Wish lists and creepy men

After hitting my mileage goal last week I decided it was time for a well deserved week off. I did enjoy the down time and today, for my first run of the new year, my legs were happy and rested and ready to run. Too bad The Vengeance wasn't.

Maybe a tenth of a mile from the house I looked down to check my pace (I thought I was way fast) only to find that The Vengeance still thought I was standing in front of the house. Yep, "30 seconds in and you haven't moved one inch," she scoffed at me. S.O.A.B. So I stopped. Found a new satellite signal. Get 'er all started up again. Ran.

At the far end of the park I ran past a bright blue Hummer. All the doors were open and the person responsible for it was standing on the other side, so all I could see were his boots. Guys are probably thinking, "What's this dude doing with all his car doors open?" Ladies are probably thinking, "did you run away as far and as fast as possible?" And yes, yes I did! Crap like that completely creeps me out! What, did he have bad car stench, like that episode of Seinfeld? Was he taking pictures to list it for sale, and if so, why in the middle of the park? Was he just driving around town and on a whim decided to sell his car? The only explanation I could come to was that I should be scared.

So here's my truth: I'm a big scaredy cat. There is nothing in the world I'm more afraid of than burglars. Creepy man and his Hummer are a near cousin of the burglar, as far as I'm concerned. Something men don't understand about women (and I generally hate blanket statements about the genders) is that we think about personal safety a LOT. For some women, it's a few times a week. For some, it's every day.

Which brings me to my point (I DO have a point, wait for it). Since I started endurance running in April of 2007, I have virtually never run with ID on me. Only when it's cold enough to wear a jacket, and even then it's only sometimes, and it's a driver's license zipped in a coat pocket. You know, super convenient for EMT's to find (yes, that's sarcasm). And somehow, despite my concern for personal safety, this never bothered me. My mother, yes. She nagged counseled me regularly on the need for ID.

I can only imagine her delight when she found the Runner ID on my Christmas wish list. Last week it occurred to me that even though I was running on treadmills, I should probably still go ahead and put it on my shoe. I mean, if I fell off the treadmill (again) and knocked myself unconscious, how would anyone know who I was? Did I put it on my shoe? No. So before my big return to outdoor running today, did I put it on my shoe? Still no. Until I saw creepy open Hummer man in the park. And now I have Runner ID.

Thanks, Mom.