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About 25 years ago, a loose organization of middle-aged male athletes used to run in Balboa Park here in San Diego, at noon.

One day while a group of 5 or 6 of us were jogging across the Laurel Street Bridge, we saw a fellow run up behind a young woman maybe 25-30 yards ahead, give her a big old grab. She screamed, the guy took off running. One of our group was a Navy Cross recipient Marine officer who picked up the pace a bit, and when he got abeam the perpetrator, without breaking stride, he hauled off and whacked the fellow on the side of his head so hard it knocked him over the railing. Luckily for the perp, we had almost reached the end of the bridge so the fall into the weeds was not that far.