The start of another short story I will never complete. The Taller of the Two Men

I turned my attention back to the two men fighting in the street outside my bedroom window.
They both looked to be in their mid-thirties.
They were old enough that they should have know better.
They were young enough that they thought they still should.
I didn't recognize either of them.
The taller of the two men was thin and pale with sandy brown hair.
He was wearing a powder blue t-shirt and a pair of what we used to call gym shorts.
He was also wearing the gaudiest pair of yellow running shoes that I had ever seen.
He looked like he could of have been any of the myriad number of joggers that used the street outside my bedroom window as part of their approximately five mile jogging route that took them around the lake and back into town every weekend morning, afternoon, and early evening.
He was definitely a tourist.