On the way down to the first floor she asks me if I’ll be running the half marathon this weekend.  I respond with a, “No.”  Quite frankly, I haven’t been able to do long runs more than 10 miles.

“But it’s only three more miles,” she says.  It’s like I’m listening to a fitter version of myself coaxing me on.

It’s probably safe to say that I won’t be doing the full marathon in February.  There is where I usually delete the blog only to return and start over at a later point, but this time I’ll leave it up.  I should get around to re-import blog entries from prior races that I’ve done; it’s on my to-do list.

The four letter word that begins with a “w” has been busy for the past few weeks.  Last week, I managed to get three runs in during the weekday and then botched the long run for the weekend.  Instead of dragging myself slowly for 13 miles, I decided to just jog 8 instead.

I have a feeling that this will be one of those marathons that I will barely finish in the allotted time which happens to be six hours.  Hey, it will give me something to aim for.

Something instinctively tells me to look over the bridge railing on Sunday evening, as I though I saw something in the water below.

I recall hearing something heavy diving into the water Thursday evening.  Perhaps it was a bird flying away, but I do not recall hearing its wings flap.  Maybe it was a large turtle.  Yeah, that’s it, a large turtle.  There is a logical, rational explanation for everything.

Peering over the aluminum railing reveals a brown log in the water with a tapered end.  Then, it dawns on me.  I’m looking down at an alligator.  The first thought that enters my mind is, “Is that real?”

It looks so calm and relaxed in the water below.

Oh yes, it is real.

I continue on my long jog which for some reason crumbles into eight miles of walking.

Perhaps registering for a marathon instead of thinking about signing up for one will work this time around.  The one I signed-up for is in Melbourne, FL.

The first long run entailed slowly jogging 10 miles in the rain.

To add a bit of variety, I have added swimming workouts to the regimen.  There’s a clubhouse with a lap pool about two and a half miles from home that I began using.  Fortunately swimming is like riding a bike; it takes a couple of laps to get the hang of things minus the flip-turns.  Most people that I know remark, “You know it’s the end of swimming season.”

“Yeah, but it’s not cold yet,” I say in denial.

As the hour approaches half past eleven at night, I make it home.  Another run done for the week.  At the far end of the street, the old guy who always walks his dog around the neighborhood stops at the corner.  Perhaps he’ll turn right and walk away, but no, he notices me and begins walking in my direction.

“How was your walk?”

I correct, “I jogged.”

“Oh, good exercise,” he remarks.  “So, what’s new?”

I mutter, “Nothin’ much.”

“What?”

“Nothing’s new,”  I reply.  “Same old [day], same old [day].”

Failing to connect on a conversational commonality results in stating the obvious.

“Looks like you put on some weight.”

Perhaps I didn’t him correctly so I ask, “What?”

He clarifies, “You put on a couple of pounds.”

“Yeah, I know,” I admit.  “I’m trying to work it off.”

Not going to run the race that I planned to do.  It’s a tad more difficult to get back into the swing of things as I had thought.  When I hear the weather forecast over the radio, they describe things as warm during the day, thunderstorms in the afternoon and humid at night which is the typical for a Florida summer.  It’s not very inviting.

Perhaps I should give myself another month or two to get back into it.

When I returned vacation I started getting back into the swing of things.  I haven’t signed up for the race that I’m thinking about doing, a local trail race that does loops around a park.  They have a half marathon, a full marathon and a 30 miler option.  Although it would be neat to try the 30 mile race, I’ll thank myself later when I signed up for a shorter distance when that “I just want to go home” feeling kicks in.

My legs were sore the first week, and it was too humid the second week.  Those are my two excuses.  By the third week, I get back into the routine of running regularly.

Once the guys reach the beginning of the trail, they give each other high-fives and cheer aloud.  Shortly I learn that they just spent the past four days hiking across the Grand Canyon.  A sign-post about a tenth of a mile into it states that it’s approximately 23.4 miles to reach the other side.

I think to myself, “That’s pretty darn impressive.”

On that note, I think that it’s time to begin training for another marathon and what better time than to begin now.

Looked down at the trip odometer this morning and noticed this number on the dashboard.  I would have felt better if I jogged that far instead of driven it.

As the sun sets later in the day, more runners congregate outside the store on Thursday evenings.  “Last week we had 98 people sign-in,” one of the store employees tells us over a band playing music.  They do another trivia contest where I learn that Saucony, a running shoe/apparel manufacturer, is named after a river in Pennsylvania.

Along with the rule of running on the road while in the mall, they impose another as the group expands, “You’ll also need to keep your shirts on while inside the mall,” he tells us.  Two shirts are tied to a fence railing a block or two from the mall exit as the group runs to the traffic light at the far end of the road.  The 5K “pub run” involves running from the store, through the outdoor mall and to the second traffic light and back.  People meet afterwards at a bar located in the mall, but recently allegiance shifted to a new pizza restaurant.  You run 10 runs with them and you get a free t-shirt; that’s the incentive to return.

The following weeks I learn more things: the first women’s Olympic marathon was held in 1984 and that this store at the mall has been opened for 10 months.  After the group surpasses 100 runners, the weekly turn-out diminishes so they introduce something new: runs around a track starting on Tuesday evenings.