The Ramadhan Diaries (part 1)

Tuesday 25 August, 2.50am. I'm usually well tucked in by now, dreaming of glorious days ahead. But this is no typical day. As expected, the rigours of Ramadhan have flipped my body clock on its head. I'm just over an hour away from closing my fast; a spot of Weetabix and banana with some jasmine tea (mixed with a pinch of honey of course) to get me through the next 16 hours. Only hours ago I revelled in completing my first fast of the month, having missed the first two due to asthma issues. Fortunately, these seem to have subsided and I am back to normal training wise. Except not quite, because normal now means darting through the dark night streets of Oxford. There is only one sensible time to run during Ramadhan in August; after the evening Tarawih prayer, which concludes at 11.30pm. After all, I'm not going to attempt a day run with no access to water or inhalers. I completed a steady 10k run in decent enough time. It was just nice to get out there after 6 days of indoor exercise and rest, if only to remind my legs that they are not on vacation.

Running in the depths of the night is different. No better or worse. Sure, there are negatives, such as a need for greater focus to capture the all important 3 yards of ground that lies ahead to avoid sudden bumps. And pace is limited, as one is often running on nothing more enlightening than shadows. However, this is all counteracted by cooler weather conditions and a closer simulation of the likely temperature at 10am on October 11. Moreover, there is no issue of traffic; so long, annoying pedestrians! I find myself running in the middle of roads, giving a real sense of what to expect come race day. One thing that definitely sticks out, and I don't know for sure if this is a plus or not, is that I feel most isolated in the pitch black of night. It's like the world is asleep and I'm the only muppet who sees the point of running. In daylight, I pass runners all the time and develop an unspoken bond, like I'm in on a special secret. At night, it's the complete opposite and I feel totally alone. Alone, not lonely. My own brand of escapism. Well anyway, it's different.

With the exercise bike installed in the flat, I'll no doubt give it a whirl or two in the coming days. Coupled with the usual swim sessions, I have an active week ahead. It's tough on top of the fasting, but if you told me a year ago I'd be able to observe 16 hour fasts and soon after embark on a comfortable 10k run, I'd eat my imaginary hat. I call it progress. Still a long way to go, but I feel I'm well in the groove now.