Drowning in madness

I AM - and maybe it’s all that I am - one mad bastard, so this undertaking was well within character. Not at all the craziest thing I’ve ever done, just one of the most painful.

Three days later and much of the pain, the residual stiffness, is beginning to fade. So is the memory of the immediate reaction. Never again, I had said to myself, never again will I be tempted to do any sort of triathlon, not even of the tiddliest nature.

It had started barely three weeks earlier with a piece in the paper and a dangerous germ of an idea. It would all end in agony in Farran Woods, a few miles outside Cork city.