| A letter, to all who have enjoyed an Arctic MINI Run, or hope to one day.
Every year, I wonder if the upcoming Arctic MINI Run will be my last. Life gets more complicated, attendance, more difficult. The spontaneity of the original run and its terrifying accident has of necessity yielded to advance logistical planning and the self-assurance that comes with experience. Each year demands a new high, a more distant road, yet some day, those highs will fall short, and there will be no new roads to explore. Those giddy collective feelings of joy when we first waltzed onto James Bay in 2005 have proven to be unique, their reproduction forever elusive.
Then, just when you think you have the Arctic MINI Run pegged, the unexpected occurs.
I do not refer to ending up in Radisson this year rather than Moosonee. True, this year’s trip was an extra-curricular tour de force adventure. We went further north than ever, experiencing northern lights, walks on James Bay, not one but two underground tours; we met wonder-filled Cree, buzzed caribou and even charted new roads. We had the highlights of several past Runs, all rolled into one. Heck, we had such a good time, my house almost burned down! Surely, those who chose not to come this year missed out on a dynamite, once-in-a-lifetime experience. Yet no matter how stupendously incredible the trip is, we have come to expect precisely that of the Arctic MINI Run.
What I didn’t expect was to rediscover inspiration, find renewed strength and a faith in freedom.
2008 was a personal annus horribilis. A thrice-flooded, partially demolished home, a son with life-threatening burns to much of his body, multiple hospital operations, months of personal illness, financial turmoil. The year ended with a month-long wandering about the emptiest part of America. We would find breathtaking scenery, but have no time to think, or find the answers or inspiration sought, only a yearning for home, for which we were thankful.
This past weekend featured unspeakably beautiful scenery too, and little opportunity for contemplation, much less sleep. Yet through an act of charity, I was in the air when the world became new. In the empty land of the north, freedom still finds a home, a place from which our strength can flow. Once again, anything feels possible. With collective purpose, we can achieve anything.
Without asking, I received more from ArcticMINI than I could have ever given.
Thank you.
Until next year,
Ross Trusler
True North, Strong and Free. | 
