You say potato...

A potato has been lying on the side of the road on one of my frequent running routes for several weeks now. The thing that fascinates me most about this potato is that it still resembles a potato. Seriously, it hasn’t shriveled up or turned a funny color or anything—its just a random potato, hanging out next to a ditch on a country road, exposed to the elements. I tend to have varying reactions toward the potato. For instance, at times I’ll think to myself, “Huh, that’s fascinating, I wonder if it will be here again next time.” Or perhaps: “Screw you, potato, you are disgusting and I am miserable and I can’t believe I’m only to the freaking potato when I feel like I should already be back at my house. Damn.”

I’ve come to realize that while 90 percent of my runs are fantastic there is still that elusive 10 percent that remains miserable and kind of makes me want to die. Thus I take my frustration out on the potato. Throughout this half marathon training there has been the occasional run that I just don’t feel like doing. Maybe I’m tired, or stressed, or its f-ing cold outside. During my 10 mile run last Saturday I spent the entire time waiting for the runner’s high that never arrived and instead clouds of dust blew directly into my face because of a nasty windstorm that only died down once I was done running. I’m hoping it says something about my level of motivation that even when I don’t really feel like running, I know I am capable of it and totally aware that hitting the pavement will benefit me in the long run. That, of course, does not mean that it doesn’t suck.

And then I have days like yesterday when the cold spell died down and it was comfortable enough outside that I could run while wearing capri yoga pants (made of magic… its like running without wearing pants, which is totally preferable) and a t-shirt. The sun was shining, birds were chirping, the sky was bright blue and full of the really pretty puffy clouds that look like cotton balls, I was outside sweating and running five miles like a rockstar. My town is surrounded by mountains and due to the recent onslaught of cold weather they were covered in snow, and let’s face it, mountains look way prettier than normal when covered in snow. Even the uphill portions of my route didn’t damper my mood, and no evil dogs chased me, and I was listening to Kellie Pickler’s new album and thinking, “That’s right, Kellie, once a cheater always a cheater.” Country breakup anthems are seriously the best to run to, I think. During the whole run I just felt good. So good that I even smiled and waved at my evil neighbor because I forgot that I was mad at him (and had to yell at him yesterday even though I’m not a yeller) because it was his evil dog that came close to taking off one of my limbs and it scared the holy hell out of me. He waved back, but didn’t smile, cause he’s creepy and never smiles. Yesterday I found the random potato amusing. It reminded me of why I like running—to feel strong and awesome and healthy and to see interesting things like strange potatoes that don’t ever decompose.

Now I just need to figure out how to turn that 10 percent around so that all my running experiences are so cheerful. Also, I probably won’t be eating potatoes for a really long time.