As with almost every profession, photojournalism can be monotonous. More often than not, the news repeats itself. And sometimes, I find that to be the most challenging part of it all. When we’re given the chance to cover natural disasters or presidential candidates coming to town, our adrenaline automatically kicks in — it’s almost as if we turn on our “Make Excellent Photos” switch. But it’s the days where I cover sledding for the fourth time in two weeks that I find myself most frustrated, and sometimes, downright depressed, with the work I’m producing. It’s hard to be creative during those times of total déjà vu.
This past Saturday, I was sent to the Whitnall Park Toboggan Slide, Franklin, to cover its opening day. I can’t begin to tell you how much time I spend in Whitnall Park. I see the photos before they even happen. It’s hard to not make a shot I’ve fallen back on a hundred times before. As I stood at the top of the hill, waiting for the track to open, I watched a couple of girls sled down the hill. I pictured the photo I’d make in my mind — the girls with their hands in the air, mouths open, snow flying everywhere … heck, maybe I’d even slow down the shutter speed to make a little motion blur. But after about 30 seconds of envisioning those shots, I got incredibly bored with myself. So bored, that I didn’t even lift my camera. I just watched.
But then, comes a moment.
Whitnall Park looked like a snow globe, and someone else noticed it before me: Eleven-year-old Nikki DeCleene got to the bottom of the hill, laid down on her sled and stared up at the sky. She laid on her back for at least 2 minutes, watching the snowflakes fall on her face. Suddenly, I thought to myself, “Snap out of it! This is a great moment!” I fired off a few frames and recorded a moment all-too-often missed.

Nikon D3, 200 mm, 640 ISO, f3.5, 1/6400, Manual
Nikki DeCleene, 11, takes a few minutes to watch the snow fall Saturday, Jan. 17, 2009, at Whitnall Park, Franklin. Nikki was sledding with her friend, Rachel Formella, 12.