Since the pandemic hit, I’ve travelled by plane exactly twice. In September, I flew to California for a swim and then I broke down right before Christmas and flew to Chicago to see my mom. She needed a hug. I can count on one hand the times I’ve been more than 50 miles from home via car. In a year. For someone who lives to travel, swim and explore, I’ve spent a year feeling like I’m in prison, isolated not only from the people I love, but also from everything I love about life. I know I’m not alone.