Every trusty vessel needs a name. I dubbed my new-to-me 1987 Toyota Escaper RV, “Taterbug.”
Lately, I’ve been doing a lot of things on a whim. Right around the time I invested in my mini home/ office on wheels, I also signed up for a 30-mile run called, “The Taterbug.”
The moniker, “Taterbug,” stuck to my Toyota like bugs to the windshield. Not only does my new ride resemble a potato bug in looks, it also moves down the road about as fast as an insect come autumn.
So far (knock on wood), forking over the entry fee for the race is the only Taterbug-related purchase that’s given me second thoughts.
One evening after an unusually invigorating but very short run, I decided that it was time I set myself another goal. I spent a few hours on the computer, surfing the hundreds of ultra running websites. That’s when I stumbled across the Taterbug Ultra in southern Indiana.
To be honest, I fell in love with the cute name. A Taterbug run sounds so sweet and innocent, doesn’t it?
One minute I was sipping a cold one mulling over the interesting trail run options all across the world, and the next I’m signed up and paid-in-full for the first annual running of the Taterbug. Online entries are way too easy.
A few weeks later, my friend and I made the road trip down to southern Indiana to check out the terrain. Contrary to popular belief, Indiana does have some very hilly areas. After months of waddling down bizarrely level rails-to-trails in Indianapolis, I didn’t want a bunch of nasty, vertical surprises come race day.
The Taterbug Ultra starts and ends in Vevay (pronounced “vee-vee”), Indiana on the banks of the Ohio River. The first successful winery in the United States was established here around 1801; the area continues to be destination for wine connoisseurs.
After a quick map study, I realized that we could take a look at the entire Taterbug route driving the back roads through dense forests and Amish farm country.
I really don’t know what would get me up the roller-coaster climbs of Switzerland County the fastest - my 4-cylinder Toyota Taterbug or my own two chicken legs.
The highest point of the race, Potato Bug Hill, climbs to 909 feet above sea level. My Toyota snailed its way up Potato Bug with the power of a Flinstone vehicle. The early Swiss settlers of Vevay named their new home “Switzerland County” for a reason - the topography reminded them of their native land.
It’s not that I’m against good hard climbs - I actually do love them. But I’ve mostly been running the blacktop flatlands of the city since I’ve been in Indy with family. I’ve got to find some hills to climb... and fast.
I have to admit - lately I haven’t had the everyday desire to lace up my running sneakers. Running through the mountains of Montana - dirt under my feet, big sky overhead, no humans in sight - I feel free. Running mostly on pavement with exhaust and people and noise everywhere, I just think, “Why?”
Usually, I enjoy running for running’s sake so I try to keep at it. I encounter a fox tiptoeing down a wooded loop trail near my parent’s suburban home, and I’m reminded that the peaceful wild can be found among chaotic civilization.
I get away from town for the weekend, and I’m overwhelmed by beauty - the majestic stands of hardwoods, the brilliant fall foliage, the charming farm country of my native Indiana.
Some places beauty comes easy. Other places you have to look for it. I bought my little Taterbug RV and signed up for the Taterbug Ultra to keep me moving and searching for those beautiful places.
And I’ve got all my bases covered. If the mountains of the Taterbug Ultra are too much for my flatlander legs, my friends can always peel me up off the pavement, toss me to bed in the back of my Taterbug RV, and head back to Vevay to try some of that world-famous wine.
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