you feel sorry for your runner friend who just bought a $500,000 house in a neighborhood where the roads have no shoulders.
you have replacement spikes in your glove compartment.
you see a skinny person on the street and immediately look at their shoes.
you meet an old teammate and can't remember their name but remember their mile time.
you see a pretty fast person running on the track and surreptitiously time them (but they always stop before you get a 400 split).
if your car breaks down you never even consider hitching or calling for a ride.
the key pocket in your running shorts always has a hardened lump of toilet paper in it after you do the wash.