I've been watching Texas Ranch House

on PBS, so forgive me if I sound like Sam Elliot.

I ran my eighth run today. Tuesday, the first sunny day after all the rain, I bumped my runs up to 15 minutes. Today, on a known course that brought me just shy of two miles. If I'd run the race last week at that pace, I'd have cut a minute off my time.

I admitted in a comment that I've signed up for the Twin Cities Marathon on October 1st. My goal for that is to finish it in less than four hours. I think I can do it if I can build my endurance between now and then to where I'm maintaining 8 minute miles for most of the race.

The most I've ever run before is a 3 hour run of 17.5 miles, the summer after Rosie was born. She's nine now. Then I bought the s#*&%y running shoes and didn't know what was wrong, so I quit running.

Laurie bought me a pile of running shoes to try out last Sunday. Guess who won the contest. You're right! Nikes. They're light and comfortable. And they kick butt on my Earth Shoes walking shoes for breathing.

For all that, the question remains: what the f have I gotten myself into?!