Each step was like planting my feet into water-soaked bath towels. Thirteen miles of nonstop sloshing in last Sunday’s BearFest half marathon could be viewed by some as not so fun.
But for me, it was a chance to think about the past year. Most runners will tell you that the pastime is therapy, affording us plenty of time to ponder our path in life.
Just under a year ago, I arrived in Wrangell, with a U-Haul full of my past life. My decision has been reaffirmed every day since. Here’s why:
I came from a place where a population of 45,000 people is considered a small town, so 2,000 is a refreshing change of pace. I don’t have to plan on leaving the house 30 minutes before something starts to fight traffic, get across town and get there on time. In Wrangell, it takes five minutes to get just about anywhere around town. My commute is a three-minute walk.
That small number means everybody knows just about everybody. Now, that could be a bad thing in some places, but in Wrangell it seems to only strengthen the community. Does everybody get along? Of course not, but we look past our differences to do what’s best for this town. I believe everyone has a unique story to share, and most of the people I’ve met here — and I’ve met a lot — are happy to share their story with me.
Speaking of those differences, people here have strong opinions and beliefs. However, even if they know you think differently, that won’t get in the way of them lending a helping hand and being a friend, or just by saying hi every time you see them. I look forward to things like Anny and Dan Newport walking by the office in the morning and waving.
People here work to find solutions. Having sat in on a fair share of borough assembly and school board meetings, I’ve listened to the exchange of ideas and as members ask questions, raise concerns and eventually work together.
I get that I’m talking up Wrangell, which I think it deserves to be, but it’s not all sunshine and roses. Sometimes it’s snow and aggressive Indian celery. Before moving here, I was told by a few different sources that winters are mild. We proceeded to have — or so I was told — the harshest winter Wrangell has seen in a decade. That’s not such a bad thing, except I grew up and lived in a place that only got snow every 20 years, and then only a dusting that immediately melted.
That didn’t stop me from buying a home here. I even moved in that stupid snow.
I got here too late last year and I missed out on the Fourth of July and BearFest festivities. Even though I worked my tail off to photograph and report on the Fourth, it was amazing, and I can’t wait for next year. I’d never seen a town come out to organize, work and play the way this one does for its events.
BearFest was a scaled down version of the Fourth, but there were still a lot of people gathering for the events. This time, though, I had to join in. I signed up to run the half-marathon and made some new friends from that decision.
There were fewer runners this year, from what I was told. There were only about 10 of us running the 13.1 miles, and two ran the full 26.2 miles, one of which was 11-year-old Carter Howell. At the runners’ pasta feed the night before, he said he wanted to be on the books as the youngest one to run the total distance. And he did. At the opposite end of the spectrum was 77-year-old George Benson, who ran the half.
Though things haven’t been perfect — no journey is without potholes and speedbumps — it has been the best decision I ever made to move here.
I think I’ll stay.
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