Mix a little George Clinton, 60 degree's, 4:45am, and you get poof magic on a perfect morning. 

There is, however, something a little spooky about running in town when there is no motion or sounds stirring up.  Before the birds awake, before the mothers begin cooking the morning breakfast (remember when we were excited about Eggo's, Pop Tarts, or Toaster Studels); everything is still, silent, and calm.  It makes running this early a bit magical and a bit insane.  Hey, I couldn't sleep anymore.  Maybe it is the mounting excitement of only having 12 days left or maybe I am just a bit nuts ;o)