Reaching one summit is delightful, but ascending two, three, four, or even five in a single day that is truly sublime. Running bestows upon me this boundless freedom, the liberty to choose my own path, to decide the timing and trajectory of my journeys. It is, at its core, a profoundly simple art: one foot in front of the other, a rhythmic dance with nature, an exploration of the unknown. Should the path vanish beneath my feet, I simply press onward, eager to discover what lies beyond the horizon.
Joan Roch, a revered Canadian ultra-runner, once eloquently stated, « With a car, we access 40% of total liberty; with a bike, 60%; but when we run, we achieve 100% freedom ». These words resonate deeply with me, as running transcends the mere act of competing or the accumulation of gear and entrance fees. Running is about slipping on a pair of shoes no matter where in the world you find yourself and embarking on an odyssey across diverse terrains. Itâs about challenging the very limits of body and spirit, pushing boundaries until they blur and fade away.
As I run, my breath transforms, becoming a powerful force that drives me forward. My muscles warm, alive with the fire of movement, while my blood surges rhythmically from heart to feet. To run is to acknowledge the gift of movement, to cherish our health a precious present from life itself, one we must never overlook.
âïž @french_arctic
đ· @maxemanuelson
Unstad, October 24â
This fall, weâve paid the price for the warm and sunny summer er had in the north.
There has been almost non stop storm and rain since the end of August, so there hasnât been much time in the mountains. Thankfully, we got the ocean, and there the storms brings the sweet gift of waves.
Itâs been a frustrating process photographing in rain, strong winds and gray and dull weather, but itâs been incredibly inspiring to have so many talented people in front of the camera and to be inspired by them and the teams they work with.
Even in a time of constant storms where the days only get shorter and darker, I am really grateful to live in a place that is so vast and beautiful, gives so much, and attracts so many inspiring people.
The days are getting longer, and the snow is retreating from one mountain top after another.
Winterâs playground is slowly giving way to a new season, the land of white peaks turning into a land of trails.
Itâs getting warmer now, and the sun finally heats the touch of skin again.
In 2018, I was part of an art project called Dangerous Beauty.
The idea was to give a face to the people in countries that are often portrayed as dangerous through Western media.
Iran became the place to start. The project was exhibited in Chicago, USA in 2019.
Before I left, I remember feeling both excited and uncertain. There was a lot of the unknown.
What would meet us as we (me, a Mexican, and two Americans) traveled through Iran with cameras?
I arrived in Tehran a day before the others and had some time alone to explore. Iâll admit, I was nervous. But honestly, I was more hungry than anything else.
I left the hotel to find food, and as I walked through the streets of Tehran, something shifted. To my surprise, I felt calm. Safe. Everyone I met smiled, welcomed me, and genuinely wanted to connect.
Even though we came to Iran to show the kindness of the people, we quickly realized we carried the same skepticism we were trying to challenge. Again and again, we were proven wrong.
One moment Iâll never forget: we were stopped at a military checkpoint on our way to Tabriz. We stood out, white skin, big cameras. We were sure this was it. That weâd be detained. We started hiding memory cards and preparing for the worst.
Then four uniformed men approached the car.âš
Part 2 in comments:
After spending time as far north in mainland Europe as you can travel, we drove 18 hours through the night, and the mostly pitch-black day, back home to rainy Lofoten, chasing waves in the middle of the darkest days of the year.
