Richard Hogan: I trained for just a month to travel 150k in 24 hours without sleep

Left to right: Jim Shiggins , Mike Murphy, lan O’Sullivan, Richard Hogan

Dante’s Inferno tells the story of the poet’s fictionalised descent into hell, where he is guided by the ancient Roman poet Virgil.

Hell is depicted as nine concentric circles of torment located within the earth. Satan himself resides there. After escaping hell, Dante and Virgil will go on to purgatory and then Dante will go to heaven. Well, the reason I’m telling you this is because I have been to hell. I have visited the concentric circles of torment, but in my journey there was only a mere eight circles to endure.

Last Friday I naively undertook the Tom Crean Challenge down in Kerry. I was asked by Alan O’Sullivan from CyberSafeKids would I be willing to take part in this event to raise money for the charity. 

I have always suffered with impulse control issues, so I said yes, without really thinking about what might be required to get fit for this challenge. The name on the challenge should have given me the heads up that this might be more than your average fun run in the park.

Tom Crean was no slouch. When I read the itinerary, I knew I had bitten off more than I usually like to chew. We had to travel 150k in 24 hours without sleep. I watched my wife give birth to three children, so you know I’m tough, and an optimist. I can do this, I told myself. 

I started my prep in July for my couch to 150k. A 4k run here, a 3k walk there. I could see my kids laughing at me while we were on holidays in Portugal, as I inhaled another Portuguese tart. My daughters started to call it the Tom Cream Challenge.

Unphased by their mockery, I kept up the odd jog or two. But what I met on Friday night pushed me to the brink of my resolve. I realised I had not prepared for this event, I also realised that those Portuguese tarts were probably not the correct nutrition for the task at hand.

It started at 9pm with a 33k walk through the night in very uncomfortable wet terrain. You had to concentrate on every step or you’d fall or sink into some godforsaken mud hole. 

After those six long hours, we had about a 20 minute rest to get ready for our next piece of this ardours puzzle; the 33k cycle. I found this a magnificent experience, watching the sun break over the Skelligs as we cycled into the dawn. Magic. 

We passed through Dingle and over to Páidi Ó Sé’s Pub, the sky spreading out before us (I didn’t recall it being so far from Dingle when I was on all those stags).

Next we had to walk/jog 12k, and then a 15k cycle up the longest hill I have ever experienced. I was wishing at this point that Tom Crean’s parents had never met. The expletives were flowing. But I refused to yield. 

We were now at the foot of Mount Brandon. Our van of supplies missing. Adding to the craic!

I grew up in Cork. I’m a city boy. The biggest mountain I have ever summited is Patrick’s Hill of a Saturday night drunk as a teenager walking a girl home. I was proud of myself then. When the organisers said, ‘we have a six-hour hike now’ I felt like limping away slowing into a bush and weeping. It felt like a penitential rite, without the enjoyment of whatever sin I had committed. My sin was impulsivity and stubbornness. And by god was I being punished. At one point I was delighted to reach the top, only to be informed the top is over there, another kilometre or so above us. Dear God, why must you punish me. I kept going. Cursing. Alan O’ Sullivan and Mike Murphy from my team marching relentlessly ahead. Bastards. The views from the summit were breathtaking.

But then we had to go down. This was as hard as climbing up. The terrain was tricky, concentration and knees needed to hold as you manoeuvred yourself off the top of the mountain. At one point we rounded the bend, I was thinking this has to be the end of this mountain. Again, to be informed there was about another hour left in the descent.

Dante and his bloody inferno. The next stage, for those mad enough to keep going, was a 5k kayak and finally, a 10k cycle.

When my wife saw the rough beast lurching up the hotel lobby, she broke out laughing.

Bringing out the bins will never be an issue from now on. But I have to say I enjoyed the experience.

The chats with strangers through the darkness of night, and seeing Kerry in all of its splendour as the sun rose over the Kingdom was magnificent. 

I was broken on the mountain, wondering how people get any enjoyment out of hiking. But when someone explained to me how this event started, it inspired me to keep going. Kieran O’Callaghan lost his wife, Fiona to cancer in 2011.

He was left to raise his four children, and decided to honour his wife’s life by undertaking the Peninsula Challenge. For years he undertook it on his own, until it started to grow. He has now raised over €225,000. 

This year’s event raised over €80,000. At the end of each event he was waiting there, having accomplished it with ease, hand out and broad smile. He informed me when he saw my white socks he didn’t think I’d last the pace. 

Will I do it again? I wouldn’t bet against it, white socks and all.