I really think Mike has hit on something in his comments above. To a certain point, what he said is true of everyone, we all get burned out to a degree. But the serious consideration of quitting has never entered my mind. I've thought about it, and those thoughts were quickly snuffed out by the thoughts that followed, which consisted solely of "then what am I supposed to be doing instead?" I always hear that when this subject comes up: "I'm missing out on other things in life." What things? Vacations? Travel? Culture? Aren't all of those things just OTHER things (like chasing) to induldge oneself in? Maybe it's not about wasting your life chasing, maybe it's about change.....I dunno.
When I first started, I had this constant glow of excitement that I couldn't control. If I was awake, I was excited and always thinking about the next chase. Because all I knew was "I want to see a tornado." But I think that excitement wasn't stifled by time, but rather controlled by experience. As you learn and experience more stuff out in the field, you start to understand it. This understanding brings more emotion into the equation beyond pure, raw excitement/revel/wonder. I still get as excited today as I did in 1996 when I'm ON THE STORM, but from the moment I wake up until I first see the storm, what used to be unbridaled, freaky excitement has now been replaced with calculative, calm, controlled optimism. I know not to expect a tornado every chase; the difference now is, I actually believe it.
My passion for chasing grows stronger with each passing storm, tornado, year. I've said for years that chasing is my drive, my life, my very reason for existence. I haven't just been blowing smoke up people arses the past eight years with this talk to sound special - it's true. Experience has taught me to expect less, but enjoy more. I now accept that my entire year may only consist of 15 chases instead of 30. But I also now know that I can take those 15 chases (with the experience I have now) and turn them into as much (if not more) success than I could with 30 chases five years ago. I've learned that it's about quality, not quantity. I've learned to be patient, even after the storms fire. I've learned that focus doesn't have to mean you lose the moment; I can concentrate on getting the best video possible and still enjoy the tornado for what it is, right there in front of me.
I have often thought about what life would be like if I didn't chase. I would have no identity, no connection, no purpose. It's true that chasing is what I must have to have all those things, and I believe that to be a wonderful thing. I don't fear looking back when I'm 50 and thinking "I saw a lot of tornadoes, but other than that, I didn't do much." I fear quitting at 35, then looking back at 50 and thinking "I didn't go with my heart, I went with my head. And I regret it all."