The East Midlands Epic Part 2: The Biggest Race Ever

As they say, out of the darkness comes light. And it would prove to be the case today as 6:30am meant time to get up, with the hotel eerily quiet and the long winter nights making it almost impossible to see any signs of life outside. But that would change very soon as The Biggest Race Ever was about to hit Victoria Park. Read on to find out how the devil was slayed in historic fashion.

THEY SAY THE FIRST STEP IS THE HARDEST, BUT NOT AS HARD AS THE LAST MEAL

It was a good job I’d planned an early start as I needed to get my first breakfast down me as soon as I was fully awake. This I duly did after wriggling in and out of a shower that, like a lot of rooms in this old boarding house, seemed to have been designed by a pack of midgies. I ate the granola squares at 7am while it was still pitch black outside. At 7:45am, with a media blackout well and truly in force (sorry I didn’t check my phone for messages) I made my way downstairs to the breakfast room, where I was joined by two people doing the full marathon, Kerstin from London and Ben from Norwich. Kerstin was like me in that she was on her first trip to the home of the 2016 Premier League Champions while Ben had done a 3:55 full marathon time on home ground a few weeks ago and was out to get another PB today. Let’s just say they had more pressure on them than me, as when it’s your first attempt at a distance it’s an automatic PB anyway. Weetabix was favoured by the majority, as was apple juice and eggs, even if we all avoided the Full English (me included!) as the clock was now well past eight and in only 75 minutes time we’d be leaving Victoria Park. Truth be told, I was so nervous I struggled to finish my food - to say nothing of what convicts in America must go through when trying to eat the fabled “last meal” - but after dropping my belongings behind reception I made my way over the road to Victoria Park, where I came across Laura and Charlie. It was Laura’s home half marathon while Charlie had come from another rugby union powerhouse, Northampton, who won the 2000 European Cup the year before Leicester’s famous “who needs a field goal, let’s win it now” championship in 2001. They made their way to starting pens further back while I wandered through the various groups of people trying not to shiver in my new St Helens Tri running vest which I only picked up on Friday while passing through Warrington. There was a cracking atmosphere, but strangely no Capital FM bandstand knocking out Calvin Harris or Sigala (I trust you saw my post yesterday about Sweet Lovin’ being the best race day tune of all time, that guy can do no wrong). It was decided that the corporate relay challenge runners would set off first, just a few seconds ahead of the main race, and this would make for quite a logjam as we left Victoria Park for what was, in case you hadn’t already worked out, was one of those moments when the old X Factor Voice Over Man should have been on hand to shout “LIVE! FROM LEICESTER……….”

COMING SOON: THE SKELMERSDALE WALKWAY HALF MARATHON, IN ASSOCIATION WITH THE CONNIE

The first mile was all slightly downhill as we headed towards the train station in a serious case of déjà vu. There was plenty of jostling for position through a very fine misty rain shower as some of the relay challenge runners were taking an age to get going and those of us out for 13.1 or 26.2 had real personal competitive instincts on our minds, like getting track position early. For my part this meant not reaching the (admittedly poorly placed) 1 mile board in 6:45, which I thought either must be well wrong or a terrible start for me. As luck would have it we passed the 2 mile marker as my watch reached 12:45, so I knew I couldn’t have done a six minute mile so early in what was likely to be around an 85 minute race. As we approached a series of out-of-town retail parks we saw the first drinks station. I still haven’t tried actually using any of these for hydration preferring to simply dunk the contents over my head but what is normally a very welcome cool-me-down actually turned out to be the reincarnation of the Ice Bucket Challenge and I was now gasping for air like I’d been dropped into the swim at the Snowman Triathlon before we even reached the 4 mile mark, after which we passed through a street of houses complete with Leicester Tigers rugby fans out in force cheering us on before their team’s big game later in the day against Racing 92. At least the long straights and endless roundabouts were a speed freak’s heaven, and indeed the numbers lining the course with bikes and the hordes cheering us on from the over-the-road walkways made me think; surely if they levelled the old high school with 200 sticks of dynamite then used the site plus the connie as a giant car park they could then host a similar event in our neck of the woods, complete with relay challenge pit lane at Half Mile Island or Lathom High? It might be more consistently quick than Leicester as a course too, as although the route was fairly straightforward for the first 5 miles, things would get a bit technical in the middle segment as there were plenty of parkland trails, bollards and bridges to overcome, and now the going really started to get tough.

GUNS DON’T KILL PEOPLE, PUPPIES DO, OR MAYBE IT’S JUST CHINOOK

Shortly after the aforementioned walkway we reached the halfway point of the race where yet more water dunking was the order of the day and I passed a girl from Northampton Running Club who certainly looked strong enough to become a triathlete. It was just after this point that a particularly quick relay runner got the coveted accolade of being the only person to pass me all race, but then again we weren’t in the same race and he wasn’t worth chasing after. He picked a good time to get away too, as the first of two bridges through Watermead Country Park, where someone had to yank their dog out the way rather reluctantly and a little white Yorkshire Terrier similar to the one that starred in the Lytham incident three years ago got very excited as a pair of Asics Hyperspeed 6’s blazed past. After the parkland came a housing estate, at the exit of which Water Stop Number 3 appeared. I grabbed one but the cadets at the far end of pit road shouted “high 5’s”. Looking back I’m pretty sure he meant the sports nutrition brand and not to give him an actual high 5 and the end result was me trying to do exactly that, only to knock a second water cup out of his hand! Or to put it another way, he got CHINOOK’D. This was followed by a long steady descent to a road crossing, where the marshals held out stop/go boards to the traffic to let us, or them, go. But naturally, no-one messes with St Helens Tri, especially when one of the spectators recognises the club vest. I’ve no idea who our new-found fan really is but he gave me a boost as we approached the Birstall flyover, which meant it was time to start counting down the miles back to the city centre. A final segment of parkland past the National Space Centre was the last bit of fallen leaves plus fine misty rain we had to contend with, or more to the point the last possibility of me crashing in consecutive races. By this time the 11 mile board was in full view, but we knew there were more climbs up ahead, and an additional one not mentioned on the race briefing, as we got a taste of running New York style through the subway then out into the shopping complex, complete with samba band cheering us on! By this time I was starting to get really tense in the back of my calves and I wasn’t yet ready to believe I was going to make it, after all it’s been a year of epic flameouts on major long-distance events like the Liverpool-Chester 100 miler where only I needed every pitstop to beat the other A groupers to the flag. There was now a real closing up of the field, with a bloke in a black and orange vest never really regaining momentum after he came close to tripping up in the underground. I dispatched him before the last long climb of the day, where once again the marshals were exemplary in keeping the traffic still. Now there was just one more catchable runner ahead of me and I ran at the same pace as him about two lengths behind prior to the summit, but upon turning right there was just one final thing to do between the 12.9 mile and 13.1 mile points: YOLO!

A TRUE FINAL SPRINT, AND EVER MORE TRUE FINAL REFLECTIONS

As the finish line appeared my vision became blurry from the sheer effort of YOLOING as soon as I did. The sweepstake was now very much on the line as nine people had taken part and the “break even” point didn’t exist, not just because there was an odd number of entries but because the 4^th and 5^th seeded times put down by Lee Stinch and Eddie Hirst were a second apart. I think the faster predictions were based on my runs at the track on Monday evenings but a bigger determinative factor would prove to be something Howard Walker said on a recent A group bike ride when some went into “STOP AT NOTHING TO DESTROY EVERYONE” mode, and he was proven absolutely right that such an impossibly difficult ride would help me in Leicester, because despite running well over double my longest previous race my upper legs weren’t feeling out of gas like they usually do. This turned out to be absolutely huge as I put on a true YOLO effort in every sense of the road, reminding myself all the time of why I was doing it, and this continued all the way to the ultimate finish line as I went under the giant inflatable in a chip time of 1:24:23, good enough to beat six of the nine predictions set, put me in the top 35, and most of all, finish the job I set myself exactly twelve months ago. Sure, luck with the weather played its part, but it was the greatest sporting achievement of my entire life, all encapsulated in 85 minutes of running like there’s no tomorrow.

The minutes after the race were like nothing I’ve experienced before. After recovering my senses, picking up my medal and taking a size medium t-shirt (there’s upsizing for you) I began the long walk back to the hotel reflecting on what I’ve put myself through, and the person whose passing motivated me to take on such a challenge. Project Leicester has been more than just a one-day race, it’s the first time I’ve ever pretty mortgaged an entire year’s training on a “step up” challenge, much like those who do Ironman or the HMCC hordes who took on the 312 (and have since eased away from me on many a beast mode segment during club rides). It’s just as well in such an emotionally charged situation that no NFL film music or 30 Seconds to Mars tracks were on in the background or I might well have gone over the proverbial edge, close as I was already to it (there’s a hopeless pun for one of the best songs of the last 10 years too). So I staggered back to the Croft to get showered and changed, and I thanked the staff for hiding my valuables and the sweepstake prize, won by Lee Stinch with his 1:24:30, because now I could go back to the park and watch my fellow Team Croft entrants cross the line, with Kerstin coming home in 3:46:45 but very contented, even more so when I handed over a Nutrigrain bar, and Ben who was in a very happy mood indeed as he’d gone one better than a sub 3:55, he’d gone sub 3:54 with a 3:53:40 which easily beat his Norwich time. He also collected some of my surplus snack bars, just as well I didn’t get one to the Reject award winner though. This one had it all; another Mr Giant Sized Pink Panther as per what happened in St Annes back in May, only on this occasion the miscreant stopped a metre from the line and KISSED the timing beam that records your chip time! He gets the ROTR prize for three things; not understanding YOLO, giving himself silver metal coloured lips and making a total prat of himself, the only thing missing was the belly flop. Anyway, it was now time to make my way up the hill to the train station; I was so keen to get home now I even decided to forego any proper lunch and simply eat the supplies I’d picked up at the race, only topping up at Liverpool Central station where I visited Archie’s, another play on Shake Shack in that it has about 145 varieties of shake to try but also a range of burgers and chicken stackers a la KFC. 30 minutes and one “stand up all the way” train later I was home in Formby, reflecting on how I’d taken on the devil and slayed it in one go. And even got a grand weekend away into the bargain too.

Now for the race day results, in partnership with the Croft Hotel, Leicester:

Distance: 13.1miles/21.1km

Time: 1:24:23

Final Position: 35^th on chip time

Average Speed: Bang on 15kmh

Dogs: 2

Bridges: 2

Bands On The Field: 0 (the samba street stars kept out of the way)

Best Moment Of My Sporting Life: The longest YOLO ever in extreme pain which celebrated my mum’s life in a way like no other

REJECT OF THE RACE: Giant Sized Pink Panther, Project Leicester Edition

(Rob Mcleod, if you’re reading this, don’t let him anywhere near Edge Hill or the Marine Lake, OK?)

Time for me to sign off as the East Midlands Epic to End All Epics goes into the books. In the meantime, a big thank you to everyone who made this happen, including St Helens Tri and the ones at last year’s Rainford dinner who said “you’ll piss a HM” which presumably means I have to now go back next year to do the full enchilada. In addition thank you to those who stepped up on the bikes this year, because I never thought some of them could do a 312 or an Ironman but they also helped me believe it was possible. And a big hand also for the brilliant marshals and street stars who did everything right to keep the event over such a myriad of parks and busy roads running like clockwork and allow Leicester to have its second big party of the year. We could have let the events of 366 days ago to defeat us, and defeat us they could have done, but we went and did something about it. The fundraising page is still open at https://www.justgiving.com/fundraising/Robert-Chesters but in any case, I think we should kick back and pour another large one. We made history today!