By Andrew Patterson
November is a natural time to look back and ask what we’re most grateful for. This year, my reflections began on September 27, the one-year anniversary of Hurricane Helene. That day, I laced up my shoes and attempted something I’d never done before: David Goggins’ 4x4x48 challenge. Only, instead of running, I walked. Four miles every four hours for 48 hours. Each lap became less about endurance and more about gratitude—for my body, for my community and for the gift of perspective one year later.
Helene changed Asheville forever, but it also birthed this column. I knew the anniversary would be significant, but to my surprise, when the date arrived, there was no dread, no heaviness. Instead, there was gratitude—sustained by a year of listening, writing and bearing witness to stories.
Relay team for 4x4x48 (from left) Vaaga, Andrew, Ellie and Caitie
When I asked if anyone wanted to join me in the walking challenge, I expected silence. Instead, three colleagues from Whole Foods—Ellie, Caitie and Vaaga—stepped forward. Together, we built our own relay version of the challenge, raising nearly $1,300 for the nonprofit Bounty & Soul. Their willingness reminded me that community is always closer than we think; sometimes it just takes asking the question.
Walking my Saturday night laps with the city lights glowing where they had been dark the year before, I reflected on simple things I am grateful for: legs strong enough to carry me; eyes that take in the beauty around me; my one working ear that allows me to hear my wife’s voice and my dog’s bark. Gratitude for the most ordinary things became the thread of the weekend, just as it has been the thread of this column.
For 12 months, I’ve relived the same day through each artist’s eyes, experience and pain. And yet, in every story, I also witnessed resilience, patience and perseverance. Not one person I interviewed wallowed in self-pity or claimed victimhood. Instead, I saw a fire burning—sparked by hardship, fanned by persistence and fueled by hope. These stories reminded me that while we can’t control what happens to us, we can choose how we respond.
A year ago, my newly published book appeared in this magazine. I was still grappling with the tension between the devastation Helene caused and the gratitude I felt for holding a physical manifestation of six-and-a-half years of work. The same feeling flows through me now. I can hold both the pain of listening to others’ loss and the gratitude of being entrusted with their stories. People I might never have met otherwise have become teachers of resilience and companions in hope.
It feels strange to write these words, but they are true: Thank you, Helene. Wilderness Therapy taught me that loss and death will never feel easy. But in their wake, we discover threads that hold us together.
Last year, my best birthday present was the water coming back on—six weeks after the storm. This year, it’s the clarity that gratitude doesn’t belong to one month. It belongs to 365 days. So as you sit at your table this month, I invite you to reflect not only on what you’re grateful for today, but on ways to inject gratitude into every day. May patience and perseverance help you see them, even in dark times.
Thank you for reading. Thank you for remembering. And most of all—thank you for walking this journey with us.
Andrew’s book, My Journey Beyond the Summit, is available on Amazon. To nominate somebody for this column, reach out on ap@andrew365.com.
