The Stories Behind the Stories: A Visit with Jery Huntley in Keene Valley
There’s something about meeting someone who lives their life as if every moment is a chapter in a book worth reading. That’s exactly what I felt when I visited Jery Huntley in Keene Valley. What struck me first wasn’t just the breathtaking view of the Adirondacks from her hilltop cabin—though that was certainly part of it—but the way her home seemed to breathe with stories. Every chair, every corner, every addition to the structure had a history, a purpose, a reason for being there. It’s the kind of place that makes you want to sit down, listen, and absorb.
Jery, at 76, is the kind of person who defies stereotypes. She’s not just the founder of OurStoryBridge, a nonprofit that captures the narratives of everyday Americans; she’s also a congressional campaign volunteer, a winter resident of Washington, D.C., and—get this—a HYROX competitor. Yes, you read that right. She’s training for her second HYROX competition, a grueling physical challenge that involves running and functional workouts repeated eight times. What makes this particularly fascinating is how it reflects her approach to life: relentless, curious, and always pushing boundaries.
The Cabin as a Metaphor
Jery’s home is more than a house; it’s a living archive. The rocking chair that once belonged to an Olympic bobsledder? It’s not just furniture; it’s a reminder of achievement and legacy. The custom-built Adirondack chair? A testament to local craftsmanship and community. Personally, I think this is what makes her work with OurStoryBridge so authentic. She doesn’t just collect stories; she lives them. Her cabin is a physical manifestation of the idea that every object, every person, has a narrative worth preserving.
What many people don’t realize is how deeply personal this mission is for her. OurStoryBridge isn’t just another nonprofit; it’s an extension of her belief that stories connect us. Her latest initiative, OurStoryBridge Listens, aims to capture 100 voices in an oral history project. In a world where we’re often reduced to headlines and soundbites, this feels like a radical act of humanity. If you take a step back and think about it, it’s a quiet rebellion against the noise of modern life.
The HYROX Factor
Now, let’s talk about Jery’s training for HYROX. This isn’t just a hobby; it’s a statement. At 76, she’s challenging societal expectations of what aging looks like. What this really suggests is that physical strength and mental resilience aren’t bound by age. It’s a reminder that we often underestimate what’s possible when we’re not confined by our own or others’ limitations.
One thing that immediately stands out is how this ties into her work. Capturing stories requires energy, focus, and a certain fearlessness—qualities that are equally essential for HYROX. In my opinion, her physical pursuits aren’t separate from her passion for storytelling; they’re two sides of the same coin. Both demand discipline, both require showing up, and both are about pushing past what’s comfortable.
The Broader Implications
Jery’s life raises a deeper question: What happens when we stop seeing age, career, or interests as silos? What if, instead, we embrace the idea that everything we do is interconnected? Her cabin, her nonprofit, her training—they’re all pieces of a larger mosaic. From my perspective, this is a model for how to live a life that’s not just productive but profoundly meaningful.
A detail that I find especially interesting is how she blends the personal and the communal. Her cabin is her sanctuary, but it’s also a gathering place for others. When she invited me to stay and work from her kitchen, it wasn’t just hospitality; it was an invitation to be part of her world. This blend of intimacy and openness is rare, and it’s something I think we could all learn from.
Final Thoughts
As I left Keene Valley, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I’d witnessed something extraordinary. Jery Huntley isn’t just a nonprofit founder or a HYROX competitor; she’s a living example of how to weave stories, strength, and community into a single, cohesive narrative. Personally, I think the world needs more people like her—people who remind us that life isn’t about checking boxes but about creating a tapestry that’s rich, complex, and uniquely ours.
If there’s one takeaway from my visit, it’s this: Stories matter. Whether they’re etched into the walls of a cabin or the muscles of a 76-year-old woman, they’re what connect us, challenge us, and inspire us. And in a world that often feels fragmented, that’s a lesson worth holding onto.
