I thought I could win the National - but in five strides it all went up in smoke

This article was first published in April 2021, and is a fascinating insight into what it feels like to ride in the Grand National, as Patrick Mullins takes you on a journey with his mount Burrows Saint.

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"It doesn't get any better than this." I grin down at Rachel Boyd at Burrows Saint's head as we walk out under the Aintree stand.

Finally things are moving all at the right speed again. They had us in at the track five hours before the race in order to tell us, "Pull up when tired. The world is watching. Don't do anything silly. The world is watching. Don't rush the start. The world is watching."

It doesn't feel like many are watching at all as the sound of hooves echo around. We reach the track and Rachel lets us go with some wished luck. We gallop down to look at the first. Stop in front of it, take a quick look, wheel about and gallop back toward the start. Get the girths checked and jig-jog quickly over to where the circle is beginning to form. I want to be middle-inner so I join in about ten or 12 from the inside.

Horses and jockeys begin swarming around, and as we turn, the line gets longer and longer. "Go back to the water fence and turn, and then come up slowly. Slowly!," the starter's assistant shouts at us.

We start the turn at the water, but the space isn't big enough and the middle of the line get squeezed out. I'm pushed back behind the front line. B***ocks. We're moving forward now, and I'm poking Burrows' nose between tails, legs and boots, trying to needle myself forwards. Middle-inner has gone out of the window, just somewhere not here will do. We break into a canter and some space appears.

"No, no, no, I'm not letting you go, I'm! Not! Letting! You! Go!," the starter is telling us. The field manages to grind to a halt before the tape. We take a turn and face back to the tape. "I'm… raising… my flag… all right, away you go," he says like a schoolteacher rolling his eyes at his least favourite class.

The 40 runners are set for the 2021 Randox Grand NationalCredit: John Grossick (racingpost.com/photos)

The tape flies up and we launch into a gallop. Burrows leaps forward and we're away in the front line, mowing down the daylight ahead of us. Great, part one done right. We thunder down over the sand roads, the horses on my outside are moving ahead and also slightly in, narrowing our sight of the fence. I squeeze Burrows forward to keep a clear run. The first rushes to meet us.

Burrows shortens, lifts and touches down. We're over and away and into the pinball machine that is the National course. I've a great position, but I want to slide back a little bit. We clear the second. The big ditch appears. I can see Burrows' ears measuring it. I leave him alone and he clears it cleanly. Perspective is everything and these fences don't feel big from this lad's back. I can see a JP horse on my inside. White cap. Any Second Now. The orange and brown of Sam Waley Cohen are on my outside. We jump the next two and streak on down towards Becher's.

I've dropped back a few lengths into the pack and Johnny Burke's blue and white silks slide into the gap in front of me. I'm surrounded by horses now, but I can see the fence through the gaps between hooves. We meet Becher's a little long and I give Burrows his head. He takes it on and soars out over the drop. Edge left and over Foinavon. On to the Canal Turn and daylight starts to narrow as we slow and bunch up in order to cut the corner. We skid around and face Valentine's. I see the yellow of Yala Enki in front of me now. He's fallen here before so I don't want to be behind him. I move to my right.

We jump the next plain one, the ditch, and another plain one. I start to move back in for the turn. We pound over the Melling Road and I see a grey head at my boot but I slowly lean in to get as tight for the bend as I can. I count the ones ahead. We're in sixth. I spy Cloth Cap and think he'll take me a long way with a target to aim at. The next two jumps whizz by and we rattle on down over The Chair and stream out over the water. We sweep around the bend past the stands. One lap down, one to go. Take a breath. I'm in fourth. Settled and jumping well. The dream is alive. Rachael Blackmore is on my inside.

"Happy enough?" I shout across to her.

"I am. How you going, P?" she replies.

"So far so good."

What the man who jumped off a building said at every window he passed on the way down.

Patrick and Burrows Saint (pink) is just ahead of winner Minella Times as they take the waterCredit: John Grossick (racingpost.com/photos)

The purple colours in front of me are wavering in and out a bit, the horse hanging in, the jockey trying to keep out. I edge right to keep some clear air. The next fence flashes towards us. I can see Sam Waley-Cohen clear at the front, but I discount him as I don't fancy Jett and it looks like he's doing too much.

I take Burrows back a bit and we pop the next. No need for heroics this far out. Just stay jumping and keep a bit up your sleeve. I can feel the horses behind bunching up and around behind us. The big ditch looms into sight again.

A perfect stride. One, two, three. Touch down and on to the next one. Pop. I'm surprised not to be seeing a head appearing on my boot. The one before Becher's. Pop. Take a pull. Burrows pricks his ears. I see Tom Scudamore shake the reins at Cloth Cap. He isn't travelling. This means I'm driving the bus in reality now. The hedge appears on the inside, we spot a good stride and I let Burrows at it. We soar past Cloth Cap in mid-air. Land and head left. Take a pull. And another breath.

"We could win this." The thought flashes through my head as soon as we touch down. The back of Becher's second time. Jumping. Travelling. Foinavon passes by almost unnoticed. Cloth Cap is back upsides, but I can hear him gurgling. He won't be winning.

We swing wide for the Canal Turn and slice the corner. Jett is a fair way clear now, but I'm happy to give him the rope. He has to come back. Take your time. I want something to bring me to him ideally. We brush over Valentine's.

Rachael appears on my inside again. Perfect. We get in tight to the next. Take a pull. The last ditch emerges into sight. I squeeze Burrows forward towards it. A lovely stride appears. He lengthens, lifts, stretches and lands. This is Playstation jumping. We've jumped slightly past Rachael. On to the third-last. Jett is still well clear and still no pressure from my outside. It's all very smooth.

We meet the third-last beautifully and land in second. I take a long pull. Crossing the Melling Road in the National and I'm taking a pull. "We could win this." But it's a cold thought, not hot. Just keep filling up, it's a long way home. Take your time. I see Sam's legs begin to move a bit and his hands too. He's running on empty. Rachael is on my inside. Sam is dropping back. The thought crosses my mind to keep her tight and lock her in behind Sam.

The consequence will mean I'm left in front well before the second-last with no lead. I decide I'm travelling well enough and it's far enough out that I'm happy to get back on to her boot and let her lead me.

Both Ruby and Paul warned me to hold on to my lad as long as possible. Jett's engine finally sputters out and he drops back like a stone through water. On we gallop. A chestnut head appears on my outside boot. Funny colours. Balko Des Flos. We pass under the Topham start and after two furlongs of steadying up, the pace lifts a gear.

Patrick and Burrows Saint (left, partly hidden) have run out of gas as Rachael Blackmore and Minella Times gallop to victoryCredit: Alan Crowhurst (Getty Images)

And in the space of five strides, it's gone. The dream goes up in smoke. Burrows empties underneath me, his stamina evaporating like air out of a balloon. We jump the second-last and Minella Times and Balko start to draw away. Any Second Now runs on past. Sigh.

The last is getting bigger. We're getting slower. Get over it. Jesus, the Elbow looks a long way away. Burrows is starting to hang right, he's very tired.

I'm looking to see is Rachael in front, trying to listen for the commentary too, waiting for something to pass me. We crawl over the line, still in fourth. "History's been made," I hear the tannoy say. I better go find Blackmore.

I give Burrows a pat on the neck. A great spin. But… Will I ever get another chance like it?

Watch: ride the Grand National with Patrick Mullins and Burrows Saint

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