Creepy Camry

Distance: 9 miles 8 miles
Pace: 12 min 11 min/mile
Number of calls to police: 1

Yesterday I set out to run 9 miles. I've been building: eight miles last week, seven the week before that. I'm experimenting with fuel and pace, because I tend to lie around exhausted all day after a long run, and I want to continue to have a life on the weekends. So I'm eating before the run, eating during the run, and slowing it down for the long runs. This worked beautifully last weekend for the 8-mile run, and I was anticipating a no-problem 9.

I started at Bethany and Central on Murphy's Bridle Path at 7:05 a.m. It was supposed to be 7, but Pixie, my running companion, said her alarm didn't go off (a likely story) after I texted her at 7:04 to see where she was. I'm sure I've described the Bridle Path a zillion times, but for any non-local readers, it is a dirt path that follows Central north to the canal, about 2.5 miles. It is very popular with walkers, joggers, and bicyclists.

After I got about 1.5 miles in, I saw a car waiting at a side street to turn onto Central. It was a silver car, and the driver's side window was down about four inches. I thought he seemed eager to make the turn, so I ran behind him instead of in front so he wouldn't have to wait for me. I ran on, vaguely pleased with my civic-mindedness, and forgot about him.

A few blocks later, there was the same car--silver, with the window down four inches, waiting on a side street. Major deja vu. I thought, that's weird. This time I took a better look. Four-door Camry, dude inside. I thought, maybe he's lost. I ran past, this time in front of the car.

A few blocks later...the same car was waiting at a side street. I now thought something was up, but couldn't quite believe it. Silver Camry, window down more. Got the driver's face. I made a WTF expression and ran past him.

A few blocks later--you got it. SAME DAMN CAR, waiting at a side street.

I was completely freaked out at this point and ran past it and approached two women out walking. I said, "I'm sorry, you don't know me, but I think I'm being followed." They listened to me tell the story, and as we were talking, the car pulled up ahead of us on a side street, waiting. I was like, that's the car. Then another woman approached us and said, "Are you talking about that silver car? I saw that guy following you. He waits til you pass then turns around."

Well. This was all a bit much. I called the police on him, and they promised to send someone out. While I was on the phone with the police, he turned off the side street and drove past us on Central. We all stared at him.

I don't know if the police caught up with him or not, because last I saw him, he was driving. I left my new friends and continued my run up to Dunlap, but I didn't do the sketchy half-mile up into Sunnyslope or the canal portion of the run because those are isolated stretches and I thought I had better stay around other people. It was nuts. Plus, because I was flooded with adrenaline, I was completely unable to maintain my plan of running slow and ended up all over the place with my pace, which then caught up with me later when I decided eight miles was plenty, thank you, and screw mile 9.

Some male friends of mine have asked why I didn't get my phone out and take a picture of the guy or the license plate or be more aggressive. Well, for one, if I took his picture and he got out of the car and came after me, that would not be a good situation. What am I gonna do, fight the guy? I am unlikely to win a physical fight with a man. For another, my instinct at that point was saying very loudly, "Get away from him." I trust that voice.

Anyway, I guess this isn't my lightest or funniest post ever, and next week it will be back to describing chafing in embarrassing places. But I wanted to share it, and also to just note, be careful out there. Bring a buddy. Bring a dog. Bring your BFF bear spray. Most people are good, like the women who circled around me while I called the cops. But for that one creeper out there...just be aware and be careful.