I don't know why I'm always surprised at the difference between running at 7, 8 or 9 am on a Sunday makes, but it does.
Today I got out a hair late (the 9 am side) and started through the neighborhood. For the most part it was quiet, but there were people out walking their dogs, working on their yards and such as I ran past. When I got to the running path, there were all sorts of people on bikes, with scooters or walking with water bottles slug around their necks. And then there were the runners.
The long, lean gazelle like people with easy strides as they went for a long run. There were the folks like me, those little engines chugging along saying to themselves "I think I can, I think I can..." and everything in between.
Which is why I pretty much relished a part of the path that was quiet when I got there. In fact, it was quiet enough that a baby bunny hopped out and sat there on the edge of the path watching me chug along before scampering back into the long grass thinking "you can't see me, I'm invisible," even though he stood out if you knew where to look.
It wasn't a great run by any stretch - there were times when it felt chore-like and dutiful and the by-ways felt too crowded. But it was made into a good run because of a little bunny's boldness in the quiet moment suspended in time before the bikes and the walkers and the scooter and everyone else made it to that point to remind me that this is still a city.