Kilgobnet 4 Mile 2022 - INFO

 

Tralee 100K Ultra 2022 - RESULTS

Tralee 100K Ultra - 19 June 2022

Full results HERE.

Gallery of photos HERE.

The Silence of the Swans by David Kissane

 

The Silence of the Swans - A Story of The Kilmoyley 5K/10K Route

By David Kissane

(With grateful assistance from Ger Carroll and Mary Walsh)

It’s 6pm on a Thursday. There’s loads of work to be done around the house. Lawns to be cut (not too short), spuds to brench (earth up), fascia to replace and walls to be painted.

I check my WhatsApp to locate an escape route. “Run from Kilmoyley Community Centre at 7pm, in preparation for the Kilmoyley Miler on Sunday” our St Brendan’s AC WhatsApp says. Coach Ursula Barrett on the warpath again.

Down with the lawnmower, the spuds can wait and sure the house is only thirty years old and looks grand and on with the gear and out the door. “I thought you were competing in the Munster Masters walk on Saturday?” my better half says with a paint brush in her hand with my name on it as I hop in the van. “Warm up!” I gulp and am driving through Ardfert before that sinks in. Won’t be forgotten though and Brownie points are running low.

A late May evening, newly laundered and the white thorns are as white as wedding dresses along the Lerrig ditches and the grasses are dancing the Highland Fling as I sail across the border between Ardfert and Kilmoyley. One parish separated by the hurley. I pass Lerrig Cross and there across the road from O’Sullivan’s shop are the Kenny O’Sullivan twins, Caoilinn and Caragh with their brother Rian weeding and cleaning up for the big runs on Sunday. Those three energetic and talented teens were at training in Ardfert with the athletic club last evening and indeed have been leading lights in athletics all the spring and early summer. Now they are brightening up their community like they have brightened up St Brendan’s AC all year.

In Kilmoyley, community spirit is an essentialism. A social currency.

Arrive at the Community Centre and of course John Culloty is there before anybody. Purposeful and road-trip ready. I have to arrive early before sessions to do an extra warm up. Otherwise I am taken home in a dust pan after the first half-mile of these road sessions. John doesn’t really believe in warming up and doesn’t need to. “Don’t mind that oul stretching!” he says to me. I try to draw him into racewalking, explaining locking, heel to toe, right-angled arms but he says “Too much information there, Kissane!” Then Kenneth Leen arrives. Former Kerry minor and now discovering faster and faster 5Ks. And a good coach too. Then Marie Louise Sheehy comes bounding along and I know that it’s going to be a fast session. It gets even more serious when Margaret Carlin arrives. A serious distance runner, living intensely in the running moments.

Then Coach Ursula shoots out of her car with intent, with our guest for the past few months, Ivan from Spain. Ivan is a flyer over anything from 5K up, an assisted athlete who can run beside any runner with the help of an elastic band. The assistants usually finish a run in a state of exhaustion as Ivan seems to push his helpers to the limit. He doesn’t like the steep rise of the nearby Gallán though. We did over a hundred sprints up the Gallán. Seemed like! The Gallán is the only feature of Kerry that has challenged him.

And a warmup and off we go. Or rather off they go. I use the scenic style as I really do have a Munster 5K walk on Saturday and a metaphorical pension book in my pocket. And anyway, May is nearly over and the Kilmoyley Miler route has to be sampled like fine wine. Slowly and sensuously. A vintage route. Aged by nature and the hand of time.

The name Cill Mhaoile derives from the words cill (church) and possible maol (bare) which often signifies a bare hillock. The church on the bare hillock. Back in the 1841 survey, it was mentioned that the area was called after the female Saint Maoile, a female saint “whose festival is not remembered in the parish”. Would be nice to think there is a female saint out there in eternity roaring at us to remember her. If we listen long enough, we may hear. “Kylmoyl” was first mentioned in a written document in 1261. It is now mentioned a lot. Especially in hurling championship season. And on Kilmoyley Miler day when the tidy towns committee set to work with a fundraiser for their year’s work. The bare hillock days are gone and now a vibrant colourful aura surrounds you as you enter any one of the thirty one townlands in the district. Can you name all the townlands?

Running clockwise on this glorious evening, we head east from the Kilmoyley Community Care Centre to the Lerrig-Causeway road. Most people who are visiting runners won’t be aware that across the road from the start line, where an elegant house now stands, the Kilmoyley Post Office resided. Owned by the Breen family. Then the run proceeds past the smallest meadow in Ireland, tidy and just cut, on the left. A relict of old Kilmoyley. A relict of old Ireland. There’s surely a story about that little meadow hidden in tradition or in a heart. There’s always a story.

Then hurling and athletics history abounds in the next houses as the Brick family – Fr Mossie (don’t you just love his sermons!), John Martin, Shane (imagine if you were a goalkeeper looking at Shane lining up to take a 21 yard free…he didn’t do points from there, only exocets), Billy, John Michael (who had a huge part in the development of athletics in North Kerry and Causeway Comprehensive), Ian (who always facilitates our club notes in The Kerryman and was one of the first members of St Brendan’s AC). And far away in Melbourne there is Sheila Brick whom you can hear shouting for Kilmoyley 12,000 miles away in county finals!

Onward then with fragrant grass on each side and ditches enriched by nettles, buttercups and ferns. Two types of ferns. A field of buttercups on the right. The bees must love Kilmoyley. It’s a nectar bank. Then a substantial fort on the left with oak and alder adorning the two raths that surround it. If that lios could speak! It would tell us about the hurlers who used to train beside it up to three decades ago in Brick’s Field. Another altar to hurling.

Jog on to a neat cottage on the right with a field of spud drills behind. It’s a long time since the famine but we never trust the future. To the left in the fields is a new house being constructed. A community consolidating. As we motor on, the clash of the ash is never far away with the homes of Denis Tracey and Colman Savage, ash-exponents who grafted their sporting pathways in the world’s most beautiful and fastest game.

The pattering feet turn right at Screw Cross on the main Causeway-Ardfert road. Screw Cross? The origin of the name is debatable. Some call it School Cross. Mary Walsh (who makes lovely tea with her colleagues on Kilmoyley Miler day!) has a parish league medal belonging to her uncle who died in 1952 at the early age of 32 from the TB that was rampant at the time. The name of his team was the Screw Cross team and he won that medal in 1941. If the name is on a medal then it has history behind it.

As you now head south towards Lerrig Cross, you can smell the early summer breeze blowing across the dancing grasses from Banna a few miles away to the right. A little rise is detected, although someone from Kilmoyley had said it was a flat course. “Well, kinda flat. Most of it, like!” You pass an old cottage on the right where generations lived. Now with a beautifully painted rabbit with a story of its own, it catches the eye and generates a smile. These little things matter.

In a short while, the adrenaline starts invading the brain and the body starts thinking it has Olympic legs. Logic cries slow down and delightfully logic wins. You pass the famous Walsh hurling territory, Christy and Joe knew hurleys and more recently, Clodagh Walsh, daughter of Joe, will always remember the All Ireland camogie win of 2019.

Lerrig Cross comes into view and seems to be much higher than where I am plodding now. I see the other runners way ahead by now, bounding off the road like a Jack-in-the-Box (anybody younger than 50 will have to google that) and talking too. Talking and running at my age is a career-limiting activity and reminds me of trying to talk under water. I tried that when I was trying to learn how to swim as an old man. All I wanted to say was HELP but the words were washed back down. With water and chlorine. Our ancestors were fish but my memory fails to go back 400 million years. I prefer dry land.

I can think while running though and take time to look sideway. Just before Lerrig Cross, there is the Costelloe house from where Jim and Margaret left on many an early morning to transport their three talented daughters to cross country and track and field championships and sports all over Ireland in the 1990s and beyond. The backbone of St Brendan’s AC and Ardfert Klmoyley Community Games for years. And Jim will be stewarding at Lerrig Cross for the run on Sunday while Ann Marie and Elaine will be taking the entries in the Community Care Centre. You can’t buy that level of commitment. Part of what makes Kilmoyley what it is.

Then the progressive Lerrig Stores faces you on the left as you turn right and westwards. Developing all the time. Owner John O’Sullivan will be running the 10K on Sunday and he won’t be taking it easy either. Strong runner. John Fitzgerald had the shop there from the 1960s on and had a bit of everything for sale. It was the meeting point for Kilmoyley hurlers in those days. A confluence of hurleys and hurlers. Youngsters walked and cycled there to be collected for games by the mentors. Piled into cars. Six or eight in every car. Days of freedom.

Before the Fitzgeralds opened that shop, the provisions were bought in Flaherty’s across the road where Flaherty’s Hardware is thriving now. That shop had operated from the start of the twentieth century till the 1960s.

Across the road from Lerrig Stores now is a wishing well and artwork, neatly kept by the community. Nearby lives the legend who is John Brendan Griffin, soccer supremo as well as hurling stalwart. I had the good fortune to play on the Lerrig O35 soccer team when I was near to 45 and John Brendan was an inspiration. He was a statement of appetite. He had a habit of calling my name in a game, making a clearance out of defence and expecting me to chase the ball. The last time I tried the chase, I pulled both hamstrings and that was football retirement for me. John B has a place in Kilmoyley folklore. And he’s not finished yet!

The famous local gallán stone had its origins near the Griffin land. A gallán was a standing stone but a deeper insight may reveal that it was a “foreign” stone that was moved from somewhere far away by the melting ice. Literally “a travelling foreign stone”.

As John Culloty, one of the runners here would say, “too much information, Kissane!”

A fair bit of a hill reveals itself as we approach the half-way point in the run and on top of the hill is the native place of former Kerry hurling manager Denis Flaherty. The camán is unavoidable in Kilmoyley. On that hill, a testing one, was O’Rahilly’s forge, serving from 1900 till the 1980s, operated for years by Patie O’Rahilly. Like all forges, it was a gathering place for locals who chatted as they watched the horseshoes being forged, the gates being riveted and the wooden wheels being ironed. The clang of the anvil and the hiss of red iron in water. Hurling stories and tall tales. Sparks flying. The bellows bellowing. A forging of community spirit. Now, forges are gone the way of the creameries but the spirit is continues in other ways. Obla di, obla da, life goes on.

Behind the forge is Lynacourtney fort, and beside this was Lerrig Chapel. A thatched structure from the early 1800s till the 1870s. Eventually demolished, its stones were used to construct the present church.

Then a blessed downhill section of the run takes us towards Lerrig Lough. Just before the iconic nature reserve, there is Tearmann Eirc is on the left. A place of sanctuary where St Erc established a monastery in the 5th century. It was reputed to be the oldest church in Kerry and who’s going to contest that! The original Cill Mhaoile? St Brendan himself is reputed to have been a student here. Did he ever run the Kilmoyley route? He probably did in his everyday work. Before discovering America too. St Erc and Brendan could see the watery world of the Atlantic Ocean from the lawn of the monastery, Sliabh Mis and Brandon too. No wonder that they must have dreamed of what was beyond. Dreaming inspires action in the right minds.

And then there is the Lough on the left. A haven for a variety of wildlife. Two swans cross the road as Marie Louise and Maggie approach and they have to wind their way around them. Family of five cygnets following the mother across the road to graze on sweet Kilmoyley grass. A guarding eye from the mother while the daddy watches close by. Once the parents see that the two runners mean no harm, they remain quiet. The silence of the swans is amazing. They could be related to the Children of Lir on the waters of the Moyle. The other Moyle that sounds like Kilmoyley.

Beside and in the Lough is a variety of ducks and related species. All peaceful and friendly. They know they are in a good place. You should close your eyes here and listen and you can hear into the life of things. A spiritual place. Its cup runneth over.

There was noise here one time too. At the edge of the Lough was a handball alley from the 1930s. After Sunday mass in those far-off days, youths would rush to the ball alley and the first to arrive would get the first games. That summer Sunday feeling in the clear air of Lerrig. Parish leagues sprang up. And traditions were made.

Florence O’Sullivan went on to play for Kerry from his home near the Lough. And speaking of hurling (!), next on the right is Páirc Naomh Eirc where the runners turn right and north. How often do you pass the home of reigning Munster champions? We pass here now and the runners will on Sunday as they pass here. It seems quiet and a few fellas are pucking the sliotar around. Beware of sleeping giants. The field was bought from the Healys in 1984. There was a crop of barley sat there in the first spring. The ground was to produce more than barley. These six acres have become fertile and reproductive ground for one of the most successful hurling clubs in the county. Not least in the record-breaking year of 2022.

If we had continued west instead of turning right at the field, we would have passed the home of the late Paddy O’Connor, leading light with Belgrave Harriers AC in London for many years. We think of Paddy as we run the run he would love to run and where he assisted for years after returning to Ireland. His name should be remembered on a cup.

A Kilmoyley man told me a story in Dublin some years ago about a football match that was played in Kilmoyley in the days gone by. A certain strong player from Dingle who was also a Kerry player, was on the visiting team and legend had it that this particular player had certain organs as big as a bull. As the players were togging out beside the ditch, all the local young fellas gathered behind the bushes to verify the veracity of the scéal. Before they were hunted away, some maintained that they had been able to witness with their own eyes that the legend was true! The teller of the tale to me confirmed that he was one of the witnesses!

As the runners head down the good road between the hurling pitch and the church, moving from one religion to another, they are in the last two K of a 5K run and the feeling is good. It seems that we are running downhill as the church spire draws us onwards. Any port in a storm. To the left, cows are munching the rich grass after milking and there is that milky/grassy smell of May. That ancient feeling of rebirth. A run can do that for you.

From this section of the road came county hurlers from the Regan, Maunsell and Harris families. Goals and points and saves and leather in the air. And on the ground.

Before the church on the left is Kilmoyley Graveyard. A recently constructed resting place has the names of a generation: Collins, Dineen, Nolan, Griffin, Ryle, Hehir, Lawlor, Costello, Costelloe, Sheehy, Harrington, Brick, Feehan, Brassil, Savage, O’Sullivan, McElligott, Curran, Regan, Carroll, Treacy, Maunsell, O’Leary, Flanagan, Lynch, Lovett, Gentleman and Keane. And more. And the resting place of an angel too. A life only begun.

Thoughts to keep us grounded as we go on. Runner pass by.

Then you jog pass housing estates on the left and the right, showing that Kilmoyley is becoming urbanised and populated and after all has its own road signs and is now a village in real terms. An intensity of engagement.

Kilmoyley Church on the left. Opened in 1873, it stands tall and declamatory and the strong voice of priests can be recalled instructing the parishioners on Saturday evenings and Sunday mornings for generations. I can hear Fr Tom Looney bringing stories of South America to Kilmoyley and Fr Costello talking about the mysteries of the stars and Fr Declan O’Connor gently speaking of hope. Weddings and christenings and Easter prayers. And of course, funerals. The centre of the life of the parish.

During a church gate collection there some years ago for the Community Games, it poured rain and a soup of green ran out the bottom of the biscuit tin from the old pound notes. Then a gale of wind overturned the box and notes flew out onto the road and Timmy McCarthy ran the race of his life to catch all of them as they headed for Causeway!

Turning to the right, we head east in the final K, reaching an intense pitch. This vicinity produced goalies for the Kerry hurlers in the persons of Aiden McCabe and John B O’Halloran. Across the road, there are the origins of the three Lovetts, Fr Xavier (RIP), Seán (RIP) and Declan, the Master, sport star who will walk the walk on Sunday to support his community. He loves hitting golf balls in the Cúl Trá. Some years ago, a secondary school principal from Tralee came out to the primary schools in the area to advertise his school. Rushing around and busy as all secondary principals are, he eventually came to Kilmoyley NS and saw Declan Lovett sitting on the low wall outside the school at lunchtime, watching and encouraging the pupils who played hurling and camogie. “I wish we could change places!” the Tralee head said to Declan as he headed off to his next assignment with sweat on his brow.

Just across the road on the left as the running legs pick up on the road from the church is the Tóchar Bán pub, centre of celebrations for many county hurling championship wins. And beyond. Along this road is the home places of Patcheen Quane, winner of an All Ireland senior medal with Kerry in 1891 and it was John Flanagan’s home ground too…a successful Kerry player. And wasn’t bad with the greyhounds either!

On the right as you speed up towards the finish line, there is Kilmoyley Music School and further on is SonaHeal, run by Jill Kenny. Services for the local community. A field of barley eases the sense as you begin the (imaginary) final sprint, waving in the breeze and reminding one that there are very few fields of barley a short distance away in Ukraine this year…

And then there is Scoil Naomh Eirc and the Community Centre the finish line. On Sunday Pádraig Regan, suffused with sophistry and fresh from local drama stage success in playing the lead role in Oscar Wilde’s “Lord Savile’s Crime”, with his distinguished wild beard and flowing locks will call out the names as they cross the line. And one of those crossing the line will be Lady Beauchamp herself, AKA Ann Quane.

If Wilde himself were here, he might have exclaimed “Oh, how we have lived this day of May!”

Of course if you are doing the 10K, you go around again. More time to breath in the spirit of Kilmoyley and acquire fresh nibs for your pens.

And the music will blare out loud and rhythmically as the destination brings joy and ease and stop the watch and oh my shins!

“Ice, ice, baby…”

There will be tea and buns in the Centre and presentations of envelopes and strong tea and run post mortems and craic. If that atmosphere could only be played on a Bechstein piano or a Stradivarius violin! What music for the spirit! It would lift and linger and rise like a second movement. An aria that Kilmoyley would give to the world. Because there is music in Kilmoyley.

And another memorable day will be chalked down in Kilmoyley.

On Sunday evening when all is quiet and the sun sets on a golden day beyond Banna, the shards of memory reach back to the day’s run. Its hidden energies. We may live a while with unspoken thoughts and remember. No run is just a run.

Some may even recall the silence of the swans...