I walk home from the train with a group of men and women, usually the same group every day (when she was littler my older daughter called this the "Daddy Parade," although it is about 30% women.) Often I walk with a couple who live down the block and have children similar in age to mine. They are nice people, he a software guy and she a fixed income investment manager. A few weeks ago they told me about the Running Man. This is another regular passenger on our train who jumps off as soon as we enter the station, runs up a flight of stairs, across a bridge, down another flight of stairs, across a parking lot, dives into his car (strategically parked next to the exit) and peels out onto the street. He does this every day, and they find it very strange and very funny.
So today I was walking across the bridge and I looked down into the parking lot and saw him. When I say run, think sprint. A fast sprint. I was just gobsmacked seeing this grown man sprint to his car. I sauntered along and eventually ran into the couple from down the block at the crosswalk. "I saw him!," I told them. They pointed out that he was a few cars away from us, sitting in his minivan, still getting himself settled into his car. We speculated on the way to our houses about why he runs - an nanny who goes home at 6, a kid who goes to bed early. I told my older daughter when I got home, and she speculated that he has another job as a "emergency doctor at an emergency hospital," or that he always needs to go to the bathroom after his train ride home.
My neighbors warned me, "you will now be obsessed with the Running Man." You know what? I AM NOW OBSESSED WITH THE RUNNING MAN!