I could never live in the city. I commute to Vancouver about twice a month by train. Packed into a crowded train, listening to the sounds of steel wheels on rail being drowned out by the endless overheard conversations of complete strangers. So many conversations, that after awhile it just sounds like white noise, indistinguishable constant.
I think that's another reason why I run before dawn, to escape the white noise. I love to run the trails and I live about a mile and a half from the nearest forest. The trail system however is from end to end only about a mile at best. So for most of the morning runs I take it to the streets. Before the cars and traffic, before the dog walkers and just after the hardcore partiers go to bed I'm out on my run with dog in tow. I use to think it was for the sake of the dog but really it's for me. Running is my solitude, a time to erase the white noise from the memory banks. Like many runners if I don't get in my daily run I'm cranky and irritable.
My dog is a two year Golden Retriever, Koda. He's a great running companion. He's a swimmer but a poor retriever. I'm not talking bad retriever as in chasing a ball down and not returning it. I'm talking about full on lackadaisical despondency for the ball. He could care less about balls, sticks, and stuffed toys . . . whatever. You throw it and he'll look at you like you just did a nasty in your pants. This is not for lack of trying. Believe me in his puppy years when he was too young to run I bought Frisbees, tennis balls, the whole gambit of throwable objects. It bore no fruit. And so my dog became a runner . . . and nothing else.
This suits me just fine. A dog, a runner, and the road.