The East Midlands Epic Part 1: The Long Trip South

So this was it. The one we’d all been waiting for. Project Leicester 2016, a chance if only for one day to slay the devil of that one word no-one wants to hear in their lives and make a change for the better. And it was with these thoughts that I forced maximum speed out of myself even on my long 10-11 mile runs this year, knowing full well that I would pay for it on Sunday club rides. The only concession I made to the “every run MUST be a beast run” regime was in the days leading up to races, and even then only major triathlons and team efforts, any chances of a sub-23 at Bickerstaffe also ended up in ruins on more than one occasion from forcing sub-39 minute 10k runs out of myself. But it was a fresh pair of legs that boarded the train at Lime Street station yesterday as the clock turned past quarter to three, as I sat back on the first of various trains for the weekend complete with Upper Crust pain au chocolat and mocha. But the journey would prove to be a bit of a marathon in itself, and I don’t mean the time spent running between levels for platform changes either. Here cometh Part One: the Long Trip South.

PAIN AU CHOCOLAT, PAIN DU CHOCOLAT, PAIN DU BRANDY AU CHOCOLAT - WAKE UP, IT’S THE WEEKEND!

The first train was a pretty straightforward journey, the Pendolino currently the quickest train as it goes direct from Liverpool to London Euston, but upon reaching Stafford it turned out the one for Nuneaton was cancelled, due to a train driver shortage. So the driver went out on Friday night, had a few too many shots with chocolate (brandy/Tia Maria/Baileys etc) and then thought a few extra hours in bed was more important than some of us getting to a TV screen for 5:30pm? Not good, and he already had a large lead in the Reject standings for the weekend. So I now had to wait quite some time for a train to Birmingham New Street, the closest railway station to the city centre and the first one I’ve been in that resembles an airport. I did briefly consider looking for a nearby pub to watch the Liverpool match in but then remembered that West Bromwich Albion are the sole West Midlands representative in the top flight since Villa, Birmingham City and Wolves all fell through the trapdoor. So I simply had to wait for the direct service to Leicester, which in itself was heaving with passengers, but at least I got a seat having been entertained in the meantime by a lone pigeon on Platform 9 eating its own tea in the form of a discarded biscuit. Eventually, after a third train which seemed to stop every 5 minutes like they do on Merseyrail, I reached the Grand Venue of Leicester for 6:10pm and got myself to Yates just as the half-time whistle went. Now what to do for carb loading?

SO THE SECOND HALF IS HARDER THAN THE FIRST - THANKS FOR WARNING ME, TOO LATE THOUGH

I sat down at Table 34 and ordered a pulled pork burrito with a side order of spiral fries and, because I was being really good, a glass of Coke. From my seat I watched the second half having followed the first on the BBC game tracker and so I knew we should have been out of sight by this time. Indeed the first 15 minutes weren’t at all bad, but then the red men seemed to run out of ideas and truth be told were rather lucky to hang on for the win at all. Just before West Brom pulled a goal back I polished the meal off with a salted caramel cake slice and ice cream, plus mocha, and all in all everything in Yates came to under £15. If only they’d got into Formby village before the Lifeboat appeared there, then again there’s always Ormskirk or Rainford I guess if the connie in Skem won’t let them in. Anyway, some Leicester City fans who were very happy about their own win earlier in the afternoon assured me that the Croft hotel was only about a mile away, so I set off at the final whistle and collected my “first breakfast” for the following morning from the Sainsbury’s Local, in the form of some granola squares, before getting the prize for whoever won the sweepstake from 23 Wine and Whisky, a designer off-licence which sells alcoholic drinks made in the local area. Now I had a mile of uphill walking to do back past the station and towards Victoria Park. It turns out that this hotel used to be accommodation during WW2. After that it became a school, was converted into a dentist, then a boarding house and back to a hotel. Eventually, after passing a car showroom I arrived at the hotel for 8pm to be greeted by the owner who gave me the key to room 18, so I put my things away and sat down to send messages.

Already it was apparent that this would be the most talked-about half marathon of all time in the St Helens Tri community and yet more messages wishing me well came in from various sources while I watched a BBC2 documentary about how to get kids reading. Put their phones away seemed to be the answer (ironic that given how my phone was blowing up with good-luck posts on my timeline) and come 9pm I didn’t really have much else I wanted to do, so after going downstairs to take in a bit of cool night air and pick up some leaflets I went back upstairs to prepare for an early night. By that I mean 9:30pm, even if I was momentarily awoken by some X Factor fans messing about on their way to a local bar after “the show” (I use that phrase extremely loosely nowadays) had finished. With pitch black all around I could be assured of a good night’s sleep, but also a 6:30am start the following morning to get all my systems switched on for the biggest race of my life, starting in Victoria Park at 9am.

Here’s the first page of results, in association with Yates, the wine bar every town over 20,000 people should have:

Driving Distance Avoided: 126 miles

Time taken to get there by train: 3 hours 23 minutes

Number of Trains: 3

Average Speed: don’t be silly

Food Budget: £4.50 at Upper Crust plus £14.10 in Yates

Items Forgotten: Earplugs (damn those bloody kids these days)

And then came the alarm at 6:30am. Turn to next thread for Part 2: The Biggest Race Ever.