I’ve been trying to regain my fitness. I started out by running a couple of miles a day along the canals near my apartment. Within a few weeks I was running five miles a day. Two weeks ago I signed up for the London Marathon. I’ll be running for Limitless, a charity for people and families dealing with brain damage.

I’ve just finished a twelve mile run, my longest yet and as I walk up the stairs to my apartment my legs are like jelly and my head is swirling with exhaustion. But I feel relaxed, and buoyed by my progress.

I’m meeting Gemma for lunch in an hour. I haven’t seen her for over a month, and for once I’m looking forward to talking to her, to updating her on where I’m at, both physically and mentally. She’s become a great sounding board for me recently. I’ve never felt so close to her in fact. Jason, on the other hand… we just fight all the time. I’m told it’s a common reaction. That TBI survivors will often take out their frustrations on their spouses more than anyone else, then be happy and amenable with others, even strangers. Something to do with safe zones and security and helping the brain to recover by venting. It goes hand-in-hand therefore that some seventy-five percent of TBI survivors get divorced.

But Jason and I aren’t even married.

What startles me most is that I don’t even feel sadness or regret to know that our relationship is teetering so close to breakdown.

I check my watch as I walk along the corridor. I’d only intended to run eight miles so I’m behind schedule. I have to rush to get out on time.

When I’m ready not long after, I walk briskly through Brindley Place to the French bistro where I’ve agreed to meet Gemma. I see her standing outside the entrance, checking her phone. She looks up and smiles at me. I’m still sweating from my run, though I’ve showered and washed my hair. My heart is pounding in my chest. I’m exhausted and looking forward to some food and a tall, cold drink. Gemma puts her phone away. I see her get ready to embrace me.

Then she freezes.

I realise I’ve stopped walking too. A look of concern sweeps across Gemma’s face as she stares at me.

A strange noise rumbles in my ears.

And then everything turns black…

It’s several hours later when I’m finally aware of what has happened. I’m in a hospital bed. Gemma and Jason are by my side. I’ve had a seizure. I’m told I pushed myself too far, that it was inevitable. It makes me angry to hear that so soon after the event.