I've lived in rural Idaho for almost 17 years now. I should have known it was going to rub off on me eventually.
Somehow-- I don't know how-- I've found myself running to more and more country music.
Why do bad things happen to good people??
It started off with that innocent remix of "Country Roads", but things seem to have grown progressively worse. Mysteriously (I'm sure sometime in the middle of the night because that's when all mysterious things happen), my mp3 was downloaded with the following:
Charlie Daniels Band, "The Devil Went Down to Georgia" ...
Nitty Gritty Dirt Band, "Fishin' in the Dark" ...
and most recently, Shania Twain's, "Man! I Feel Like a Woman" .
I'm fairly concerned here, folks. Before I know it, I could be running in a ten-gallon cowboy hat, silver-tipped boots and skin-tight Wranglers with a belt buckle the size of my head, muttering phrases like "y'aint never seen nuthin'", "dem dere down yonder" or "come'n git yer grits!". And heaven forbid I tell any little dawgies to git along.
Good news is it seems to be working. Following a month-long decrease in training while recovering from ITBS, I ran a strong nine miles today, fueled on by Shania, Charlie and the Nitty Gritties hootin' and hollerin' in my ears.
So, if you're in downtown Salt Lake City on April 21st, you'll recognize me. I'll be the one doing the boot scootin' boogie across the finish line.