…the grass field right next to the jogging track seems to be the primary choice. You are in luck today: no one is using this park for a family reunion or a marriage or something, just a few people casually picnicking.
There's not even the slightest hint of hesitation, as you immediately zoomed around in the caress of the light summer wind, once again gently breezing through your upper torso, not to mention the feel of your paws on the soft, lush grass, and the luminance of the sun on your skin without the scalding of your paws. This is even more euphoric than running on the concrete track: now you truly feel like a real greyhound, dashing through the yellowish field (granted, your canine eyes cannot see green), unhindered by anything, a nearly instinctual, yet incomparable joy.
A hare suddenly enters your field of vision, catching your attention immediately. You cruise through the field, trying to catch up with what your intuition tells you is your natural prey. Even as you try to pick up more speed, the hare seems to always dash faster than you can, at least for a while; once you've got the hang of it, the distance from the hare behind to shorten. You knew that, unlike a normal greyhound with the head close to the ground, if you allow the hare to go right beneath your head you cannot catch it with your handpaws or head, so once you find the hare close enough, lean you upper torso forward, and snap your teeth shut.
You succeed, the hare snagged between your jaws. Raising your upper torso back up (once again, such that your whole body returns to the default L-shape), you release your jaws, a habdpaw grabbing the hare tight. That's dinner settled.
Maybe it's best to head back home for now. Good thing you are quite close to another exit of the park, and turning around the corner you find the familiar flight of stairs again. Going upstairs is much easier, not much different from a normal dog walking up stairs, since your upper torso leans backwards now, but not behind your lower torso, making it much easier to maintain balance. People actually begin to stare at you with mild disdain now, maybe because of the hare in your hand. So what? That's what a greyhound naturally does, and you are no exception.
You return to the parking lot of the zoo, and try to find your car. It's slightly more difficult given your changed colour vision, but you find it by the license plate. It's a thirty minute ride home, but as soon as you open the car door, the problem came to you: how do you even fit inside the car?