It was a cold morning. Okay, not Minnesota cold. About 40 degrees. Cold enough my fingers couldn't quite grasp the ring on the tripod mount to remove it from my camera, forcing me to hand hold my camera. Cold enough that my boys were bundled up, complete with heads covered.
I walked down the bike trail, looking for the spot that would convey the feeling I wanted when my subjects arrived.
A little hill. The bike trail curving into the distance. Through my viewfinder I could see that the road would start in the bottom right corner and move around the frame, ending towards the right again. Nice.
One distraction in the frame, but for anyone who is out on the trail often, it is also a place giver. The sign announcing who cares for the trail. The 20 mile marker seemed a fitting piece of context as well. We all have a story for that marker. Maybe it is where our workout started or our bike got a flat or the spot of our longest run.
The runners I waited for would appear on the left side of the frame. I wasn't planning on capturing my boys. The right side worked. It filled in the patch of bare dirt. Filled it in with a story bigger than any words I have.
In that moment my photo of the day arrived. Unexpected.