Good morning, readers! Several years ago, I took up running. I have since retired, but I enjoyed my time with it and can definitely see taking it up again. It brought me out into nature constantly, got me in great shape, and satisfied my competitive hunger. I mainly enjoyed competing against my own personal best times (aka PBs) but also enjoyed running long distance races. I was never a top contender, nor did I aim to be. I loved having a big, ambitious goal to aim for and pushing it to the next level each time: from 5K to 5mi to 10K to half marathon (13.1mi) to 25K. My next big goal would be completing a marathon, then a 50K. Beyond that, I wouldn't want to even think about the insane training schedule involved in preparing for competing in an event of such magnitude. One of the reasons I quit was the amount of time it required me to be away from my family. I enjoyed the solitude as an ambivert skewing toward introvert most days, but training for races can be an inherently selfish thing. Because running really is all about you.

While practicing for a 25K trail race at Brazos Bend State Park, I found myself several miles still from where I'd parked when sunset arrived. We live in the vicinity of the Texas Gulf Coast, which supports a broad spectrum of wildlife. Lots of great birdwatching to be done around here because the weather is amenable to many species both local and migrating. Also, it turns out, an ideal climate for alligators. Growing up in Dallas, gators were just something you looked at when visiting the zoo or aquarium. Out here, you're likely to find one in any given body of water bigger than a bathtub. They are so prominent, in fact, that most lakes and parks with ponds and even neighborhoods featuring a prominent pool of water all make sure to post a sign at the entrance warning unsuspecting visitors that danger may lurk beneath the waves. Brazos Bend State Park really drives the point home with their sign at the park's entrance: a massive alligator sprawls across most of the horizontal space beneath the letters spelling out the park's name.

So I was very much aware that I'd be running in the presence of alligators, and I was unbothered because I knew they would leave me alone if I did the same to them. I was heading back to my car when the sun fell below the treeline and I was forced to use my headlamp to avoid tripping. I switched it on and as it swept across the water beside the trail, I noticed a bunch of green glowing lights. They reminded me of fireflies scattered at various distances all around as far as I could see. They also reminded me a bit of how cat's eyes reflected light back at you when they caught your headlights in the dark. I paused then. Eyes in the dark. I looked back over at the glowing green lights and confirmed they were not fireflies. While maintaining as steady a pace I could, I pulled out my phone and Googled "alligator eyes at night" or something along that vein. One of the top results matched up with what I was witnessing firsthand.

Let me tell you: if you ever want to set a new PB, that's one way to do it. The fear I felt in that moment was remarkable. It's hilarious in retrospect, but I realized I might be in actual danger. Gators are very active at night. And despite their low profile, they can easily outrun a human. I managed to escape with all my limbs, but I learned a valuable lesson about getting caught unprepared in nature at sundown that day. Well, I'm running short on space. Hope you all have a great day, and thank you for reading.

—Jared Caraway