Welcome to the first edition of Letter Zero. It’s not an exaggeration to say that nearly everybody I care about is on the receiving end of this email. I am a bit nervous. I really don’t want to let you down, but if I do, you can unsubscribe at any time.
Rather than get too formal with this right out of the gate, I just want to write you a letter.
Dear <<First Name>>,
How was your week? It snowed here. That always makes it hard to get out for a run.
Running in a blizzard is about as miserable as it sounds. The snow is pelting you in the face, the ground is getting slick, and the wind cuts through your dampening gear.
But not always.
There is a magic moment hidden in the blizzard that I discovered on Friday. In an instant, the entire experience transformed from misery to ecstasy. Let me explain...
Most of your run in a snow storm involves battling the conditions. You are pushing through the wind, squinting through the snow, choosing your steps, and trying to maintain your core body heat. It’s a fight.
But if the wind speed is just right, if the trail turns at just the right angle, if the flakes are fat and light, if your pace is perfect, something incredible happens.
In an instant, you cease to be a part of the opposition and your body synchronizes with the storm. You are moving but the air seems to stand still, the snow perfectly matching your strides. Time slows, the frozen parachutes rise and fall, bob and dance around you. You feel the same pull of gravity as the snow, but you are lighter somehow, every step lifts you back in the air, you float there, suspended above a spinning planet.
Then you turn a corner, the synchronization collapses, and you are thrown back into the chaos and misery.
That brings me back to my original question. How was your week? I had trouble getting out of bed, I struggled to summon the energy to face the work waiting at the office.
Can you relate?
I think the reason we do it, day after day, is because we have experienced synchronization within the storm. We maintain a belief that if the conditions align we can do work we are proud of.
So we put on our snow gear and show up. We face the office politics, the slick ground where one misstep can send you tumbling into a ditch or tripping into oncoming traffic. Squinting through tears we might just see a path through the storm. We endure, believing that around the next curve is the creative breakthrough we crave.
We may not be able to avoid the blizzard, but within the chaos we might just find brief moments of synchrony. I call them user zero moments. Incidentally, User Zero is the name of the book I am hoping to release this summer, but I’ll save that topic for another day. My hope for you next week is that you find the calm within your blizzard.
I hope you are well. If you get a chance, let me know what you are up to, what blizzard you are battling and the moments of synchrony you’ve found. Stay creative. I will send another email next week.
P.S. As I get Letter Zero off the ground I could use your help. Could you forward this to a friend that you think would appreciate it? If my words resonate, they can add themselves to my list using this link: Join Letter Zero
As a gift, I will be giving all subscribers a free copy of my book. Which reminds me, I want to give you Art of the Living Dead, too. I am working out a couple kinks in the ebook format, but next week I will tell you how to access your download.