It wasn't wrong. The twisty, gravelly, bumpy, and sometimes unmade roads again created a magical but painful day. And this is the view of it from my bike.

One hundred miles is a long way even in a car, so when you consider the roads that the race takes you over it feels 50 percent longer than that. Every part of your body is tired and you're left with staring eyes that don't even have the energy to focus on anything but a distant object. This race drains you as a rider.

It will take up to a week for riders to recover from this race - and that's the ones lucky enough to finish.

Others had their race taken away from them in the blink of an eye before they even got to Oakham. This day in hell can make or break your day, or your dream, in one nasty corner or one unexpected pothole.

Riding for the East Midlands Development Agency Team (EMDA) I was hoping that lady luck was blowing me a kiss and I would get further than last year (i.e. not tear my hamstring.)

Sure enough, I guided myself through the chaos of the peloton to get to Oakham with my EMDA top intact. The crowd pushing up to the barrier was amazing and the noise was just incredible - I felt the atmosphere and it really did inspire me to carry on, especially when I heard my name being shouted out.

Riding in a bunch of 200 riders is dangerous. Every rider is trying to get into the top 20 riders and this is what pushes the pace so high. Shoulder to shoulder, some times with handlebars touching; you have to be so careful.

As a spectator you just see a blur of colour and sweaty men. In the bunch it is very different. I have to look out for all the dangers - someone riding into me, people breaking in front of me, potholes and things in the road that could, at 50-70kph, result in a career-ending crash and a lot of lost skin.

I also have to keep an eye out on who is attacking and trying to break away, whether they will escape the clutches of the peloton or not and whether I need to worry about it or not. Was there an EMDA teammate in the break? All this at the same time - it's like playing chess while driving and talking on your mobile phone at the same time (please don't do this: lots of the peloton crashed).

After Oakham, came the first sector of rough road and from then on it would not stop until I got to Melton High Street. I was entering Hell and would only make it if I played my cards right and had luck on my side.

A break had escaped the peloton and was gaining time on us. This was a good move with about 10 riders moving clear and all the big teams represented. Unfortunately I was unable to put my self in it. Because all the big teams were represented, the peloton was going to be closely guarded. If a rider dared to attack they would be chased down by one of the teams' other riders so that they didn't gain ground on the break away. I had a feeling that the winner of the race was going to come from this break away group.

Cycling is a very team orientated sport and the whole team of six riders will work towards one common goal: get one of the six across the line first. The other five will sacrifice everything, even finishing, to accomplish that team goal.

The peloton hurtled on, by no means slow at this point, as again the pace was being pushed high by the number of riders wanting to ride at the front. On the narrow sections only a car width wide you can not fit everyone and inevitably someone will crash either off into a hedge or, if unlucky, in the middle.

On such a narrow road, if you're too far back this could split the race and destroy your hopes. Everyone wants to push forward to the top 20 riders.

Soon we were entering Owston for the first time and it was amazing. I have raced in Belgium and France, Ireland and Holland and never have I been hit by such an excited packed audience - it created an atmosphere like no other. I can now see why this race is so popular with other riders. It made me proud to wear the EMDA jersey. Having people call out my name spurred me on (as well as deafened me.)

Owston also had the first unmade section of road. This was dangerous and unique. At times it was like cycling on ice and I'm sure I should have fallen off on many an occasion.

On the third entrance to Owston my legs were starting to fail me and my chest infection (that I'm still on antibiotics for) was starting to affect me. The heat and the constant hills were also starting to sap my strength. Although the hills are not particularly steep or long, it was the repetition of them, and the speed with which the bunch was attacking them, that was reducing the size of the bunch and slowly draining my body of energy.

My legs were filling up with lactic acid and every time the pace forced me out of the saddle I was in more pain. This is when my luck- so far in my favour- turned against me.

The next sector of un-made road was the famous Sommenburg. In Belgium, all the cobbled climbs are called burgs. There are some very famous ones that are legendary within cycling. Stories of these 'burgs' are told to young riders like Greek mythology to children.

Some of the most famous are called the Kobbleburg, Klousburg or the Pettersburg. This is where the name for the Sommenburg came from and it is gaining status with in the UK in a similar manner to the Belgium climbs.

As I hit the bottom of the climb I hit a pothole – hard.

I was unprepared and had my full weight on my handle bars, and with a loud creak my bars rotated round on me. With a sickening panic I thought I had snapped them. Luckily, I hadn't, but I had rotated them round to such an angle that I found it hard to change gear or break.

In the wrong gear, I had to climb the 'burg', weaving my way through riders with snapped chains and punctures. I got over the top but had lost a lot of ground and found myself the wrong side of a split in the bunch. The Sommenburg had claimed another victim. I just wished it hadn't been me.

I endeavoured to carry on and was riding well in the group that had been formed from riders whose legs and bikes had suffered from the tough roads. Both complaints were applicable to me.

Riding on the rough roads takes a particular riding style: fast. The faster you go the more stable you are. But this takes a lot of confidence to do and also requires you to push a very big gear – meaning that you turn your legs slowly. Doing this aids stability but means that you have to put a lot of power through the peddles, which is very draining.

After so many rough sections of road, my legs, and a lot of other people's, were very fatigued.

The remains of the peloton, now only 30 riders or so, pushed open a gap and soon we were in a group on our own, but with no service vehicles around us to help if we had a technical issue.

We were left to ride as fast as we could to the finish. This is when I punctured my rear wheel and quickly began to lose air. This marked a cruel twist to my Classic adventure, but I rode on as far as I could in the hope that someone might lend me a rear wheel.

But as I reached the 25km to go banner, my front tyre went down suddenly. With both tires flat and 25km to go, I had no option but to call it a day at the nearest marshal post.

I didn't make it out the other side of 'Hell' but this unique event has given me as many stories as the winner.

I would like to thank the Police for their continued support. They really did do a super job of creating a safe bubble for us to ride in. I would like to thank EMDA for inviting me to ride for the East Midlands and for supporting the team.

I hope that next year is puncture-free for me and that I finally reach Melton.

My final thankyou must go to the people at Owston, Burrough on the Hill and Oakham - the atmosphere created one again made this race the best in the country. Well done, and thank you.

Alex Wise