it was rare you would see me without Randolph, my beautiful Nikon d40x. It didn’t matter if it was a nightly
game of Catchphrase or a 2-week long trip to the Philippines; if I was there,
so was Randolph. I probably have
more pictures from my Senior year of college than I do from the entire
Race. I’m not kidding-I was
obsessed.
When I got accepted to the World Race, I
experienced a sort of inner turmoil.
To bring Randolph or to not bring Randolph…that is the question. I knew how important this passion was
becoming, but I also knew it wasn’t the reason I was going on the Race. I had never really taken any classes
and, honestly, it was just a hobby.
Nothing more.
Throughout the Race, I often had to grieve
the fact that I left this dear friend behind (though actually, Randolph died at
Training Camp so I was really leaving behind my new unnamed buddy). There were many moments and many
pictures I wished I could have captured but felt like I couldn’t because I
chose to leave my camera at home.
With each opportunity that passed and each photo I missed, a part of the
passion within me died. I managed
to leave the Race unsatisfied with the pictures I took and the memories I captured. Lucky for me I know the Race was about
far more than that so it’s really not the end of the world.
What I failed to realize (though often
preached) was that it isn’t the camera that makes the photographer.
Since returning home from the Race, I’ve
upgraded my camera. I made an
investment because I wanted photography to be something more that just a
weekend hobby. I’ve begun to
realize there’s a passion deep in my heart that I’ve been letting slowly die,
and I’m simply not okay with that.
I have a passion to tell stories and this is just the beginning…
