I wonder what people made of my ghostly figure loping in the twilight across the flat expanse of the battlefield of Marston Moor last spring.
Actually if one were to fall into one of the deep drainage dikes and sprain an ankle it might be just as serious maybe as coming a cropper up on the moors.

I was wont to run along a disused railway line near Spofforth at night without bothering with a headtorch and when I ran into the cutting I experienced a significant element of frisson. Imagining phantom locomotives with eyeless engine drivers I tended to pick up speed.

Once when I came out of the cutting into a landscape bathed in the light of the full moon I sensed something at my left shoulder. Glancing sideways I saw something or [someone] nodding at me . I picked up speed and ran the 3K back to the lights of the village at well in excess of a personal best. I pulled up with savage cramp with a 100 metres to go and was convinced I'd given myself a serious calf strain.
Do you reckon spooky night running is perhaps good for cardio vascular fitness with the increase in heart rate due to being scared witless.