I don't remember the first time I met Fred but I do remember my initial impressions of him. He's craaazy. He's crazy, and angry, and Swedish, and his idea of a good time skiing (narrow, steep couloirs over large cliffs) was the polar opposite of mine (Nice, mellow 28-30 degree glades in the winter and big open faces in the spring). I'm not even sure how Chris and Fred's paths crossed skiing, but they did, and in the end, they put together several amazing traverses over the years, as well as getting shut down and sitting in a 2-person singlewall tent together in the Indian Peaks for several days before bailing out.
Then one day, Fred quit his high-paying job in the biotech industry to pursue free-lance photography. This was in the depths of the economic downturn and I remember thinking to myself, 'He's craazy.' But I could sympathize as I was in the process of extracting myself from grad school after 5 years of studying various things, that while interesting, really didn't ignite any sort of passion in me.
So it made me happy, sitting at the top of 401 with Chris and Fred on Tuesday morning, dressed up in pretty wool cycling clothing, that when a group of hikers came by and asked us why we weren't at work, Fred could legitimately say that we were. Or at least that he was.
It's not a half bad gig...aside from having to get up stupid early.
Everyone has dreams of their perfect job, of how to make ends meet doing what they love. I always tell Chris that it doesn't matter what we're doing here to make rent as long as on the side, we're working on our superhero jobs on the side.
Do what you love. Do it well enough, and someone will pay you for it. Here's to hoping.