AS the gap widened between my team mates and I on one of the monstrous hills out of Doolin last Sunday morning, the stabbing pain in my shoulder worsening and my thighs feeling like they were about to fall off, I contemplated the incredible agony I was putting myself through.

There I was, half way up, what appeared to me Ireland's equivalent to Kilimanjaro, on the lowest gear possible and not an ounce of strength in my body to keep going when I realised that I was miles from the nearest food stop and dying to go to the loo. I could have cried.

I was one of 99 cyclists who took to the road last Saturday and Sunday and cycled from Knocklong in south east Limerick to Doolin in west Clare as part of the 17th annual Knocklong/Glenbrohane Charity Cycle in aid of various charities including Cystic Fibrosis, Mid West Cancer Services, Irish Guide Dogs for the Blind and Chernobyl Children's Project.

An unfavourable constitution had seen me sidelined for the past number of years and while charity was obviously one of my main motivations, a desire to be back on the saddle and cycling amidst the craic was high up there also.

For the past 17 years, amateur cyclists from the parish of Knocklong and Glenbrohane have rallied together for what has evolved into one of the greatest community events of the year.

Since 1992, the parishioners Tom Ahern and John Elliott, have brought together the cream of the crop in fundraising, catering, first aid, stewarding and cycling and have travelled the many roads of Munster.
With the initial cycle making the route to Killarney, the group has seen Waterford, Doolin, Galway and West Cork a number of times over the past two decades raising almost €1million.

"Funds were needed to do up both churches in the parish and that motivated us to get going," John told me while enjoying a well earned cup of coffee in Doolin on Saturday evening.

"It's all about sitting up on the bike, having a laugh with your friends and neighbours and doing what you can. You can sit in if you need to or keep going if you want. It's an enjoyable way to make a difference."

The agony of my rear end told a different story the following morning, however!

As I stood straddling my bike, ready for road on Saturday morning, I watched the hype of activity that buzzed around me. Well wishers and family supporters, who had chosen to hold the fort for the weekend, kissed husbands, wives, daughters and sons as they stretched their toned muscles and donned the high tech cycling gear.

Business people stood at doors sharing jokes with participants and organisers gave orders on loud speakers.

It had also become a real family occasion. The cyclists were carefully divided into four groups, distinguishable by colour, each team boasting at least one large family gathering.

The black team boasted the Burkes, the whites had the immediate and extended Harty family, the reds had the O'Reilys, O'Learys and the McCarthys, while the O'Donnells and the Carrs, headed up the green team.

On the support teams, pockets of neighbours and friends, seasoned to the annual ritual, were found helping to create the celebratory fun atmosphere sure to keep us going.

However, there was no under-estimating the tough physical challenge ahead of us to have our cause noticed and no amount of neighbourly camaraderie would help deaden the pain thumping in your knees.

"The cycle is no joke," a former neighbour of my own, Geraldine Murphy, reassured me at the last stop in Ennistymon on Saturday. I was relaying to her, over a welcomed cup of tea and homemade scone, feelings about the previous 50 miles, and was trying to hide the fact that I found the last five miles, most especially, difficult.

"You really need to have training done, you're only codding yourself if you don't. It's a tough physical challenge but it's for a great cause and that's what makes it worth it."

I took great comfort in her words of wisdom and realised that the women on the cycle were in a minority. However the question did come to mind, just how much of an advantage did the men have over the women in a "battle" such as this? Just because they may be that bit "stronger" than us on a physical level were they really at that much of an advantage? In the process of figuring out the truth to the battle of the sexes on a charity cycle I went to chat to some lads I had known since my tricycle days.

I was informed, once again, from one particular visibly fit and strong lad, about the importance of being protected as he rubbed a large quantity of high factor sun block on his delicate skin for the fifth time that day.

"You know I could sweat out through that and it could all wear off," he said with the most sincere face I had ever seen. "I'd hate to get sun burned."

Being a red head myself I know the agonies of being scorched by the sun and I am aware it is nothing to laugh at; however, I found it highly entertaining that he was telling me this. I was content with my answer. Charity or not, it was still a battle.

Extreme physical lengths, whether that is in the form of pain or exhaustion, appear to be a common trait running through our fundraising mentality over the past number of years.

With funds short for many clubs, associations and societies, the common bag packing, sponsorship card and flag days have become a thing of past, while bungee jumping, parachuting and extreme sports now part of the everyday landscape.

However, no matter what the challenge, there appears to be no end to people's generosity as I was to learn on the home stretch on Sunday.
As I attempted to keep the pace with Glenroe man, Mike Myers last weekend, he attempted to distract me by chatting about a recent cycle he and one of the green team leaders, Willie Carr, took part in recently from the North of France to Lourdes.