I'd've thought I'd have done the Marine Corps Marathon by now, but for one reason or another, I haven't. And as it has gotten harder and harder to get into in recent years, my interest has grown dimmer and dimmer.

A couple of years ago, when registration for the marathon opened in February, the response was so intense that the Internet servers at the Pentagon blew out within minutes.

This year, registration opened on February 15, just after press time, and was expected to fill the quota of 31,000 or so within hours, if not minutes, with a lottery in March to let in a few other lucky runners. Now, though, there's an alternative. It's too late for me this year, but has already got me thinking of 2003, and getting in really good marathon shape for the first time in several years.

The inaugural Washington, D.C., Marathon takes place on Sunday, March 24, and though organizers have announced a cap of 20,000 chances are there will still be openings left right up until the March 14 deadline.

The new marathon offers an attractive alternative. In addition to ease of entry, depending on the weather, there's a very real chance the cherry blossoms will be in bloom. Best of all, though the Marine Corps finishes at the Iwo Jima monument, much of its 26.2 miles is run through Virginia, while this new marathon will be entirely in Washington, going past all the monuments and through neighborhoods such as Embassy Row and Chinatown.

"This marathon takes runners on a historical trek into neighborhoods rich in culture, history and diversity," said Vicki Bendure of the host organization, H2O Entertainment, Inc., a special-events company in the capital. "It really is a wonderful opportunity to discover this city."

The race starts on Arlington Memorial Bridge, runs across the Potomac, River, then heads east on Constitution Avenue past the Lincoln Memorial, Washington Monument and the U.S. Capitol Building before looping around the city.

"There are two primary reasons for staging this marathon." Said Bendure. "First, we felt the East Coast needed a spring marathon that would be open to all runners, not just elites such as at the Boston Marathon. Second, due to the fact that the Marine Crops Marathon almost instantaneously sells out, Washington needed another outlet for runners."

Bendure said there was never any thought, either by organizers or by federal officials, of canceling the race in light of Sept. 11. "Support has continued to be significant from all levels. I think many people are looking for some way to return to some sort of normalcy," she said.

Once nice touch? Runners can be assigned a name of a victim of the Pentagon attack and run in his or her honor, and can choose a designated charity to help fund-raise, as well, For more on either effort, or for basic information, call (703) 528-8176 or go to http://www.washingtondcmarathon.com.

U.S. Airways is the host airline, and the Metro Center Marriott is the host hotel, though its runner-special rates of $165 a night might be gone. If you feel like entering on short notice, it'll cost you $85.

To know George Geck is not necessarily to love him. I do, but not everyone feels the same way. Everyone will admit, though, he's a true running original.

George is a teetotaler now, but back in his beer-drinking days, on Wednesday afternoons, he'd race from whatever handyman job he was working on at the time--putting in a driveway or a new roof or repairing a porch, whatever needed to be done and needed tools to do it--to Metro Beach Metropark on Lake St. Clair for the mid-week Metro-Macomb runners' race series.

George'd drink a beer or two on the way, change into his running gear, drink a beer at the starting line as the instructions were given out, then just the "GO!" command was about to sound, he'd set his can to the side of the road, lean forward and... At "GO!" he was gone. A notorious front-runner, he'd burn out to a big lead, hang on as long as he could, then fight tooth and nail as each of a handful of runners would eventually go by, one by one.

A strapping six footer, even half-sloshed Geck would run under six-minute pace for those two-, three- and four- mile events. He was, and is, a funny, loud-talking character, and the more beer he'd drink, the louder though not necessarily funnier, he got. He'd show up at all the big races, hang with the Downtown Runners, dance with all the women, wheel and deal and charm (or infuriate) his way through the night. ' "Hey, that's George," people would say. They loved him or hated him. Often both, at the same time.

Then one Wednesday night, several years ago, Geck showed up at Metro without his trademark can of beer. I didn't ask. He didn't volunteer. He still went out hard, still was loud and brash and faster than you'd ever think from the size of the guy.

Then injuries struck. One foot injury after another kept him off the roads and away from the races. If he did show up somewhere, it was to gingerly test his foot, usually with mixed results. About the time he'd start getting back into shape, he'd be hurt, again.

I slowly forgot what it was like to compete with George, to see him take off like a banshee and , likely as not, end up kicking my butt. Feisty? One time he and Andy Chocol stopped duking it out metaphorically in mid-racing and got into a fistfight. But that was the Gorge of old. This guy was fragile, and slow.

In 2000 and 2001, though, Geck has reasserted himself on the Detroit-area scene. Leaner than ever, free from injury, he's back kicking butt, yacking up a storm and freaking out those who don't know him.

He's 53 now, but you can often find him placing near the top of the 35-39 age group. He registers for this younger age group, figuring he'll have a better chance to meet women if they don't think he's closer to 60 than 45. Last summer, he grew his hair out into long curls and put a blond rise on it. Grow old gracefully! Not a chance.

New Year's Eve on Belle Isle, there he is warming up in old green, baggy sweats he probably brought back with him from Vietnam. (He's written a novel about his experiences there, but has yet to find a publisher.) Kevin Hanson is there with his girls team from Sterling Heights, all dressed in the Hansons' trademark yellow singlets.

Minutes before the start, they warm up en masse in front of the starting line, doing stride-outs, knee lifts, slow jogs and the like. Geck circles around behind the pack and bellows out so they can all hear: "I love to see you all out here like that, "cause I'm gonna kick your butts!" He cackles his trademark laugh, turns to me and stage whispers: "The sad thing is half of 'em can kick my butt these days."

He doesn't beat them all that night, but he beats most of them. Takes aim at 6:20 miles and nearly makes it. Slaughters me, too.

"Wait'll next year, George," I vow.

Hours later, the new year was here. Five days later, at the Festival of Lights in Ann Arbor, George beat me again. For the first mile, I could hear him coming. He was the guy screaming out: "Rock and roll!" Or, "Here comes George Geck!" Or, "You've just been passed by George Geck!"

He beat me, again, but the gap was just six seconds. I'm coming buddy. Gaining on you. Some time, some place in 2002 you're mine.!