All in a morning's run

Friday morning's run started out in the same manner as mostly every other run this winter — cold, gray, windy, nothing short of unspectacular.
Heading down Main Avenue, trudging through the last mile and deep into our own little world, we were chatting about nothing memorable, when a young man jumped out of his car.
A small piece of paper clenched in his hand, he glanced around, confused at his surroundings.
"Do you know where City Hall is?" he asked.
"Yeah," we answered, pointing down the block. "Just go to the stop sign, turn right, go to the end of the block, turn left, and you'll see it on the right hand side of the road, just a few blocks down."
The directions didn't set in.
"I need to get to City Hall, and I'm late," he said. "Can I drive there? Can I walk?"
We repeated the instructions, and then started discussing the options amongst ourselves, failing to take his hurry to heart.
"If he's driving, maybe it'd be easier to go that way," suggested Ann, pointing the opposite way.
"Doesn't he take a right?" Shelli asked, thinking of the county courthouse.
Colleen shrugged her shoulders, staying out of the fray.
"No, no," I said, "just go down the block, turn right, then left, then it's on the right."
More confused looks.
OK, let's simplify this. Walk or drive?
Walk.
"Can you run?" we asked.
"Yes!" he said.
And with that, the four of us, along with our newfound running partner, took off down Main Avenue, heading for City Hall.
Suddenly, the drudgery of a cold, winter morning run turned into a mission. We had a purpose.
This was most excitement to occur on a run since the December morning when I slipped by the post office and almost got run over.
Not ones to run in silence, we took full advantage of this unknown young man.
Name? Andrew. What are you doing? Taking a test to become a police officer. Where from? Jamaica.
Jamaica?!
"Why'd you come here?" we asked.
"For a girl," he said.
The four of us sighed in unison. A girl.
"She still here?"
"Yes," he said. "That's why I'm trying to find a job."
We all heaved another sigh.
Four middle-aged women. Husbands, kids, houses, dogs, cats. Schedules. Meals. Laundry. Sometimes, it seems the only thrill is escaping together for the daily run.
And, here was Andrew, trading in Jamaica — Jamaica! — for South Dakota because of a girl.
We arrived at City Hall and said a quick farewell.
Bounding down the street, we laughed about Andrew's story, our chance meeting and the sequence of events that dropped him into our life for six blocks.
The pure happenstance of the moment took the ordinariness out of the day and gave a newfound appreciation for our small town and our time together, even if it was only six degrees.
Only in Brookings, South Dakota. Only on a run.