~ By Amanda Enloe ~
Typically when I run Wash Park, I randomly select a fellow runner and pace them around the loop. Tonight I was running with ‘orange shorts’ and after a few miles he proceeded down a street I hadn’t been along before. I figured he was making an extra long loop and that wherever he was going would eventually circle back to the park so I continued to stay behind him. He’d speed up, I’d pick up the pace. He’d slow his gait, I’d follow suit. After another mile or so he started repeatedly glancing back, eventually looking slightly worried/moderately panicked.
It wasn’t until that very awkward moment that I realized I was:
- No longer “pacing” a fellow runner at the park and, instead, it had escalated to where I was now being perceived as”following” him home.
Embarrassed, I turned around to navigate back to the park and sent a text to my friend about my little adventure. This is what I get in return
“Dang, is this what it’s come to for you to meet a man. What was the plan? Did you bring your rope so you could lasso him, douse him with chloroform, throw him in your trunk, drive to the Justice of the Peace, nod his head yes for him and live happily ever after? “