British 24 Hours. Part 3 of 3: the final 12 hours

Click here to read Part 1.

Click here to read Part 2.

Sunday 17 August

1.30am.

With six hours in hand until my final stint, I'm just beginning to shut down when Lee Jones appears and, apologetically, summons me back to the pitlane. Jonny Spencer's pitstop is upon us; I learn that he and Lee will be double-stinting overnight, partly so that Lee can leave early and continue his holiday with the family. Having rested overnight, Russell and Lee Hackett will alternate in the morning - supported by Sophie on the pitwall - to bring #11 home.

Still in my wet race gear, cold and bone-weary, I try and imagine getting straight back in the kart for another two hours. I would have done it if called upon, of course. But I'm heartily glad that I don't have to.

Jonny is in the fuel bay, standing beside the kart as the fuellers get to work, Lee giving him a pep talk over the radio. Then he pushes the kart around to us, hops in as we start him up, and away he goes. Even allowing for the wet conditions he will have covered more than 150 laps - 200 miles - by the end of his four hour double stint. Respect.

Back under the awning, the kettle's on; hot chocolate tastes sweeter than ever. I struggle out of my soaked overalls, cup my hands around the steaming mug, watch Lee Hollywood dancing #22 through the fast chicane at improbable speed on the slick surface. Marianne wears the headset, turns to me.
"He wants laptimes..."

I pick up the weariness in her voice and, for the first time in half a day, take a good look at my wife. She's been working flat out - mostly on her feet - for 19 hours now, and is long overdue a break. I take the headset and her phone up into the cafe. In the dry and warm, I spend a few minutes monitoring Lee's laptimes, updating him over the radio, and posting a Facebook update about our progress. The rain has died off a little but the circuit is still over ten seconds away from dry pace; Lee is lapping at least half a second faster than any other team in Club Hire. Only the leaders and our own Jonny Spencer in #11 are anywhere near his pace. Lee has gained another place to bring us up to fourth; Jonny is tenth despite having lost time in the pits to a brake problem.

Geoff White, father of Ed, is at the next table; we swap updates. Ed is on track now for the Titan Motorsports owner team, which has had its share of niggling problems and is running in the lower reaches of the top ten in its class. Ed, however, is flying in the tricky conditions, taking chunks of time out of his immediate competition. Business as usual, then.

After a couple of hours' rest, Alex and Lauren have returned to the team awning, with relief, Marianne and I hand over to them and retire to our tent. It's just after 3am; we set the alarm for 5.30am, try and shut out the racket of the petrol generator twenty metres away.

Two blinks later the stopwatch is beeping, hanging above my head. Wind gusts, tugging at the tent, grey daylight flickering between the moving branches of the trees above. The generator still roars nearby but something's missing: the karts. The race has been stopped; I yank on my clothes and stumble back out to the paddock.

The engines start up as I arrive, Marianne shortly behind: Lee Hackett fills us in. It was another crash for one of the Kartforce teams, thankfully less serious than the first one in the early hours. The driver is, we're told, shaken but unhurt. In even better news, the driver involved in the first crash has been released from hospital having escaped serious injury, and has returned to the circuit. That is a big relief.

Alex is in #22 approaching the end of his stint, while Lee Jones is just about midway through his marathon double stint in #11. Both crews have gained a place in the last couple of hours - #11 up to ninth, #22 back into a podium position in third. It's been a tough night for Corporate Chauffeurs, but hard work and great damage limitation has brought us through in good shape. With seven hours still to go, I try not to think about the podium.

It's pitstop time; Lee Hackett and I and a couple of others troop around to the pitlane. We turn first #22 and then #11 around without major incident - though there's a minor delay for #11. I start the right engine, hear a shout beside me and assume I haven't got it running. I pull the cord again, but there's no give: the engine is running. The cause of the delay is elsewhere: in the kart, Lee Jones is fumbling with the fuel cap, which isn't seated correctly; it takes him five seconds to sort it out and gun the kart towards the pit exit. Momentary panic, but no lasting problem.

With Michael into his final stint in #22, it's time for me to start preparing for mine. Lauren, Sophie and Marianne are working overtime at the camping stove producing breakfast for the team. The fatigue is beginning to bite now; my stomach is very reluctant to accept the (delicious) bowl of porridge handed to me. Lee Hollywood - due on track after me at around 10am - has returned after a couple of hours' downtime, but looks grey with exhaustion. "I don't feel so good..."

Crucially, Sophie has had a little more rest, and does much to lift everyone's flagging spirits and energy levels. My stomach beats a grumbling retreat, having managed to keep down my breakfast; I follow it with the strongest coffee I can remember. Minute by minute, as the sky turns from grey to blue and sunlight begins to wash across the circuit, I begin to feel human again.

At 7.30am it's time to get ready. With energy only for the task at hand, my surroundings are a blur. If we're to make the podium, we must all cast the fatigue aside and produce a clean final stint. Third time around, my ritual is automatic: ankle weight on, overalls on, rib protector, kneepads, boots, elbow pads, radio cabling adjusted, helmet on, radio transceiver clipped to rib protector strap, switch on, test, volume, retest, velcro Push-To-Talk button to overalls lap belt, grab seat insert... and wait for the call. There's a brief delay while Marianne changes the battery on my radio, to eradicate the irritating warning beep in my head.

Alex, Lee Hollywood and Marianne walk with me around to the pitlane. We meet Lee Jones on the way - somehow still conscious after over four hours in #11 - and I say a hasty goodbye. He'll have left before my stint is over; I'm sorry I don't have more time to thank him for all his help.

As I wait for Michael, the adrenalin is doing its thing: the tingle runs from my core to my fingertips. By the time I hear Marianne give him the BOX command I'm practically hopping from foot to foot. Michael rolls #22 into an empty fuel bay - perfect timing yet again - and delivers us the kart in excellent time. Like clockwork, I'm in and away; throughout the race, the pitstops on both karts have been exemplary.

The third stint always feels different. The circuit often seems quieter somehow, as if the field has clumped into three or four big trains, leaving long gaps in between. With Marianne urging me on over the radio, I dig deep and pour everything I have into extracting every last tenth without putting a wheel wrong or overstressing the kart. All fatigue has lifted away; my ten weeks of Teesside-specific training - hundreds of miles run, thousands of repeats in weight and core strength training - are paying off. I'm loving every second and the traffic - both Standard Hire and other Club Hire karts - is falling out of my way.

When Marianne gives me the one hour check, she asks if I can carry on for a full second hour: it will reduce the length of Lee and Alex's final stints to around 90 minutes. I remember the pallor of Lee's skin and answer yes without a second thought. I'm managing just fine and the pace is strong.

In my final 30 minutes the adrenalin finally starts to lose its battle with exhaustion; still it's with a pang of regret that I hear the BOX command. I peel into the pitlane, register over 215kg on the weighbridge again - could have managed without the ankle weight after all - and pour my last calories into pushing the kart towards the driver change area before releasing it to Jonny and Alex, and jumping out of the way. As Lee Hollywood blasts away towards the pit exit, I lean on the barrier as the others crowd around me.

Job done. I've kept us in third place. There's little for me to do now but wait. And dare to hope.

And eat. While I've done two hours on track, the girls - and Lauren in particular - appear to have done a similar stint making bacon sandwiches. Lauren takes a break from the camping stove while Marianne creates the Mother of all bacon and egg baps for me. Life is good - and improves further when an abundance of bacon grants me a second bap. Despite the number of Corporate Chauffeurs bodies, we've overcatered; Marianne begins stopping passersby and offering them food. Ryan Smith looks tempted, but is soon due on track for his final stint.

The Squadra Abarth team - Ryan, Connor Marsh, Ben Allward, captain Mike Kettlewell and pit/strategy wizard David Hird - have been beavering away since a couple of issues dropped them to 18th in class in the early hours. They're back up to fourth, a couple of laps behind us, and are keeping us on our toes - a compact, efficient team which combines serious pace with local knowledge.

The Northampton Maidens are still second, two laps ahead of us, having shown searing pace since the opening hour and, as far as I know, suffered no major issues. Leaders Teesside Tigers are long gone; having made the most of a visible straight line speed advantage, they're several laps ahead and will easily win our class barring any mishaps.

Lee Hollywood grits his way through his final stint with typical finesse; as 11.30am approaches, we troop around to the pitlane for the final time: Russell will take over from Lee Hackett to bring #11 home, with Sophie on the radio, while Marianne will call Lee in to hand #22 over to Alex. There's an end-of term feel in the air; with 90 minutes to go, a journey which started within days of last year's race will soon end.

#11 is turned around first, without delay; Russell heading out for the final time. They're ninth in class, with no hope of advancement unless other teams have problems; yet their enthusiasm is undimmed.

Marianne and Alex call Corporate Chauffeurs' final pitstop of 2014. Like virtually all the others it's as slick as a very slick thing. Only an avoidable extra pitstop for #22 in hour 10 mars an otherwise flawless record. With two karts to service and twice as many opportunities for things to go wrong, the team has risen to the challenge; from an operational standpoint, 2014 is easily our best year at the British 24 Hours.

Now, the minutes count down and we worry. We derig the awning, tidy away our gear, begin loading up the cars to try and avoid thinking about the race. About the karts and the merciless beating they've taken over a thousand plus miles. About how tired Alex and Russell must now be. We know, as every endurance race team knows, that our podium finish could evaporate in a second. It's happened to us before.

With half an hour to go, Marianne, Michael and I encounter Becca outside the briefing room. She raises her hands. "You're up to second!"

"What?"

Hurriedly she fills us in. The Northampton Maidens #37 kart lost its Nassau panel at high speed and has been stopped out on track while it's replaced. We've passed them and so has the Squadra Abarth team, dropping them to fourth.

We're not jumping for joy, though. Michael voices all our thoughts.
"I don't like getting second like that..."

There's talk in Race Control, briefly, of giving them the laps back, of restoring them to their original position. It comes to nothing and rightly so; the kart can run without its Nassau panel but is not legal. It's a mechanical failure. Cruel luck for the Maidens, and we sympathize. To their great credit, they seem philosophical about it - outwardly at least.

While this has been going on, the 68-kart leviathan continues to roar towards its conclusion, the leaders well past a thousand laps - 1300 miles - and counting. With five minutes to run, we crowd the barriers, anxiously seeking out our men and our machines, praying that both will last for just a few more miles.

1pm has come and gone by my watch, the held breath threatening to explode my chest... then I see them. Twin chequered flags held high, either side of the finishing line... dropped as the overall winners - MS Soco Select - power through. We cheer Russell home in #11, then I'm looking for Alex. I find him at the end of the banking... through the right hander, then the slow left, accelerating towards the line.

I'm up on the barriers, fist punching the air as Alex takes the flag in second place and the weight of three years of dashed hopes, disappointment and heartache lifts from my shoulders. It's done.

Like every male I avoid visible emotion at all costs, but I can't hold back the tears as I hug my wife and the others who made it happen. There's a huge gulf between knowing you're good enough for the podium and actually proving it; ascending the steps (to a huge cheer from the assembled populace) with the rest of the #22 crew is one of the sweetest racing moments of my life. As Alex accepts the trophy, his grin surely must be visible from space.

I'm delighted to be able to join the Squadra Abarth team up there - their third consecutive third place. Mike, Ryan, Connor and Ben - and their supporters - are as pleased for us as we are for them.

The winning team - Teesside Tigers - ran unchallenged for the length of the race. That doesn't make it any easier though. They had the machinery to win, and they won: we salute them.

There's a lasting ovation for the Northampton Maidens, denied a debut podium in the final minutes; they win a trophy for fastest lap in Club Hire and are named the most sporting team - thoroughly deserved.

There's more applause and thanks for the hardworking Teesside staff. This race is as relentless for the marshals, mechanics and race control staff as it is for us. A special mention for the fuel bay crews, who go about their dangerous job with speed, efficiency and endless good cheer - greatly appreciated by exhausted drivers in the dead of night.

For 2014, that just about wraps it up. There's still unfinished business, of course - until Corporate Chauffeurs finishes 1-2, there always will be. The #11 crew - Lee Jones, Lee Hackett, Russell Endean and Jonny Spencer, with Sophie and John backing them up - is an exceptional driver lineup; ninth place both a poor reward for their talent and dedication, and a place or two higher than most would have managed.

For #22 - Alex Vangeen, Lee Hollywood, Michael Weddell and myself, backed up by Marianne, Lauren and Chris Hollywood - the chips have finally fallen our way. We didn't execute a perfect race - there are lessons to be learned, as always - but our result is the best we could have achieved with the machinery we had.

For me, better even than the result is the spirit, the commitment, the enthusiasm and the sheer hard work put in by each and every member of the team - drivers and supporters alike; I'm privileged to work with them. The support we receive, both from our friends in the karting community and elsewhere, is hugely appreciated.

I think Michael summed up the Corporate Chauffeurs experience best of all:

"I LOVE THIS TEAM!!"

Thanks for reading.

Click here to read Part 1.

Click here to read Part 2.

British 24 Hours. Part 2 of 3: The first 12 hours

Click here to read Part 1.

Click here to read Part 3.

Saturday 16 August

The flag drops.

We drown out the engines as, seemingly in slow motion, the drivers dash for the karts... Michael slightly ahead of the pack, Alex holding the kart steady as he drops neatly into the seat... away, we're cheering as Lee Hackett accelerates past us in #11, the midfield pack tightly bunched... I'm already jogging back towards the awning as the back of the field disappears over the brow of the hill towards Turn 2.

Briefly, it all goes quiet - then the first of the owner karts erupts out from behind the hill in the centre of the circuit. They're line astern into the Esses at 75mph for the first of a thousand plus passes, the Club Hire field following a little way back. I search for Michael and find him fourth, dicing hard with Jonny Elliott in the ESR team kart.

Over the next 90 minutes, as the owner field pulls away at six to eight seconds a lap, the battle for Club Hire supremacy rages between Michael in #22, Jonny in the ESR, the #37 Northampton Maidens kart and the leading #16 Teesside Tigers machine - the latter beginning to stamp its authority and pull away. Michael is stunningly quick but occasionally a little ragged: a minor mishap with a Standard Hire backmarker sees him drop to 7th after being launched over one of the brutal Esses kerbs. I get on the radio and - as diplomatically as I can - ask him to take it easy. He's driving brilliantly - better than I would be - but there's a hell of a long way to go.

In #11, Lee Hackett is doing a sterling job in his first ever two hour stint and has lifted them from their grid slot of 16th to the fringes of the top ten. As I start to shut out the world and get ready for my stint, Jonny Spencer - who will take over #11 from Lee - is doing the same. Like last year, I'm forced to wear an ankle weight to clear the minimum weight limit - despite a month of cramming in the carbs - but Alex has made my life infinitely easier by bringing a much slimmer set of weights which comfortably fit under my overalls. No more hopping around on one foot with the seams of my overalls tearing.

We've elected to shorten the first stint slightly in the hope of bringing Michael into an empty pitlane; suddenly it's 2.45pm and I'm poised, seat insert in one hand, radio button in the other. Michael is in with no delay... as he pushes the kart over the line into the driver change area we descend upon it - Alex and Lee Hollywood starting the engines as I drop my seat insert into place and follow it. I'm still velcroing my PTT button to the steering wheel when I get the 'GO!' command and leave it slightly loose as I boot it.

Out on track I'm busy straight away, in amongst a train of owner karts, other Club Hires mixed in. In the rush since this morning I've not had much time to dwell on my worries about the kart, but they return with a vengeance almost immediately. I'm struggling to adapt to the oversteery balance, losing time in the crucial low-speed corners and being passed left, right and centre.

The owner karts have had a specification change this year, more powerful engines making the closing speeds even higher. Yet many of them seem oddly tentative when passing. Time after time they get halfway alongside me into the corners and hover there, neither backing off nor completing the move, compromising my line and slowing me down. Others are wildly optimistic, taking unnecessary risks in the high-speed corners; after being clouted hard on the entry to the fast chicane for the second lap in succession, I get on the radio and vent my frustration at the last person who deserves it - Marianne. Once I've turned the air blue, there's a short pause before she tentatively asks if there's anything she can do.

It's not a happy first hour.

But gradually, my laptimes start to improve as I anticipate the behaviour of the owner drivers - which I'm still not impressed by - and get a handle on the balance of the kart. I'm still a second or more away from Michael's pace in the opening stint, but the overall pace seems to have slowed: I'm losing time to the leaders but maintaining the gap to the karts around me. Having been overtaken by Ben Allward in the Squadra Abarth kart - which lost positions early on - I keep him in sight, using him to slipstream along the straights whenever I can.

And then, 90 minutes into my stint, petty worries about laptimes are put firmly in perspective when the race is red flagged; I'd been surprised by a marshal running across the track as I approached the pit entry, leaving a pretty narrow margin; as we trickle through the Esses at jogging pace, there's a kart embedded in the tyrewall before the hairpin. The driver is still in his seat, surrounded by marshals and a paramedic, motionless, his head being held upright. My throat is dry. It's an owner kart, which has gone off at a flat-out, 75mph section of the circuit.

The field is brought to a halt on the straight before the pit entry as the circuit ambulance arrives on the scene; we're instructed to switch off and get out. This is going to take a while. I realise that the injured driver is a member of one of the Kartforce crews of wounded veterans.

The circuit medics have called an external ambulance to take him to hospital; once it arrives, they take their time stabilising him. It's a full forty minutes - enough time for me to return to the awning and take on some fluids - before we're told to return to the karts. After another delay while the field is reassembled in order - during which I manage a brief chat with Ed White and Connor Marsh - we're underway again. Though I would never wish misfortune on anybody, the stoppage has helped us, wiping out some of the time I lost early on. Having started my stint in fourth place, I briefly fell to fifth before regaining the place. As is so often the case, my stint isn't as bad as it felt on track; we're still in the hunt for a podium.

Spirits lifted, I reel off another twenty laps or so without incident before Marianne gives me the 'BOX' command. Into the pitlane, slowing to walking pace, stop on the weighbridge - which reads 212.6kg, so the ankle weight did the job - leap out at the fuel bay, wait while the kart is refuelled, thank the ever-cheerful refuelling crew, push the kart 40 metres or so along the pitlane through the left turn into the driver change area. The others descend; I briefly forget that my seat insert needs to stay put; remember as Lee pushes it back into place and jumps in. Engines started, he rockets away. Solid pitstop.

Under the team awning, the girls have been busy: what looks like a truckload of fresh food has joined the stash of snacks and water. The air is redolent with the smell of roast chicken. Including the stoppage my stint has effectively lasted nearly three hours: as the adrenalin trickles away I realise that I'm starving. When Marianne offers me chicken curry for dinner, I nearly get down on one knee and propose on the spot - before remembering that we did that already.

It's 6pm. Five hours in, the sun is turning the scattered clouds gold, the temperature already beginning to drop. With a bowl of curry and cous-cous and a little time to reflect, I try to get my frustration under control. I was undeniably slow at the beginning - Marianne reveals that Alex was fretting, pressuring her to tell me to push, which would have been counterproductive - but I've managed not to lose us any places. Funds have severely limited my racing in 2014 - just three outdoor races since the British 24 Hours last year - and the rustiness has taken its toll. It could have been worse. I didn't actually do anything stupid.

And now, I've shaken off the cobwebs. Later than I'd have liked, but the pace is there and I'll be up to scratch in my two remaining stints.

On track, Lee Hollywood is pushing hard, lapping faster than all but the leading Teesside Tigers team; a cheer goes up as he retakes third place half an hour into his stint. #11 is still struggling for raw pace but Russell is dragging everything out of it and still running 11th. Spirits are high in Corporate Chauffeurs world as calories are ingested and we begin to hunker down for the long night ahead.

At 7.40pm we bring Lee Hollywood in and send Alex on his way. Again the pitstop is silky smooth, helped by the fact that we don't have to lubricate our own chains this year - the fuel bay crew is doing it for us. I head back to the awning and use the Race Monitor app on Marianne's phone to watch Alex's laptimes. The reason he was so anxious about my early pace was that he's usually a little slower than me due to weight; like me, he knows we have a real shot at this, and he doesn't want it to slip away. His laptimes start off steady but he finds his rhythm quicker than I did, and they improve. We're still P3. All is well.

Until just after 9pm, when I spot Alex on his way into the pits, prematurely, thumping his fist in fury on the wheel.

No, no, no... I'm already sprinting across the gravel between the buildings, along the alley between pit and paddock, down the hill to the Club Hire garage. Alex is there before I am, which tells me he's driven through the pits without refuelling; I mentally kick myself for not getting Lauren to remind him over the radio.

Alex is out of the kart, absolutely distraught as the mechanic examines the flat left-front tyre: he's made a rare mistake, going a little deep into the hairpin and dropping the left front wheel over the inside of the kerb. It's pulled the tyre off the rim but hasn't punctured it; the mechanics are already reinflating it. I tell him to take a deep breath and get past it; within a minute he's back in and ready to go. I take four attempts to start the left engine - this seems to happen every year, and in a flash of clarity I wonder if it's something to do with being left handed - but Alex is soon away as we jog up the hill to assess the damage to our race.

The plan is for Alex to pit straight away and hand over to Michael, but his radio cables are tangled; I tell Lauren to leave Alex out for a lap or two. This is getting messy. Mercifully, Alex comes in to an empty fuel bay; I hear him groan in effort as he pushes the kart into the driver change area and I tell him to start the left engine. I start the right engine this time, with no issues, and Michael is on his way.

We head into the briefing room where the main timing screen is located. The story is grim: we've lost at least four laps, and have dropped to tenth place. Back under the awning, Alex is practically in tears.
"I'm so sorry, guys..."

We try and reassure him, but all the drivers know exactly how he feels. No amount of consoling will help. It was a tiny mistake, so easily made, and he was dreadfully unlucky to lose the tyre - I saw several others get away with it - but there's no getting around the fact that it might have cost us our coveted podium. This is what makes endurance racing so merciless.

I excuse myself for half an hour, retire to our tent, and try to lift my spirits in private. I stare up at the shifting, dappling shapes of leaves on the canvas and wonder if I still have the motivation for this. To pick myself up, to help the team pick itself up. To fight our way back into contention. Again. For the fourth consecutive year.

After a ten minute power nap, and having given myself a stern talking-to, I return to the awning. I'm out next, in just over an hour's time, and I'll need to focus everything I have into dragging us up the field. Alex and Lauren have taken a break; Marianne mans the radio for #22 while Jonny keeps Lee Hackett informed in #11. I go up into the cafe to plug in the phone, post a Facebook update and warm up a little. Brad and Becca are there with Brad's grandfather; we swap stories of woe. The Baron team had a major engine failure in the early hours which dropped them right to the back of the field. Their pace is good, but they have a long fight ahead of them. It's good to see some friendly faces. This race is such a rollercoaster - physical, mental and emotional - that its tough sometimes to focus on the job in hand.

Spirits restored, I neck half a pint of coffee and get changed for my stint. It's coming up to 11pm - ten hours into the race - and I'll be taking over from Michael in half an hour's time. On track, the news is good. Michael's usual blistering pace and pitstops for others have lifted us to seventh in class, just a lap down on the second placed team - the Northampton Maidens, who are having a stormer of a debut. For Corporate Chauffeurs #22, all is not lost; I can't wait to get back out there.

We're a tad short of bodies, though. Aside from Marianne, only Chris Hollywood, Jonny and I are present - and Jonny and I are both out next. After some discussion, Marianne takes over, gets Lee Jones's phone number from Alex and summons him to the awning. It's times like these that I'm most in awe of my wife, whose project management skills seem adaptable to almost any situation.

But a lesson is learned: Chris pipes up in his quietly spoken way to remind us that he's here and is perfectly capable of helping out with a pitstop. I learn later that Russell, Sophie and Lee Hackett were all on call if needed. For future reference: we must use all the resources at our disposal, know where everybody is at all times, and improve communications. With so many more people on the team this year, we got a little sloppy.

It's graveyard shift time. Coming up to 11.30pm, body clock locked in a fight with caffeine and adrenalin: this, for me, is the most magical time of the race. After a couple of false starts - during which I tell her off for changing her mind and potentially confusing the driver - Marianne calls the stop. Michael is in bang on cue - again, to an empty fuel bay. He delivers the kart, Chris starts the engines and I'm away; I get straight on the radio and try to make amends for snapping at my wife, by complimenting her and Chris on a perfect pitstop.

I discover later that we were luckier than we realised: Michael had lost comms completely towards the end, and pitted two laps after he spotted Marianne in the pitlane in her bright green raincoat - an educated guess, and a good one. He had been making the hand signal for a radio failure, but we were having trouble spotting him in the dark. We change procedure, adding in regular radio checks towards the end of each stint if the driver has been out of contact for a while.

I'm out under the floodlights, on a dry track beneath cloudy skies. The wind is blustery, tugging at the vents on my overalls as I crest the hill beside the pits and slingshot down towards Turn 2. The kart's balance has changed in the hours since I last drove it, the wear on the front tyres swinging the balance back towards neutral; I'm flying in the low temperatures, taking just the right amount of kerb through the white-knuckle right hander at Turn 2,  carrying good speed through the tricky right-left-right of the corkscrew and dispatching Standard Hire karts with ease into the Esses.

Throughout the race, driving standards in both hire classes have been exemplary, with good awareness from the Standard Hire drivers and tough but clean racing from the other Club Hires. Too many of the owner drivers, however, are downright shoddy - bullying slower karts out of the way and taking some crazy risks into the fast corners. I do my best not to get tangled up with them, use their slipstreams wherever I can.

I'm into a great rhythm, loving every second, Marianne on the radio telling me my pace is very strong - when the kart is suddenly reluctant to turn in to Turn 2. I understeer wide of the kerb, pick up the line on the exit, wondering if someone's dropped oil on the track... and the tarmac is suddenly awash. No warning speckle of rain on my visor; twenty metres short of the flat-out right-hander at the beginning of the corkscrew, I brake - but it's far too late. I passenger straight into the tyre wall at 40mph.

The broadside impact shoots me out of the seat and rattles my head like a pinball; luckily the barrier is close to the circuit here; as two other karts bounce off the tyre wall to my right, I slither across the strip of wet grass to the tarmac and scramble up the corkscrew. I encounter a traffic jam of owner karts struggling to gain traction up the short, steep hill; it would be comical if I wasn't mildly shocked.

On the back straight, I get on the radio to inform Marianne about the crash, check kart and driver for damage as best I can. Both engines are still running, nothing feels bent. My neck is numb down the right side, but otherwise I seem to have escaped injury in the biggest shunt I've had in years.

After the initial cloudburst the rain is steady. I'm not a particular wet weather specialist but I can hold my own; over the following laps I adapt reasonably quickly, passing other Club Hire karts and some of the owners. We spend a couple of laps under a full course yellow while another crash is cleared; on a circuit this big it can be difficult to keep a marshal in sight and know exactly when the race is back on. Again, Marianne proves her worth by bellowing 'GO, GO, GO!' in my ear as the green flag is waved. I hear later that Lee Jones, beside her on #11's radio, was doing exactly the same thing. On the approach to the corkscrew, I get the jump on the two karts in front of me and a precious few seconds are gained.

I sense that the pace is good; Marianne confirms it by telling me I've moved us up two places to fifth and am running a couple of seconds quicker than much of the Club Hire class. In which case Jonny Spencer in the Corporate Chauffeurs #11 kart must be right at the sharp end - he passes me and edges away at half a second a lap. I try and follow him through the gaps he creates - then Marianne spoils my fun by calling me into the pits. Crash notwithstanding it's been a good stint and I'm sad to see it end. The rain continues; I get on the radio to say that Lee Hollywood - out next - is going to love this. He is a wet weather specialist. And then some.

We're in the maintenance stop window - all hire karts must take a trip to the garage between midnight and 2am - so I visit the weighbridge (215kg including half a stone of water) and loosen the fuel cap on the way to the fuel bay. I've elected to attach my radio button to my lap belt rather than the steering wheel, which saves time at both ends of the stint and costs nothing on track. I ask the fuellers to start the engines and drive #22 straight through the gate instead of through the pitlane - more seconds saved. Lee Jones is in my ear telling me to aim for the flashing red light at the bottom of the hill - and I spot him immediately in the murk, standing outside the Club Hire garage holding an LED keyring. A tiny detail which is typical Lee. God knows what we'd do without him.

I drive in, switch off, jump out and the mechanics get to work. Lee Hollywood is suited up and ready; I tell him as much as I can about the conditions and where grip is to be found, before the mechanics finish their work and restart the kart. In moments, Lee is in and on his way.

I take off my helmet and breathe, let the adrenalin start to seep away, nod in satisfaction. For now, it's going well. I glance at my watch.

1.25am. We're barely past half distance.

Click here to read Part 1.

Click here to read Part 3.

British 24 Hours. Part 1 of 3: The Buildup

Click here to read Part 2.

Click here to read Part 3.

Friday 15 August

"Lee Jones isn't here yet. Lee Hackett left his helmet at home and had to go back for it. Russell is stuck on the M1. And nobody knows where Jonny is..."

It's midday on Friday, 24 hours before the start of the biggest race of the year. And on the face of it, the Corporate Chauffeurs team's weekend isn't off to the greatest of starts. Half of the drivers - the entire crew of the #11 kart, in fact - are absent. Captain Alex Vangeen is looking a touch strained. Our slice of the Teesside pitwall already looks like Glastonbury on clearup day. And the weather is turning darker by the minute.

But as I focus on fitting the radio headset cabling into my race helmet, I feel calmer than I have in weeks. We're here. The others will be here soon. Lee Hollywood's giant blue awning is up and secured; on the grassy bank behind the paddock, Marianne is putting the finishing touches to the Duff tent. We have a home for the weekend; as the minutes pass, the team begins to take shape and a semblance of order appears. In my fourth appearance at this huge event, I've learned to accept that Friday morning is mayhem. All will, soon, be well.

1pm. Suited, booted and helmeted, I cast off all concerns over logistics and turn my thoughts to rediscovering this monster of a circuit. As I run through my radio checks, Lee Hollywood points out that I'll be the first member of the team to turn a wheel. I hope it's a good omen.

As usual, the standard hire kart isn't a patch on the freshly fettled Club Hire kart we'll be racing tomorrow. But I don't care. The new radios - acquired at great cost and stress by Alex when our usual supplier let us down - are great, with much better sound quality than the usual items. I can understand Marianne and - crucially - make myself understood. Alex and I run through a radio failure pitstop test and fix an agreed position to show the pit board. My seat insert and rib protector are comfortable. And despite a typically tardy kart, the Teesside tingle is present and correct. I'm grinning all the way through the flat-out chicane in front of the pits, sucking in a breath over the sledgehammer kerbs at Turn 2, shaking my head as a pair of owner drivers flash past with inches to spare into the Esses. 

Feels like home. And it's good to be back.

I pit after forty minutes and hand over to Lee Hollywood, who spends his allocated twenty minutes grumbling over the radio about the state of the kart. But the gear is working perfectly and like last year he's comfortable using my seat insert. So far we've only had one technical hitch: Michael Weddell's radio microphone refuses to work: he can hear us, but can't reply. ("Could be a blessing in disguise..." a wag is heard to say.) We work on a series of colourful hand signals to get around the problem.

By the time I return to the awning, it's transformed: Russell Endean, his girlfriend Sophie and Lee Jones (and family) have all arrived. Sophie has already thrown herself in, helping Alex's wife Lauren and my wife Marianne stow the ever-growing piles of kit bags and bring order to the chaos. I finally meet Lee Jones's very glamorous wife Donna (she DOES exist) and his son and daughter. Jonny Spencer has arrived too, with grandfather John in tow.

Meanwhile, familiar faces from other teams are beginning to appear: Ryan Smith (and father Neil), Connor Marsh and parents, Geoff and Ed White, David Hird, Ben Allward and Mike Kettlewell - who captains the Squadra Abarth team, one of our likely challengers this weekend. Brad Philpot - founder of the BRKC which unites us all and therefore the reason I'm here - is hereabouts with his girlfriend Becca. They've already made our awning their second home. Which is exactly how it should be.

Around us the paddock is teeming as 68 teams and the better part of a thousand drivers, supporters, circuit staff and hangers-on prepare for the huge challenge that awaits us all. Virtually the entire pitwall - all 200-plus metres of it - is lined with team awnings. Behind the main circuit buildings, every inch of spare tarmac is covered with motorhomes, team trucks and marquees. Karts lie in pieces or up on stands, mechanics working feverishly; in hospitality tents, kettles and pots are already bubbling. The PA system booms with edicts from Race Control. And overlaying the noise and the chatter is the chesty roar of four-stroke kart engines. Nearly a full day before the race starts, but already you can taste the anticipation.

Out on track, Alex and Lee Jones are dialling themselves in while Michael's blagged a run in a kart owned by friend Graham Nairn, who runs the Raceland circuit near Edinburgh. Like most owner teams they use a practice chassis on Friday to save the race kart; nevertheless there's some consternation when Michael puts two wheels on the grass coming out of the Esses and pirouettes into the tyres. No harm done to kart or driver though: we give him ten points for style and refuse to let him live it down.

By four o'clock, Marianne and I and the Hollywoods are done for the day; we leave the others to finish their practice runs and head back to try and convince the manager of the Beefeater beside our hotel to reserve a table for 14 on a Friday night... Marianne's eyelashes seal the deal.

At dinner, there's a huge cheer for Lee Hackett, who made it - complete with helmet - after a mammoth ten hour journey. As I tuck into a rather good burger - the food's taken a turn for the better this year - the atmosphere around the table is crackling. We've been waiting all summer for this.

As usual in recent years, sleep comes easily for me. Tomorrow is a huge day, but today has been tiring and every minute of rest will count for the next 36 hours.

And, dare I say it, we're as ready as we can be.

Saturday 16 August

Race day dawns sunny. I never thought I'd write that about a weekend at Teesside.

By 8am we're on the circuit infield where the fleets of hire karts are parked. Kart selection time is a bunfight: over a hundred drivers crowd the patch of tarmac, trying to pick the best for their team. Without the luxury of testing it's an educated guess. But after our cracked chassis debacle last year Alex, Lee Hollywood and I are careful to check the underside of each candidate. After much discussion we make a decision; the #11 crew have also picked theirs and we get to work attaching the smart Corporate Chauffeurs/Mount UK branded Nassau panels. Along with the logos and race number, each has our names printed down the centre; I've never competed in anything emblazoned with my name and am thoroughly overexcited at the prospect.

Jonny and Lee Hackett have brought natty suede-rimmed steering wheels to replace the standard items, and lap timers. With the 8.30am driver briefing rapidly approaching there's no sign of them; after a stressful five minutes I learn that there's no rush: the schedule has been pushed back an hour, just like last year. This year it's down to a paperwork mixup instead of the weather; either way it's a relief. That's three years in four that we've started at 1pm: I think the gods are trying to tell us something.

As the others get to work fitting the steering wheels with Chris Hollywood's help, I realise that my wife is AWOL. It turns out that the lap timer destined for our kart is sans battery; she's on a Magical Mystery Tour of Middlesbrough trying to find one. The lap timer isn't essential, and I hope she's not tearing her hair out over it.

At 9.30 we crowd around the main building for the drivers' briefing which is, as always, refreshingly succinct given the scale of the event: it's assumed that we know what we're doing. Along with the usual flag procedures we're asked to take particular care over the pitlane speed limit, and to show respect to other classes on track. The last point will come back to haunt me.

And suddenly it's 9.59, the PA is blaring, engines are starting, and practice is underway. In a change this year, we have an hour of free practice followed by three 20 minute qualifying sessions - one for Standard Hire, one for Club Hire and one for the owners - in place of the two hour free-for-all of previous years. It's a sensible change, but it only gives us an hour to diagnose and fix any problems with our kart.

As the most mechanically literate of our foursome, Lee Hollywood has the honour of putting the first laps under #22's wheels; Lee Jones is out first in #11. #22 is back in the pits within minutes, Lee complaining that the chassis is slightly bent - not at all unusual in a hire kart - which makes it a little more eager to turn left than right. The engines are so-so. Two different Teesside mechanics take it out to test; after a tyre pressure check and an adjustment to the idle speed on the left engine, we're essentially told to get on with it. We could insist on a kart change but there's no guarantee of an improvement: with so little time, better the Devil we know.

As Lee exits the pits again for a final run I'm suited up and ready to go; I hear him muttering over the radio.
"This is a joke..."

Half of our practice hour is already gone when Lee rolls back into the pits and hands over to me. Over the radio, Alex instructs me to do five sighter laps and hand over to Michael. As I roll out in #22 for the first time, I'm expecting a revelation compared to the slow practice kart I drove yesterday. But it doesn't come; within a lap I'm worried. The kart feels sluggish in a straight line; top speed is fine but it's labouring out of the slower corners. And the handling is very pointy: the nose darts into every apex without a hint of understeer which is good - but the rear can't keep up. I suffer from snap oversteer into the hairpin and the corkscrew, sapping momentum and contributing to the lack of speed down the long straights which follow.

It's the antithesis of the balance I'm used to in karts; there's no time to dial myself in before I have to hand the kart over. I'm now seriously worried about the kart and my ability to extract speed from it - but there's nothing to be done. The locomotive is rolling, and we can't get off now.

Lee Hollywood was originally slated to do qualifying and the race start. But since he isn't overjoyed with the kart either, we swap Michael in - he's easily the quickest of us out of the box. I'm dimly aware that #11 is struggling for pace in practice, languishing in the midfield - but currently my focus is on our half of the team.

Qualifying. I take the radio and tell Michael to keep circulating until I call him in: we want to do as few laps as possible to save the machinery for the race. The new system, with separate sessions for each class, is working well, the drivers enjoying the lack of traffic as they try to bang in a quick one.

After fifteen of the twenty minutes, Michael lies second in class with a 1.20.2. He's not going any quicker, so I call it - just as he's bumped down to third. No matter. It's a solid start, and clearly there is fundamental pace in our kart. Which can't, sadly, be said for #11. They're languishing in 16th on a 1.21 flat - a full eight tenths of a second slower than us. Their engines aren't pulling well, and already they face a fight to make the top ten in the race.

As the circuit falls quiet, I'm reunited with Marianne, who has succeeded in her battery quest; Lee Hackett is fitting his lap timer to our kart. For the first time since 7am, we have a chance to draw breath, take on fluids, bolt a granola bar or two, and wait. At 12.30, the grid begins to form in the usual way: the karts lined up side by side facing across the track. I take pictures, look over the kart again, pose for photographs. Try to savour the moment I've been working towards for six months.

The all-woman Northampton Maidens team - which includes BRKC regular Rhianna Purcocks - has caught the eye by qualifying fourth for their first British 24 Hours, right behind us. I manage a brief chat with team captain Stephanie Walters - whom I know by reputation - and one or two of the others, and come away with an impression of steely determination. Debutants they may be, but this is not a team to underestimate.

Suddenly the minutes are ticking away, the engines starting; we line the barriers in our hundreds as the drivers take their places across from their karts, ready to sprint over when the flag drops. Some look anxious, hopping from foot to foot; if Michael is nervous he shows no sign of it. Alex holds the kart in position. The rest of us hold our breath as on the circuit infield, the start marshal raises the 30 SECOND board. As the seconds count down I shut my eyes for a moment and offer up a prayer.

Please let this be our year.

Click here to read Part 2.

Click here to read Part 3.

British 24 Hours 2014. Teesside, 15-17 August. Preview.

This is why I go racing.

For 51 weeks of the year, every training session, every running mile, every precious moment of karting seat time boils down to this. There are kart races, and then there is the British 24 Hours. For scale, spirit and sense of occasion, nothing in endurance karting comes close.

Every August, 70 top teams and 300 drivers flock from across Europe and beyond to duke it out over a day and a night on the longest, fastest kart circuit on Planet Earth. If the weather is dry, the winners will lap its gargantuan 1.3 mile length over a thousand times at an average speed of more than 60mph.

Think Plymouth to Inverness and back. No power steering, no seatbelts, no windscreen, no sleep. If there's a sterner test of stamina, teamwork and driving skill I've yet to experience it. And if there are bigger thrills to be had with your clothes on, I've yet to discover them.

The race is the blue riband event of the European Prokart Endurance Championship, a ten round series for owner driver teams. It will feature four classes - effectively four races in one. The big-money owner teams bring their own karts, mechanics and truckloads of support gear. Each of these teams competes in one of two classes with slightly different technical rules.

The other two classes are for hire karts which are supplied and maintained by the circuit. We'll be competing in the Club Hire class, the faster of the two. In 2014 ours is the most popular class of all, with over 20 teams entered.

In previous years good causes have abounded, with various initiatives and teams raising thousands for a number of charities; 2014 continues the theme. The two Kartforce teams of wounded veterans make a welcome return and again, the challenge they face makes ours look like a stroll to the shops.

Our longtime sponsors Corporate Chauffeurs have generously stepped up their support this year: two karts will run under their banner. Kart #11 will be driven by British 24 Hour regulars Lee Jones and Jonny Spencer with newcomers Russell Endean and Lee Hackett. Be not fooled by the newbie status, however - Russell and Lee H are multiple champions in other categories and bring a wealth of talent to their first 24 hour race.

Kart #22 will feature three quarters of last year's lineup and one defector: team captain Alex Vangeen will be joined by Lee Hollywood, Michael Weddell and myself. We're delighted to have lured Michael from the Squadra Abarth team - he proved his worth by helping them to a podium finish and claiming the fastest lap in class last year. Lee returns for a second campaign with us and is simply one of the finest drivers I have ever seen. In our fourth British 24 Hours together, Alex and I are approaching hardened veteran status. We bring more dogged determination than raw talent, but we know how to get the job done.

We will, as ever, be ably supported from the pitwall by Marianne Duff and Lauren Vangeen. Backed up by an enthusiastic (and long-suffering) crew of loved ones, they'll man the radios, look after the drivers and keep the team on its feet through a long, tough weekend.

With the hours counting down and packing underway, I'm offering up my usual prayer for Fate to smile on us. Come what may, the Corporate Chauffeurs team will approach the weekend with commitment and a sense of humour. But we want to stand on that podium. And I'll wager that no team will work harder for it.

Testing for the British 24 Hours starts on Friday 15 August. The race starts at midday on Saturday 16 August. Facebook and Twitter will be buzzing with regular updates and pictures throughout the weekend. The hashtag for both will be #B24. As always, any and all remote support will be much appreciated.

To everyone competing this weekend: good luck, and stay safe.

Game on, folks...

Click here to read the race report.

My novels

• Second Split
• The Art of Living Dangerously

BRKC 2014, day two. 19 January 2014

(Read the preview of BRKC 2014.)
(Read the race report from Day One of BRKC 2014.)

Every older sibling has a wicked streak. So, back on Wednesday when the heats for BRKC 2014 were drawn, I was tempted to tell him then. But I elected not to. He'd know soon enough.

It's 8.30am on Day Two. Jonathan, my brother, has been drawn for Heat 13. The first heat. The Death Heat. The entry list includes Boutens (R), Philpot, Endean, Zuercher... and those are just the headlines.

By Saturday evening the full significance of those names had hit home; he's looking a little green around the gills this morning. But to his great credit, his first concern is for his fellow competitors. Several are serious championship contenders; anxious not to impede them in qualifying, he seeks out each in turn and warns them to give him plenty of space if they find themselves exiting the pits behind him. Great sportsmanship.

I join commentator James Auld in the VIP box and predictably have the microphone thrust under my nose. As they roll out of the pits to get Day Two underway, Jonathan is the topic of conversation; I manage to turn Evil Big Brother off and say some nice things.

Three minutes later, he lines up seventh, having outqualified Tyler Mays and gained two places from a no-show and a kart substitution: Ruben Boutens has elected to change karts, but under BRKC rules must start from the back. It's a risky move, and also means that Jonathan has a former World Champion starting behind him.

As the marshal waves them away for the rolling start, I hope he'll put up a fight. And so he does - but inevitably Ruben is soon past, streaking through to an eventual second place behind the hugely impressive Russell Endean. Even Brad can only manage third - ahead of Ryan Smith, who has done very well to get amongst the serious heavy-hitters and beat local expert Crispin Zuercher.

Jonathan brings up the rear, but keeps the field in sight and again, does a creditable job with minimal experience against world-class competition. He ends his weekend thoroughly satisfied, having achieved his goal of not finishing last and enjoying himself on track. 

And I'll take this opportunity to thank the BRKC regulars - drivers and supporters alike - for making him feel so welcome. He was understandably nervous about taking part, but the experience has rekindled his karting passion and earned me some much-needed brownie points.

After a nailbiting start, the excitement just keeps ratcheting up, as Annelien Boutens puts the unloved number 10 kart on pole position for heat 14. It's been improved since yesterday by the tireless Formula Fast mechanics, but is still a few tenths away from the best. Annelien slips to third in the race, but it's an impressive save in what could have been a disastrous heat. She's beaten by Ed 'Lightning' White and Michael Weddell - who is having a storming weekend considering he wasn't on the entry list this time last week.

As I start to turn inward, preparing for my third heat, the next two races are a bit of a blur. I'm pleased to see Connor Marsh and Alex Vangeen top heat 15, especially after Alex's nightmare end to day 1. They're ahead of the mightily talented Sam Spinnael. After a poor (by his standards) sixth place in his first heat, Sam has notched up a win and a third place; business as usual.

Today, the now-familiar pitlane routine of drawing kart numbers (via a numbered ping-pong ball from a helmet sack, no sniggering at the back) is comforting somehow. The cement mixer in my belly seems to have taken the day off; as I stand on the scales holding my 12.5kg of ballast, I'm so calm I start to worry about being too calm.

I chat to Luke Hornsby - whom I know by reputation but haven't met before - and survey the other opposition. There are some fast people about, as always: no easy heats this weekend. I've drawn kart 9, which has just won the previous heat in the hands of local specialist Lewis Manley. A good omen, I hope - though Lewis Manley could probably win on a unicycle around here.

Helmet on, engage tunnel vision, and away we go. The circuit feels very slippery; I put in what feels like a slightly lairy lap, and am pleasantly surprised to line up fourth, around three tenths away from the pole time. As we've seen all weekend, subtle changes in temperature have a marked effect on laptimes: nobody has broken into the 33 second bracket.

Ted Monfils is on pole, followed by my new friend Luke and James Martin. As we get underway I'm still eerily calm - unlike James, who is looking a little tentative. Two laps in, his kart snaps sideways into the corkscrew; I get alongside, he gives me just enough room... there's a light tap on my left bargeboard, but I'm through into third. Life is looking up.

While James and I have been squabbling, Luke and Ted have opened up a gap. I keep them in sight, but manage only to spectate on their battle for the lead. The circuit's not getting any grippier, and I'm having to work harder than I'd like to keep the kart's front and rear tyres in harmony. Ted takes the flag by a kart length from Luke; I'm six seconds back and more than happy to bag another third place. That should be enough to book me a semi-final spot, but there's one more heat to come.

Back in the pits, controversy is rearing its head: someone has managed to drop a 5kg weight onto the glass scales. Amazingly, they're intact - but have thrown a strop and refuse to read accurately. A replacement has been found, but it reads a couple of kilos lower than the original set - meaning that we could potentially find ourselves classed underweight. But allowances are made, and Ted, Luke and I are declared legal.

My wife Marianne has put in an appearance for the first time this weekend, arriving just before my heat. It's great to have her here, and I'm convinced she brings me luck. I join her and two other karting widows - Alex's wife Lauren and Brad's other half Becca - and switch off the racing half of my brain for an hour. I realise that last time I saw Becca was at a windswept circuit near Edinburgh last May. Too long; it is, as always, lovely to catch up with her.

And while we're on the subject of loved ones, let's hear it for the parents. I've long admired the likes of Geoff White, Anthony Mays, Neil and Diane Smith, Lawrence Hackett, the Marshes, the Weddells, a half-dozen others - for their dedication and their contribution. Aside from the hours and money they put in, they suffer the strain of competition every bit as much as their offspring. They're as much a part of the BRKC as we are.

It's a pleasure, also, to chat to a couple of new faces: a lady whose name I missed at the time, but who will always be 'Jenson Button's Mum' on account of her son's replica helmet. Jo Healey, I think (please correct me if I'm wrong). Earlier, one of the international parents was so complimentary about my Day One scribblings that my day was made before I'd turned a wheel.

1.30pm. Actual sunlight is streaming through the open shutters; for the first time all weekend, it almost feels warm. And, with faces stuffed and hot drinks gulped, it's time for the final two chapters of BRKC 2014.

The semi-final lists are posted, and I'm comfortably in. For me, that's mission accomplished; anything else is a bonus. The semi-final is effectively a fourth heat, with the four scores added together. Even if I win, I won't make the final, but I'm delighted to have another race on this tricky, technical circuit against such an incredible field of drivers.

Marianne and I watch the first semi-final from the VIP area, with James booming over the microphone beside us. It's one of the most dramatic races on a weekend of drama; Ed White holds off Brad, while Michael Weddell beats the great Ruben Boutens to third place; all four of them score enough points to go wheel-to-wheel again in the final. It's both entertaining and disquieting to see Alex and Kam Ho - quality drivers both - squabbling over ninth place. I'm going to battle to scrape myself away from the tail end of this one.

By the time the second semi-final finishes - Anwar chasing home Lewis Manley - I'm focusing inward, trying to concentrate everything I've learned in my limited experience of indoor karting. I've little hope of fighting near the sharp end, but have every intention of ending on a high.

And that's exactly what I do. Eighth on the grid is perhaps a place lower than I could have been; the kart is fine, and I'm a little too careful under braking for the hairpin. That aside, I turn in the best race of my weekend, quicker, more precise and more consistent than I've ever been here. It's processional, but incredibly intense; I bring up the rear of a four kart chain, chasing the Titan Motorsports-branded helmet of Andy O'neill. Fifth-placed Russell Endean is tantalisingly within sight less than three seconds up the road. But nobody cracks, and I bring it home eighth.

In the process, I set my fastest lap ever around here (33.442), which will put me 27th on the laptime leaderboard. In the final reckoning, I am classed 24th out of 60 in BRKC 2014. I have given my best and am happy with that.

As ever in an event like this, there are a few familiar names in unlikely places on the leaderboard. Sean Brierley has been searingly fast all weekend and got off to a brilliant start, but a ropey third heat and a premature pitstop in his semi-final have consigned him to the lower reaches of the top 20.

Having been drawn in two of the toughest heats on a weekend of tough heats, Ryan Smith has driven impeccably. But his nightmare second heat - baulked in qualifying by a slower driver, then stuck behind Junior World Champion Jake Campbell-Mills for the entire race - has consigned him to 33rd overall. Just ahead of him is Tyler Mays, who put in a storming drive to second in his first heat, but was dogged by bad luck after that.

Potential finalist Sam Spinnael has had a mixed time - his frontrunning speed blotted by a black flag in his semi-final. He finishes 21st overall.

At the other end of the scale, Connor Marsh - always quick, often unlucky - has sailed through the weekend. His win and second place from four races puts him a superb 11th overall, narrowly missing out on the coveted final.

And then there were ten.

Bradley Philpot, Russell Endean, Michael Weddell, Annelien Boutens, Ruben Boutens, Ted Monfils, Anwar Beroual Smith, Lewis Manley, Ed White and Crispin Zuercher.

They will qualify in Superpole format: each driver does a single flying lap on their own, in the same kart. No pressure... it's rare that I'd rather be spectating, but this time I'm quite happy to sip tea on the VIP gantry and watch the action unfold.

As Michael gets underway I'm fully appreciating the recording wizardry for the first time this weekend. The live feed which is streaming over the Web is shown on a screen beside James, and I'm hugely impressed at the professional quality produced by multiple cameras all around the circuit. A DVD of the event will be produced soon, and I look forward to that.

Michael is disappointed with his time, shaking his head as he passes under the timing screen on the back straight. He pits and hands the kart to Annelien, who cements her reputation as a qualifying specialist with a sublime lap - a full half-second faster than Michael. And try as they might, nobody can match it. Crispin gets closest, third (Anwar) to eighth (Russell) is covered by seven hundredths of a second. But BRKC 2014's only female driver will start the final from pole position. Lauren and Becca - sharing the VIP gantry with James and I - are beside themselves with excitement.

To begin with, it looks as if she might run away with it as the others squabble over position behind her - Anwar losing several places early on, Ed making a couple, Brad unable to make much of an impression in what looks like a difficult kart, Weddell and Monfils bringing up the rear... but as drivers start to pit, Ruben Boutens begins to wind it up. With half of the 30 minutes gone, he's taking a couple of tenths per lap out of his sister's lead. She responds, but he's relentless; we're holding our breath as he breaks the 33 second barrier and just keeps going faster and faster. It seems inevitable that he'll find a way past and when he does - with a millimetre-perfect move into the hairpin - it caps off a supreme display of precision from both of them.

Ruben takes the flag, Annelien makes it a Boutens one-two, and Lewis Manley holds off Ed White for the final podium position. Crispin is an excellent fifth followed by Anwar, Brad, Russell, Ted and Michael. We're sad to see it end, but I'm not sure anyone in the building could have taken much more.

We gather on the viewing gantry as James orchestrates the presentation down on the circuit, cheer Ruben, Annelien and Lewis onto the podium - Lewis needing some coaching on how to open a bottle of bubbly - before reluctantly saying our goodbyes. I've never seen spirits so high at the end of a karting event, and with good reason. We've all had a weekend to remember, and then some.

And that's it. Fat Lady sings.

I'm sure I speak for everyone when I say that Ollie and all the staff at Formula Fast deserve a medal. And probably a few extra hours of sleep. We really appreciated the huge amount of work that went into organising and running such a complex event so efficiently. The effort that went into keeping the karts as equal as possible - testing late into the night on Friday and Saturday - was hugely impressive and (despite the odd moan) deeply appreciated. No other venue we've visited has ever worked so hard for us. I've certainly never been to a friendlier kart circuit - from front desk to pitlane, every single member of staff was a pleasure to deal with.

James Auld is a legend and I'll not hear a word to the contrary. His commentary added a veneer of excitement and occasion - and information - that made BRKC 2014 the great spectacle it was.

Having seen the odd snippet of the footage Darren Cook and his team have produced, I can't wait to see the finished article. We've immortalised every BRKC event in video and photographs, but this is a whole new league.

And once again, Brad seems to have pulled off the impossible (with Becca's help) - he's made the BRKC even better.

Downside? We have to wait a whole year before we can do it all again!

For final results and videos, visit www.brkc.net.

(Read the preview of BRKC 2014.)
(Read the race report from Day One of BRKC 2014.)

BRKC 2014, day one. 18 January 2014

(Read the preview of BRKC 2014.)
(Read the race report from Day Two of BRKC 2014.)

It’s dawn on a chilly Saturday in the depths of Milton Keynes. Most sensible people are still in bed contemplating the backs of their eyelids.

But not the racers. They, and the long-suffering souls that love them, have been up for hours.

In the huge converted warehouse which hosts the BRKC, over a hundred people fill the viewing gantry. There's almost no movement, no chatter beneath the boom of the Tannoy.

Down on the circuit, BRKC founder Bradley Philpot is orchestrating the kart draw for the opening heat. As familiar faces come forward – Sean Brierley, Alex Vangeen, Michael Weddell, Russell Endean – I’m waiting for a heckle from the silent spectators above. I’m tempted to break the silence, to shout something facetious. But I don’t. After months of anticipation, the tension ahead of BRKC 2014’s opening qualifying session is palpable.

As the karts take to the circuit, we crowd the railings, drivers and supporters alike anxious for a first sign of how this is going to play out. Will the local specialists prevail? Will the BRKC old guard get a look in? Will the international contingent show us Brits how it should be done?

By midway through heat one, a pattern is emerging. Qualifying, it’s clear, is everything here: passing cleanly is exceptionally difficult. Russell Endean, though not the quickest man on track, holds the lead having qualified on pole; behind him, Sean and Tyler Mays can’t find a way by. It’s gripping stuff, and Tyler pulls a great move on Sean late in the race, but Russell, typically calm under pressure, hangs on for a superb win.

As the morning draws on and the whole structure vibrates to the roar of four-stroke engines, overlaid with the excitable tones of James Auld, some interesting names top the leaderboard. BRKC and EKL regular (and youngest competitor) Ed White looked fearsomely quick in Friday practice, and has continued that form today. He wins his first heat easily, beating reigning Women’s World Champion Annelien Boutens and the great Bradley Philpot in the process - and setting a scorching 32.9 second lap. It will stand as the fastest lap of the day.

I’ve convinced my brother Jonathan to come out of karting exile and throw himself to the lions this weekend; we’re in heats 5 and 6. As he starts the countdown to his BRKC debut I’m watching from the gantry with fingers crossed. Short of experience and carrying a significant weight penalty, he seeks only to avoid disgracing himself.

And he acquits himself very well. Expecting to finish last, he manages a 9th place, sets solid, consistent laptimes and looks confident on track. Most importantly, he's enjoying himself, which is a huge relief. I'd never had heard the last of it otherwise...

My turn, and the usual butterflies in my stomach seem to have been replaced by a cement mixer. It's a long time since I was this nervous before a race. The impressive video rig - multiple cameras, swinging tripod on the infield, live streaming over the Web - is both adding to the sense of occasion and deepening my angst.

With good reason... by midway through my qualifying lap I sense that all is not well with my kart. It feels sluggish and unwieldy compared to the machines I practised in last night. I line up a disappointed seventh out of ten, hoping that consistency will gain me positions in the race.

Ten minutes later, as I hold off Liam Brierley by the skin of my teeth - after a breathless half a lap side-by-side - I'm realising that just maintaining my grid position going to be a mighty challenge. Liam stays glued to my rear bumper, forcing me onto a defensive line over and over again; I've rarely been so relieved to see the chequered flag. Having told the mechanics that I think the kart is a dud - and watched superstar Jake Campbell-Mills struggle to a sixth place in it - Jonathan and I retire for lunch to lick our wounds.

Life's always better after an excellent burger, and we return in a more positive frame of mind as the second round of heats gets underway. It's gripping straight away, as Brad and Ed White resume their battle from earlier on. After a tooth-and-nail fight, it's Brad that edges it this time, after a problematic pitstop for Ed. Scottish BRKC regular Ryan Smith has also been unlucky; after a solid fifth place in his first heat, he's baulked in qualifying for the second, and lines up an unrepresentative eighth. Stuck in traffic throughout, he's unable to move forward, but is surprisingly philosophical afterwards. "Let's see what happens tomorrow..."

Jonathan's second heat runs much like the first for 32 of its 34 laps - until he accidentally lets the last-placed driver through while being lapped by the leaders. It's galling, but he's driven well again and improved his laptimes from earlier on.

As my race approaches, the cement mixer starts up again. I lean on the railings for a moment, try and pull myself together. Geoff White - father of warp-fast Ed - smiles in sympathy. "This isn't really you, is it? This indoors business?"

I'm beginning to think not.

After such a mediocre start I'm hardly brimming with confidence as I roll out to qualify for heat 11, but the kart feels much better and I turn in what feels like a solid lap. As we come to a stop on the back straight, I'm amazed to see my name in second place. I've managed a 33.9 - a full four tenths of a second faster than I managed at any point in Bogey Kart 10 in my first heat.

The race is a little less stellar - I tighten up at the start, lose a place to Andy O'Neill and accidentally put Kam Ho in the wall at the exit of the corkscrew. He'd got his nose alongside; I took the normal line, turned in and suddenly found myself heading sideways towards Buckingham. Apparently there was much gasping on the viewing gantry at this point - our illustrious commentator fanning the flames, I expect. And rightly so.

But the stewards decide (correctly) that I hadn't realised Kam was there, and I escape a penalty. He manages to regain his fourth place and no harm is done; I apologise afterwards. The rest of my race passes smoothly, though I'm kept honest by Kam and Robin Kassam, a few seconds behind and matching me tenth for tenth. They're an ominous presence at the corner of my eye.

But I take the flag a happy - and extremely relieved - third; back in the pits I'm pleased to see a 33.508 lap against my name. Finally, some respectable pace.

With my day's racing over, I check the leaderboard, catch up with some of the regulars and keep half an eye on the final heat - which includes two of my British 24 Hours teammates, Alex Vangeen and Anwar Beroual Smith. A very late entry, Anwar looked all at sea in practice yesterday, but has got it all together when it matters; having finished third in his first heat, he qualifies on pole for his second - in the kart I've just vacated. But it all goes pearshaped. In the midst of an entertaining battle with Sam Spinnael, his engine fails. He's given a replacement kart which is visibly slower, and drops to fifth as Sam wins; Anwar is, predictably, less than amused.

Having finished an excellent fourth in his first heat, Alex has a nightmare end to the day, struggling for pace and tangling at the final corner. As he shakes his fist on track, his wife Lauren is watching from the infield; from thirty metres away I see her face fall thirty floors. Better luck tomorrow, I hope.

As Day One ends, it's clear that nobody is going to run away with this. The top of the leaderboard is a real mix of local specialists and BRKC regulars; for every Lewis Manley, Crispin Zuercher and Kim Enson, there's an Ed White, Russell Endean and Sean Brierley. Both the Boutens siblings and BRKC founder Brad have also had an excellent day.

Into the top twenty, there is also a mix of new and familiar names. Old hand Kam Ho is, by his own admission, surprised to be 15th; Michael Weddell and Connor Marsh are also thereabouts too.

I'm 27th. Could be better, could be a lot worse.

Sleep fast, folks. Tomorrow is going to be interesting...

(Read the preview of BRKC 2014.)
(Read the race report from Day Two of BRKC 2014.)

BRKC 2014. Formula Fast Milton Keynes, 17-19 January. Preview

(Read the race report from Day One of BRKC 2014.)
(Read the race report from Day Two of BRKC 2014.)

"It's the BRKC, Jim, but not as we know it..."

This is it then. A championship condensed, compressed, distilled. Sixty drivers, 22 races, three days, one winner.

Glittering prizes. A cash prize for the winner, free entry to the Kart World Championships and chandelier-sized trophies for the top three.

The indoor venue is, in many ways, ideal. Perhaps not as fast as we'd like. Driving the circuit will not get the juices pumping like Hereford or Whilton Mill would. The way Teesside does. But we'll be shielded from the worst of this sodden British winter. The timing and spectator facilities are superb. And the atmosphere, I suspect, will be like nothing we've experienced before.

The walls and roof will reflect every decibel back at the drivers and supporters, James Auld's commentary will push excitement past critical mass. The live broadcast will add a whole new audience, a new dimension. And when the helmets go on and it all goes quiet, it'll be a little harder than usual to shut it out, to focus on the job at hand.

But focus we must. This more than ever will be an exercise in precision, in consistency, in racecraft. The field is a mix of experienced locals and world-class visitors. The standard will be stratospheric, the margins tiny, the winner impossible to call.

But by Sunday evening, we will have our champion. And having triumphed against a field of this quality, they'll be amply qualified to take on the best in the world in Brazil.

Practice for the BRKC starts on Friday afternoon. The first race starts at 9am on Saturday. All 22 races will be streamed on Livestream - visit www.brkc.net for the link.

For Twitter and Facebook updates throughout the weekend, search #brkc2014.

And look out for a Day One blog on Saturday evening. A post-race wrapup will be posted on Sunday evening.

It's the calm before the storm. We prepare, we do what we can to control the butterflies, and we wait. The clock is ticking.

(Read the race report from Day One of BRKC 2014.)
(Read the race report from Day Two of BRKC 2014.)