I'm not what you'd call a morning person, but even I can appreciate the pre-dawn darkness where anything seems possible, like a Times Square bereft of squads of Elmos trolling for change. By 9am on Sunday there were still no red furry creatures in sight, though Seventh Avenue was squirming with people dressed quite literally in every color of a Crayola crayon box. It never ceases to amaze me how runners can look so happy. Is it a ploy to get me into cross trainers and spandex? Perhaps. Or maybe it's just fun and healthy and a great way to enjoy this city with so many sights and smells and colorful panhandlers.