Demon Dogs and Strange Shapes - a Fright-night Run

The best time of day to run is an individual matter.

- By Paul Tonkinson

In winter I tend to go out around midday, after a couple of hours' work. It breaks the day up and provides a pleasing afternoon tingle, a clarity that takes me through to teatime. But when pushed to the extremes of morning or evening, I enjoy the contrast - the bracing start to the day that a dawn run offers, or the absurd evening rush of a night-time run.

I used to run at night when I was a kid. Sometimes this was a byproduct of running twice a day, but the Harriers also used to meet in the evening, doing tempo runs or long reps, racing like a marauding street gang down the middle of the road, parting for traffic - CAR! - and darting on to the pavement. It was an exciting, giddy, competitive time. Set off at a fast lick, crank the pace, and hold on. Fix your eyes on the T-shirt in front as it dragged you out of the black into the orange glow of a streetlight, watching your breath plume in front of you. The dark almost gave you licence to run more recklessly - a different reality with different rules.