I’ve run that stretch of farmlands 3 times in the last week.  I saw one on each of the first two runs, but I told myself they were just funny-shaped rocks at the side of the road.  But on Sunday’s 16-miler, I had a witness alongside me, and as we turned towards the sound of a big truck roaring up behind us, I thought it seemed peculiar that a dump truck would be hauling a load of construction dirt back there.  As the thing rolled past, my running partner and I looked at each other in an “a-ha” moment and felt relieved that we hadn’t been hallucinating along the way.  It was a ‘tater truck, spilling over with beautiful, fresh potatoes.  

Now, I’m from Indiana, and I can identify lots of plants and trees thanks to my Boy Scout Master father.  But I have to say, I don’t believe I ever knew what a potato plant looked like until now.  

I love being surrounded by these gorgeous farms, and I’m so lucky that my favorite hobby takes me through miles and miles and miles of these miracle-growing parts of the earth – up close and personal.

I’m fascinated by the perfect lines created by the rows of plants and the sheer volume of a single farm boggles my mind.  And when I think about the fact that each of those plants was nothing but a mere seed a few weeks ago, well, it’s simply overwhelming.

And I am reminded constantly as my legs carry me through hundreds and thousands of acres, that a field full of filthy dirt – where it seems all has laid down to die – can yield a magnificent Life.

This is my song.   My unwritten tale is slowly unfolding into a phenomenal love story.  I was sleeping for years, but I have finally grown into a brand new Life. 

“That which appears dead is capable of resplendent reincarnation.”