grey skies turn blue

After moving from South Jordan, to Lynchburg, to Sugarhouse, to London, I'm realizing that running in a place allows me to connect with the neighborhood in ways that, say, taking the bus/tube/car would not.  Maybe this is because I run for running's sake--I'm not trying to get somewhere, to make it someplace by a certain time; I just lace up my shoes and run.  I don't have a mileage goal or anything.  There's a rhythm and a peace that comes with running.  I feel a sense of companionship with people I pass (or maybe I should say everyone who passes me...:).  Especially on sunny days like today, when Victoria Park is filled with footballers and bicyclists, families and beloved family dogs.  Nothing beats sunny Sundays in Victoria Park.  I almost didn't go, since I looked out the window and it looked so grey outside--but by the time I made it to the park the sun was out in full force.  As I crunched my way through fall leaves, then darted across Grove Road into the second half of the park, I felt at home.