The Running Man

When we were at Miami, there was this guy that everyone called the Running Man. No, it was not because he could do the running man like no other, it was because he literally ran all over Oxford. He would run for hours, and everyone would greet him and talk about him. Well, we found out at one point that he was really doing a research study on how people react when they see familiar faces repeatedly (or something similar to that). That kind of took the fun out of it for me. He wasn't a crazy guy, he was a guy on a mission. (Ok, he was a little crazy; he'd come up to First Run, the horrible dance bar in Oxford and would leer at girls, etc. But even then he was treated like a rock star, which if you think about it, takes us right back to crazy again.)

I am reminded of him almost daily on my drive home. There is a woman that I refer to as the Crazy Lady. I have no idea if she's actually crazy, but she looks it. Every day between 5-6pm, this woman walks the exact same route, wearing (usually) the exact same clothes. She's in her late 40s I'd guess with long black hair that is parted down the middle, Morticia Adams style. She wears these little blue shorts and a white t-shirt.

What gets me about this woman is that she walks soooooo slow. Then she swings her arms from side to side just like she doesn't have a care in the world. Some days I'm convinced she's singing to herself. She's a mystery to me.

I really hope she is truly a quirky crazy lady and I'm not being Running Manned again.