The Red Bat Marathon 2024

Lee Greatrex blinked as the early morning sunlight pierced through the car window. The countryside whizzed past, a patchwork quilt of greens and golds, as he drove towards the ancient town of Stone in Staffordshire, England. He had done this journey countless times before, but today felt different. It was the day of his 50th birthday, and he was about to face his most challenging marathon yet.

The quiet hum of the car's engine provided a soothing backdrop to the pattern of his thoughts.

As he pulled into the gravel carpark, the stone marathon headquarters grew larger in his rear view mirror. It was an unassuming building, a relic of the town's storied past, now repurposed for the modern athletic endeavour.

A bustling crowd of participants and organisers had already gathered outside, their breaths misting in the cool air. The headquarters itself looked almost like a fortress, with tall, stoic stones standing guard against the march of time.

Lee felt his heart race in anticipation as he stepped out of the car. The chill bit at his skin, reminding him to stretch and warm up. As he did so, his eyes searched for the face of the man who had orchestrated this whole event - his friend and fellow nurse, Michael Beasley. He spotted Michael across the crowd, his bright smile a beacon of warmth in the cold morning. amidst the chilly morning.

The air was electric with the anticipation of the marathon's commencement. Runners of all ages and abilities stretched and chattered nervously, sharing stories of past races and personal bests. The smell of freshly brewed coffee mingled with the scent of dew-soaked grass and the faint hint of the nearby River Trent. The sound of laughter and the rustle of race numbers fluttering in the breeze created a symphony of excitement that reverberated through the historic town.

As the time for the race approached, Michael Beasley took the microphone, his voice booming over the speakers, announcing the final preparations and safety instructions. The crowd grew quiet, their eyes drawn to the starting line marked by a banner flapping in the wind. It was then that the unmistakable opening chords of "The Loneliness of the Long Distance Runner" by Iron Maiden filled the air, and the crowd erupted into cheers and applause. Lee's heart skipped a beat - his favourite band had been booked as a surprise to kickstart the race. He had been a devoted fan for over 40 years, and the unexpected presence of their music at this milestone event sent a wave of emotion over him.

The drummer's beat grew faster, the music swelling to a crescendo, and as the song reached its climax, a figure dressed as Eddie, Iron Maiden's iconic mascot, shot out of the headquarters door like a bullet from a gun. The crowd gasped as Eddie sprinted towards the starting line, holding a makeshift torch with the band's logo on it. The runners, including Lee, couldn't believe their eyes - it was like a scene from a rock concert had split into their quiet town. The mascot turned to face them, his expression a mix of challenge and mischief, and with a roar of laughter, tossed the torch into the air.

The moment it descended, the race was on. Adrenaline surged through Lee's veins like a river in flood. His legs, trained by years of pounding the pavement, responded instantly. He pushed off with a burst of speed, the music still pounding in his ears, his friends and family forming a blur of cheers and confetti around him. The cobblestone streets of Stone stretched out before him, lined with spectators clapping and shouting encouragement. He watched as Eddie, seemingly untethered by gravity, danced around the other runners, taunting them with his speed.

Lee felt his competitive spirit ignite. He was not going to let a mascot win this race, not on his birthday, not with everyone he cared about watching. His eyes narrowed, and he settled into a rhythm that ate away at the distance between them. The crowd's cheers grew louder as they noticed his pursuit, urging him on. His heart hammered in his chest, a tempo that matched the beat of his favourite Iron Maiden tunes.

The mascot, a surprisingly nimble Eddie, zigzagged through the runners, dodging and weaving with a grace that defied his bulky costume. The chase was on. Each step pounded the cobblestone like a drum solo, echoing through the narrow streets, as the runners pushed themselves to catch up. The race had transformed from a celebration into a battle of wills, with Eddie the mascot leading the charge.

Lee felt a grin spread across his face as he picked up speed. This was more than he had bargained for, but the thrill of the chase only served to invigorate him. The music still played, the bass line driving him forward, and he could almost feel the vibrations of the drums in his bones. The crowd's cheers grew into a crescendo, and he knew that he wasn't just running for himself anymore. He was running for all of them, for the child in each spectator who had once dreamed of .

Eddie's mascot costume bobbed up and down in the distance, the bulky figure moving with an agility that seemed impossible. The chase grew intense, the gap between them narrowing with every stride. Lee's mind was a blur of strategy and determination. He knew the streets of Stone like the back of his hand, every cobblestone and alleyway. Perhaps he could use that to his advantage. He ducked into a side street, hoping to cut Eddie off, his heart pounding like a bass drum in his chest.

The crowd grew sparse as they wove through the less travelled paths of the town, but their cheers still echoed around him. Each twist and turn brought a new challenge, the uneven ground testing his balance and the occasional tourist taking a surprise selfie adding to the surreal atmosphere. The music from the starting line grew faint, but Lee's soundtrack of Iron Maiden's greatest hits played on in his mind, pushing him to his limits. The chorus of "Run to the Hills" spurred him on as he emerged onto a straightaway, eyes locked on his target.

Eddie, the mascot, had no idea he was being pursued with such tenacity. He glided through the throng of runners like a ghost, the costume's bulk belying his speed. But Lee was relentless. With every step, he felt the decades of training and his deep love for the band fuel his determination. The mascot was a living embodiment of his youth, of his dreams, and there was no way he was letting it get away from him now. The chase grew more intense as they approached the halfway point, the mascot's lead fluctuating as they jockeyed for position.

Lee could feel the sweat trickling down his back, the cold air biting at his skin. His legs burned, but he didn't care. The sight of Eddie, a giant metal monster in the flesh, spurred him on. His friends, Michael, Indira, and Martin, caught wind of his pursuit and joined in, their laughter and cheers mixing with the distant sound of the music that had started to fade. They were a blur of colour and camaraderie, a human river flowing through the streets of Stone. The town had become their playground, the marathon a celebration of their shared passion for running and heavy metal.

.As they rounded the final corner, the finish line in sight, the crowd grew denser, their roars of approval louder. The sun had climbed higher in the sky, casting long shadows that danced alongside the runners. Eddie looked back over his shoulder, his plastic mask distorting his grin as if acknowledging the challenge. The four friends surged forward, their footsteps in unison, the beat of their hearts in sync with the music that had carried them this far. The mascot's lead was slipping, and the end was inevitable.

The finish line grew closer, the tension electric as the mascot's red and yellow costume grew larger. The crowd leaned in, eager to capture the moment with cameras and phones held high. The banner flapped in the wind and the words

"Happy 50th Birthday, Lee"

A blur of motion as the runners approached. Indira, Martin, and Michael matched Lee stride for stride, their eyes gleaming with the kind of pride that only comes from pushing one's limits alongside a cherished friend.

The mascot saw them coming and made a desperate bid for the finish, his oversized bat wings flapping wildly as he pumped his arms. But the friends were a united front, their collective energy a force to be reckoned with. The crowd's roar grew deafening, their cheers urging them on like a powerful wave. With a final, explosive effort, they broke through the barrier of sound and sight, crossing the line together in a tangle of limbs and laughter.

Eddie, the mascot, stumbled to a stop, panting heavily, his plastic eyes wide with shock. He looked down at the ground, then up at the four friends, their chests heaving with victory. The music faded, the world seeming to hold its breath, waiting for what would happen next. Then, in a moment of pure, unfiltered joy, the mascot reached up and pulled off his head, revealing the sweat-drenched face of Bruce Dickinson, underneath, the singer of Iron Maiden. The crowd erupted into thunderous applause, their cheers bouncing off the ancient stones that had borne silent witness to countless events throughout history.

Lee's legs buckled as reality collided with his wildest dreams. The iconic voice that had serenaded him through countless runs had been right there with him, pushing him to victory. He felt his friends' hands on his shoulders, their laughter and disbelief mirroring his own. The crowd surged forward, eager to snap a photo with the legendary singer, but Bruce held up a hand, a grin stretching across his face. "Not before we all cross the line together," he said, his voice a raspy growl that was unmistakably his own.

Lee looked over at Michael, who was beaming with pride. He couldn't believe what Michael had managed to pull off. The surprise was a gift beyond measure and one that would be talked about for years to come. The four friends turned as one, and with Bruce at their side, they approached the finish line once more. The crowd parted like the Red Sea, their camera flashes creating a strobe of light that danced around them.

The moment they broke the tape together, the crowd erupted. It was a scene of pure exultation, a snapshot of friendship and achievement that would be etched into their memories forever. The photo captured the essence of the event, with Eddie the mascot standing tall, his bat wings waving in defeat, as the runners held their arms aloft in victory. The image was a testament to the indomitable spirit that had brought them all together, a tapestry of sweat, determination, and the enduring power of music.

Lee's eyes searched the sea of faces, finding Michael's beaming with pride. He knew that without his friend's meticulous planning, this magical moment would never have been possible. The camaraderie that had grown over the years in the hospital corridors had spilt out onto the cobblestone streets, transcending the boundaries of their everyday lives and transforming into something epic. The bond between them was palpable, a silent symphony of shared experiences that resonated in every footstep they had taken together.

The headquarters of the Stone Master Marathoners was now a hive of activity, as the party began in earnest. The grand old building, which had once echoed with the footsteps of monks and the whispers of secrets long forgotten, now reverberated with the thunderous applause and the roars of the crowd. The band that had been the soundtrack to so many of Lee's runs had come alive before him, and the walls seemed to pulse with the beat of the music that had carried him through the years.

As Iron Maiden took the makeshift stage, a sea of faces looked up at them, a mix of awe and disbelief. The runners, still in their sweat-soaked gear, were transformed into fans once more, their legs still trembling from the exertion of the race. The band launched into "The Phantom of the Opera," and the room seemed to shrink around Lee as he found himself at the centre of a mosh pit of friends and well-wishers, each song resonating with a power that seemed to defy the very fabric of time. Lees family was beside themselves with joy for what Michael Beasley and the rest of stone master marathon had had pulled off on his birthday. Tracy Finley Tyler and all of Lees's family and best friend Philip Frid was so happy for Lee; their dad and husband and friend.

The air was thick with the scent of sweat and victory, the strobe lights playing across the ancient stones like shadows in a nightclub. Each note from Steve Harris' bass guitar seemed to resonate through the very bones of the building, setting the hearts of the audience alight with a passion that could have powered the entire town. Bruce Dickinson strutted and leaped across the stage, his powerful voice soaring through the room, the embodiment of the fiery spirit that had propelled them all through the marathon.

Lee found himself in the midst of a mosh pit that had formed organically around him, his friends and fellow runners bumping and jostling with the kind of camaraderie that could only be forged in the face of shared adversity. The floor vibrated with the stomping of feet, the air electric with the excitement of the live performance. The band played hit after hit, each song more anthemic than the last, and Lee found himself singing along, his voice hoarse from the effort of the race, but fueled by a newfound energy.

As the night grew darker, the music grew more intense. The band played "Running free," and the crowd roared in approval. The ancient stone walls of the headquarters seemed to hum with the energy of the performance, as if the very stones themselves were alive and celebrating alongside them. The strobe lights painted the room in a chaotic dance of shadow and light, the glow sticks that had been distributed earlier casting an eerie glow in the air that matched the tempo of the music.

The party was in full swing, with runners swapping stories of the race's highlights and congratulating each other on their accomplishments. The floor was sticky with spilled drinks and sweat, a testament to the passion and enthusiasm that had fuelled the marathon. The air was thick with laughter and the scent of BBQ wafting in from the outdoor grill, a stark contrast to the historic grandeur of the building.

Lee's heart was still racing from the thrill of the race and the shock of Bruce Dickinson's grand reveal. As the band launched into "iron maiden," he found himself in the eye of the storm, surrounded by friends and fans alike. They surged around him, a sea of bobbing heads and raised arms, the music a living entity that pulsed through them all. Each song played by Iron Maiden seemed to resonate with a deeper meaning, the lyrics echoing his own journey over the years.

The band's energy was infectious, and despite his exhaustion, Lee found himself drawn into the frenetic dance. Bruce's high notes soared above the din, cutting through the air like a knife, and the guitarists, Adrian, Janic and Dave, wove an intricate tapestry of sound that made the stones beneath their feet seem to shiver. The drummer, Nicko McBrain, hammered out a relentless rhythm that seemed to match the pounding in Lee's chest. The room was alive with the music, the very air charged with the electricity of the moment.

As the night went on, the party grew wilder. The runners had shed their shoes, their bare feet slapping against the cold stone floor. The music pounded in time with their hearts, a celebration of life and endurance. The walls of the headquarters seemed to pulse with the bass line, the ancient stones a silent witness to the revelry within. The band played on, each song a anthem to the spirit that had brought them all together.

Bruce Dickinson looked down at the crowd, his eyes finding Lee's. He winked, and with a flourish, announced a special birthday tribute. The opening chords of "Dream of Mirrors" filled the room, and the crowd roared. Lee felt a hand on his shoulder, and Michael leaned in, shouting over the music, "This one's for you!" The song was a declaration of their shared love for the band, a bond that had started in the hospital ward and culminated in this moment of pure, unadulterated joy.

The strobe lights danced across the stage, painting the band in a kaleidoscope of colors that reflected off the gleaming metal guitar picks and sweat-soaked faces. The walls of the headquarters, which had once held the whispers of monks in silent contemplation, now reverberated with the sound of a thousand voices singing in unison. Each note was a declaration of triumph over the trials of the race, each lyric a celebration of the human spirit that had brought them all to this place.

Lee watched, his heart swelling with pride and awe, as Michael took to the stage, the band pausing for a brief moment. His friend, the mastermind behind this unforgettable birthday surprise, held up a custom-made guitar with "Stone Marathon 50th Birthday" etched into its body. It was an axe worthy of a legend, and as Michael presented it to him with a flourish, the crowd erupted into a thunderous applause. Bruce Dickinson, his voice as powerful and resonant as ever, announced that it was now time for a very special gift, a tribute to the man of the hour.

The band launched into a powerful rendition of "The Trooper," their anthem to the indomitable spirit, and the crowd went wild. The guitar, gleaming under the strobe lights, was passed around the stage, each band member playing a few bars before finally handing it to Lee. He held it aloft like a trophy, feeling the weight of its significance. It was a symbol of his own endurance, a testament to the miles he had run and the friends who had run beside him. The music washed over him, the crowd's chanting of "Lee! Lee! Lee!" as much a part of the song as the pounding drums and screaming guitars.

The setlist grew longer, each song a love letter to the marathon's spirit. "Wasted Years" spoke to the time that had led him to this moment, "wildest Dreams " echoing the ticking clock of his race to the finish line. The room was a blur of flailing arms and raised voices, the energy was electric as they sang along to every lyric. The floor trembled beneath their feet, the ancient stones groaning with the weight of the celebration. It was a night of pure, unadulterated joy, a symphony of music and movement that would be etched into the very fabric of the town's storied past.

As the concert reached its crescendo, Bruce leaned down, the microphone held out to Lee. The crowd grew still, their eyes on him expectantly. He took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the moment settle upon him. The band played the opening chords of "Fear of the Dark," and the crowd erupted into song. He couldn't believe it; he was sharing the stage with his heroes, singing the words that had kept him going through countless miles. His voice cracked with emotion as he belted out the chorus, feeling every lyric resonate deep within his soul.

The night was a blur of music, laughter, and stories. The marathoners swapped tales of personal triumphs and tribulations, their shared experiences binding them together in a way that only those who had pushed themselves to such extremes could understand. The walls of the headquarters seemed to pulse with the collective energy of the room, each beat of the drum echoing in time with their hearts.

Lee couldn't wipe the smile from his face as he held his birthday axe, the guitar's strings resonating with the power chords that filled the air. The band played on, each song more exhilarating than the last, a testament to the strength and determination of the runners who had conquered the streets of Stone. His friends gathered around, their faces a kaleidoscope of emotions: disbelief, joy, and a fierce sense of pride.

The party grew wilder as the night progressed, with the runners forming a mosh pit before the stage. The ancient stone walls of the headquarters bore silent witness to the thrill of the music, the relentless beat of Nicko's drums. Bruce leaped into the crowd, his voice soaring above the epic music as the fans surged around him, lifting the great musician high above their heads in a frenzy of love for music, running and Lees friendship.

Lee clutched his new guitar to his chest, feeling the vibrations of the music resonate through his very core. The lyrics of "Fear of the Dark" took on a new meaning, his heart swelling with the power of the moment. This birthday was more than just a milestone; it was a declaration that age was but a number, that the fire within could never truly be extinguished.

As the final notes of the song faded away, the crowd's roars grew deafening. Bruce handed the microphone to Lee, gesturing for him to say a few words. The room grew quiet, the anticipation was beyond belief. He took a deep breath, the weight of the evening's events settling upon him, and stepped to the edge of the stage. His eyes searched the crowd, finding Michael's proud gaze, and he knew that this was the culmination of everything they had worked towards.

"Thank you, all of you, for making this the most incredible 50th birthday a man could ever wish for,"

Lee began, his voice carrying over the hushed anticipation.

"I am truly humbled by your support, your friendship, and the sheer joy you have brought to this historic town of Stone today." His words were met with a chorus of cheers, the energy of the room threatening to blow the roof off the ancient headquarters.

He nodded to Michael, whose face was flushed with excitement, "And to Michael Beasley, the great nurse, the greatest friend, and now, the most ingenious event organiser I know. This race, this party, this moment with Iron Maiden, it's all because of you. You've given me a gift that I will cherish for the rest of my life."

The crowd erupted into applause, and Michael, ever the humble hero, gave a bashful wave, his eyes shining with unshed tears.

Lee turned to the band, holding up his custom-made guitar like a toast.

"To Iron Maiden, the soundtrack to so many of our lives, for being a part of this unforgettable day. Your music has inspired me to run further, push harder, and never give up, and now, to have you here, playing just for us, is nothing short of a dream come true."

The band nodded in acknowledgment, the smiles on their faces a mirror of the joy that filled the room.

The party didn't end there. The night grew later, and the music grew louder, but the spirit of camaraderie never wavered. Runners from all walks of life danced together, their shared love for the marathon and heavy metal bridging any gaps between them. The floor was sticky with beer and sweat, a testament to the revelry that had taken place within the hallowed walls of the Stone Marathon headquarters.

Lee, his heart swelling with gratitude, made his way through the crowd, guitar slung over his shoulder, to thank everyone for making his 50th birthday so special. He hugged his wife, her eyes sparkling with pride, and whispered, "You're my rock, the reason I run." His two sons, who had watched the race in awe, clung to his legs, their youthful excitement a reminder of the fire that had ignited his own love for the sport. His sister, her husband, and his young nephew and niece all beamed up at him, their smiles a warm embrace that transcended the noise of the party.

He moved from table to table, sharing stories of the race, laughing at the antics of the Eddie Mascot, and expressing his deepest thanks. Each handshake, each embrace, was a testament to the community he had built through the years. His friends and colleagues from the hospital, former patients turned supporters, and even some of the local townsfolk who had cheered him on from the sidelines. It was a tapestry of connections, woven together by the shared love of running and the indomitable spirit of Iron Maiden.

So up the irons forever and something inside me says, I really was strong enough to run twenty six point two miles yeah yeah yeah!!!!