An American in Provence

So, against my better judgement, I have gotten back into running. Quite reluctantly I must say.
But I am trying to go three times a week, at least 20 minutes. Alain goes with me if I go on the weekend.
There are three options: take the public transportation down to the seaside or a big park or something, run, take the public transportation back. Costly and time consuming.
Option 2: go to the nearby park that is supposedly "open". This requires scaling over the fence to access the soccer field, basketball courts, or track. It is never open. We have gone at 9 when it is supposed to open at 8:30 and nothing. So we scale over the fence. Fortunately we found an area where we don't risk being impaled on a spike.
Option 3: run on the streets around here. If you do this, you must complete your run by 8 a.m. It gets bright enough to run around 7, so you have an hour before the streets are invaded by anklebitters. And no, I don't mean dogs.
Between 8 and 8:30: Seriously irritate mothers who are afraid that you are about to steamroll their spawn. Well then don't take up the entire sidewalk! Leave half for people passing or going in the opposite direction. This also requires frequent death-defying zigzags into the street to avoid the old lady with her basket going to market or fashionable yet annoyed women walking their dog before work. Other things to watch for: cars parking on sidewalk (hereby reducing sidewalk pedestrian space to zilch), dog droppings, random trash, uneven sidewalks and steps sticking too far out, and grocer stands. It is really quite a challenge.
When the sun comes up even later, I think I will have to wait until all children are safely tucked into their schools to venture out.
Plus, running doesn't seem so common here. People look at you with a look like "What the heck is she DOING? Why waste energy like that and get SWEATY?"
To work off all your damn cheese!