love, running and marriage - Brathay 10 marathons in 10 days

Yesterday, love was such an easy game to play.
Now I need a place to hide away.
Oh, I believe in yesterday.

RUNNING is usually an antidote for life’s travails. I run to get rid of stress. I run when work is not going according to plan. And I run to get rid of tiredness (strange that but hey it works). And of course I run for wonderful charities like Brathay Trust (justgiving.com/jeff-prestridge).

Unfortunately, for the past week I’ve found running beyond me. It’s unlike me and it’s unsettling. But then big things are going on in my life.  I’m moving home after 28 years of marriage – from a comfortable four bedroom house in Hertfordshire to a one bedroom flat in London’s Docklands.  And yes, before you ask, all my fault (mea culpa and all that).

All rather stressful, all rather emotional and that’s without mentioning the role of the residents’ association/managing agents/estate agents who have made my life hell. I was supposed to be moving in on Friday March 30 and had done everything asked of me – given loads of dosh as security, paid rent in advance, provided references, filled in standing orders for frightening amounts of money and signed my life away.

But no, the managing agents/residents’ association weren’t having any of it. Working at the speed of a snail they decided they wanted to double check my background (thanks Lord Leveson). The result? While they procrastinate, dither and Rome burns, I’ve been forced to spend a weekend in a hotel. My belongings – few and far between - remain in a car parked under a building in London W8 ready to be disgorged. No matter what threats I made (disembowelment, exposure in the press, legals), the residents’ association wasn’t for shifting (quite literally). I’m currently a ‘suspect’, a nasty journalist (all journalists are nasty) and a persona non grata.

All this has made my back seize up (they say stress attacks your weakest point and mine, unfortunately, is my lower back). So, rather than de-stressing by running around the wonderful Royal Parks of London (Hyde, St James and Green) I’ve been distressed and hobbling around the offices of Associated Newspapers as if I am Long John Silver.

Hopefully, it’s a temporary blip and that once the residents’ association deems me fit and proper (maybe they won’t) and allows me to take up the tenancy agreement I have signed, everything will return to normal.

It better do! The Brathay 10 marathons in 10 days is creeping up fast and I feel woefully underprepared. I’m still carrying winter fat (winters in Hertfordshire can be terribly cold!), I’ve done few races and I’m not clocking enough miles. In short (and yes, I am only five foot eight), I’m not fit for purpose.

Of course I’ll be there on the start line on May 9 raring to go like some lurcher that has just spotted a hare. But it could be one tough 10 days.

At least I’ll run at a pace that knocks spots off the resident’s association that has made my life and back hell. If I finish I will ensure every single one of those luddites that sit on that pompous committee are forced to watch a video of my Brathay 10 in 10 experiences (including cold baths and  toe nails dropping off).  And sponsor me (justgiving.com/jeff-prestridge).

Keep healthy. Keep stress out of your life. And if you see a ginger headed guy wandering around a hotel foyer in the next few days with a bad back and spitting venom, say hello. But don’t mention the residents’ association. It will tip me over the edge!