I finish and realise that, for the distance, it’s a killer on the bike and on foot, but it’s a seminal, ramshackle race experience. I did plough a furrow into the front of the field (97 of 654, in under 4hrs) and drank enough Guinness to ensure the bus journey to Cork on the Sunday was a more bruising experience than the race itself. Next for me is a more leisurely gastronomic road bike tour in Spain and more ultra-snailing towards 100 milers. But the spirit of Killarney will remain.
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