I have always been interested in photography. I didn't start actually doing it until 2001. But to me, why I stay interested in photography is more important than how I got into it. Here's a little story to illustrate.

I was on assignment today to get "that one perfect shot" of sandpipers on the beach. I needed to get them lined up with a reflection on the wet sand and some nice afternoon light.
It was another foggy, grey day. I parked at the beach and checked my gear. Clean lens, enough exposures left on the roll, extra film, tripod set to the right kneeling height. I left the car and walked out into the sand. The beach was mostly empty. Four miles of sand stretching off to the south where it meets high cliffs, a ceiling of fog hanging over it. Cold breezes raised the hair on my arms.
I spotted a few dozen sandpipers doing their thing nearby. I slowly walked over and carefully knelt down. The wet sand soaked through my jeans instantly. I set the camera to servo AF, dialed in half a stop of overexposure, and cranked the aperture down to f/8. I picked out one of the little guys and followed him around. Little head like a sewing machine, up and down lightning quick, picking tiny bits of food out of the sand. At one point he stopped, cocked his head. He was looking right at me. I took the shot. He darted away, mottled brown back and white belly blending in with all the others. They were darting about, bumping into each other, playing, jumping, all the while their little feet moving so fast! And the constant pecks, a blur of speed. I lost the one I picked out and just watched them all, how they interacted, how they seemed so tireless. They looked very soft, so close that I almost felt the small feathers, the soft little bellies.
I stopped, looked up. There was no one around. I realized I'd been kneeling there for a good half hour. I had forgotten all about the world. You could have landed a 747 next to me and I wouldn't have noticed. I'd only shot 12 or 15 frames. My batteries were low from the constant AF operation and my knees were sore. I was getting cold in only a t-shirt and wet jeans, and the sun wasn't showing signs of breaking through. So I switched off the camera and walked back to the car. A certain sense of peace had settled over me. I felt serene. I kept looking back over my shoulder to see the sandpipers. They were still there, still darting around, pecking lightning fast at little bits of food.
This is why I do photography.