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01 August 2010  Races » Race Reports (Blogs)   Login
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The Hell of the West Triathlon has been running for 21 years - the longest running triathlon race in Ireland. The race is run by the local Limerick Triathlon Club. The main organiser of the event was actually training for Ironman Austria the following weekend, so I can only imagine his life has been all too stressful with organising a race of this magnitude and Ironman training. But they did a great job. Our goody bag was packed full of all sorts of "goody" things. Not least of which was a very handy pump that pumps up to 180psi, along with some very useful hair grooming products - the Irish triathletes are almost as vain as Richard Pace! Eoin Cannon (or maybe I should say Cancannon!) and Conan Gibney were the only two triathletes competing from Ful-On Tri Club, but had fantastic traveling support from Eoin's girlfriend Sara, who between fending off some mad Irish dogs and taking photos was there to urge us on over the last hill in the run - even though there were another five of the them!

The swim was...

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Desperate to fill another weekend, and thereby delay the inevitable and embarrassing swim rescue in my first Triathlon, I took part in the Lowe Alpine Mountain Marathon (LAMM) on the 18th/19th June 2005. The race is a two-day event that is always based in Scotland at a location which remains a secret until the day before. The event entails a team of two navigating between set control points over mountainous terrain carrying enough sustenance and equipment for two days' competition and an overnight camp. The onus is clearly on travelling 'light and fast', but after a lap of Richmond park the week before with my rucksack on, my bleeding shoulders and aching knees were not really entering into the spirit of things. I flew up to Glasgow on the Friday night where we (Myself and teammate Mary) were to meet a coach that was to take us to Oban, the location that had been revealed as the start the day before. Spirits were high, and stories were being swapped between competitors of tales of various heroic achievements ('Box Hill?- that's not a hill..etc'). Suitably intimidated, we arrived at Oban in the obligatory rain and, as a 'twist', were herded onto a Ferry which took all the 700 or so teams competing to the Isle of Mull. Base tent pitched, and a bowel of Chilli Lentils eaten, went to sleep (not a theme of the weekend) at about 1am.

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