A year of never living the same day twice
365 days ago, I packed the last of my things into 3 suitcases and a backpack, watched snowflakes float above the Boston skyline one last time, and boarded a San Francisco-bound flight. Moving across the country to an unfamiliar city is a strange thing. You say goodbye to (almost) everyone you’ve ever known, pack up everything you’ve ever owned, hop on a plane, and then, 7 hours later, you’re “home.”
Whereas home was once in New York then in Boston, I now called this completely and wonderfully foreign place home. While I didn’t realize at the time, my sense of home was beginning to evolve and soon, home would become a fluid concept.
In the first nine months following my move, my two main priorities were getting up to speed in my new role and making sure I was as prepared as possible for the most travel I had ever done in my life. Prior to the move, much of my travel was local — going between Boston and New York — with the occasional flight every few months. 2019 was stacked with weddings and events in the Northeast. Once simple trips around New England became more logistically involved when flying from the west coast. There’s never a “good” time to move cross country, but for me, the stars aligned with an opportunity of a lifetime to join a team and company I was ecstatic about in the city that I had dreamed about living in. In those first several months, I learned the true meaning of a weekend (and vacation day) warrior.
In making the decision to move, my partner, Ryan, and I knew that we’d give up many aspects of life that we took for granted in Boston, namely the luxury of having best friends who we could see on a whim and family that was only a rental car away. Amidst many spreadsheets, we vowed that the move wouldn’t change the things in our control and within our means — we’d be there for the big life events, accepting that we would miss the day-to-day memories. This commitment we made to show up for the people who mattered most to us, regardless of where we called home, was the basis for what became a transformative year for my philosophy on friendships.
Three of my early trips brought me back to Boston. Each time I returned, a flood of nostalgia hit me on the drive from Logan into the city. There was a familiar feeling about it all — as though I was coming home to the friends who I missed immensely, the Charles River where I trained for my first marathon, and all the apartments I’d lived in across the city. Every time I boarded a plane heading back to the Northeast, I was excited for all that awaited me at the other end of the flight, yet every time I descended back down to SFO, I grew equally excited looking down at the mountains and bay, knowing that I was home. Life and home become fluid. I felt equal parts at home in so many places.
Towards the end of 2019, the novelty of red-eye flights and living out of a suitcase every other weekend wore off just in time for 3 full weeks in San Francisco. I finally caught my breath and started to establish a real routine.
It was during this period of down time that I noticed my daily moments mirrored the life that I had led in Boston. I commuted to work, worked, went home, ate dinner, went to bed. Repeat. During our now free weekends, Ryan and I would spend most of our days in the apartment, occasionally going for a run to a new neighborhood or grabbing dinner at a trendy restaurant. We had spent the summer running all around the city in preparation for a marathon, but once the race was over, my excitement for running 15–25 miles a week went with it. When it finally came down to building my world in a new city full time, I wasn’t quite sure what truly living in San Francisco looked like. There was nothing particularly Bay Area about my life besides my commute down the 101. It was time to fully embrace west coast vibes and I was ready.
All of my travel had anchored me towards living in the future (planning, packing, anticipating) versus being present and appreciating the passage of time on a daily basis. One of the reasons why I was initially excited to move to the Bay Area was for all the possibilities living in temperate weather near hundreds of trails unlocked, but up until that point, I had only gone on two hikes.
As a lover of mapping new goals at the start of every year, I spent most of December thinking about what my “highest denominator life” might look like. How could I build my 2020 to embed the unique aspects of the Bay Area in daily moments? I wanted to live a life that I could not live anywhere but here. I landed on working towards two goals: 1) getting outdoors to hike at least twice a month, and 2) practicing going out of my way to meet new people and explore new parts of the city. As a New York native, I’ve been conditioned to walk with a purpose so admittedly, spontaneous exploration will forever be a work in progress.
I’m learning to remind myself to find joy in seemingly mundane things like a commute, to let go of the sense of urgency I’ve always held dear, and to learn how to slow down in a world that constantly demands speed. While hustle and bustle is evident in every city, the pace of the Bay Area is noticeably different to me where people move about their days much more casually. With my game plan in hand, I’ve begun to spend time getting to know Northern California more intimately, and since the start of the year, have prioritized going on three hikes a month.
While I still get excited about every upcoming trip, my former curiosity about living life on the road has mostly been sated. I appreciate the magic of modern air travel as much as I enjoy staying local to explore the wonders that lie just a few hours outside the city. It occurs to me that we often fall into the comfort of our day-to-day routine and forget that there are many places left to be discovered just outside the bounds of our sandboxes.
What I’ve come to appreciate over these last 365 days is the impermanence of everything. I think back to the excitement of moving to San Francisco and the feelings that came with knowing nothing at all, but then one day, the once new and unknown became my normal course of life. The thing is: we never know when our reality might change again. If you find that you’re living your lowest denominator life, going about your days in the exact same way you would in any other city, I challenge you to go out and figure out what living your highest denominator life looks like.
This month — fittingly, one year in — marks the first full month that I’ve spent in the Bay Area since my move and I couldn’t be more grateful to be celebrating it on an urban hike in San Francisco.
