OK. This is weird, right?

Some back story
I'm training for a marathon. I know. I know.

"Why are you doing that?!" you cry.

The truth is I meant to sign up for a half marathon. But this particular race is so popular, that your participation is determined via raffle.

Yes, raffle.

And because I'm running in a group (Yay for Jennie and her mom!), the all-knowing powers of the Nike race put me in the same race as them. Even though I requested to be in the half.

Thus, I'm training for this because if I don't, I'll hurt myself and potentially die. Not to mention be out a $100 if I decide to bail.

The real story
My training schedule told me to run 8 miles yesterday, so that's what I did: 4 miles out, 4 miles back. And I was really enjoying myself--I was pleased with my pace; the sun was setting, making my surroundings beautiful; and the people I passed on my way seemed genuinely happy with their evenings.

That is, until I saw this one guy, who was kind of a creeper. Allow me to explain.

I'm running along and I see him standing in his driveway. He's maybe 40. Maybe. Nice looking. Salt and pepper hair. Wearing jeans and a button-down striped shirt--like most men in San Diego who are about to go out. But he's just standing there. Not on the phone. Not with anybody. Just alone in his driveway.

As I approach, he looks right at me and says, "I love that."

Completely baffled I smile, laugh, and turn my face down.

And as I run past, he says, "Thank you."

What?