"WHAT happens to men in their late 20s?" my girlfriend enquires, as she watches my peers and I - once bookish, PE-class-skipping hedonists - turn into born-again health nuts. By way of answer, I indicate the area below my ribs that sits over the waist of my trousers, an expansion in my middle quarters that in recent years has prompted a frenzy of activity to try to remove it.
I have jumped into the ocean in deepest winter, played soccer in the pouring rain, turned my summer holidays into a bicycle trek through Co Clare and used up every other spare minute haring around the local green space. What a life. Not only have I become the man I used to snigger at from the comfort of a park bench, but my rewards have been: three head-colds, one cramp, two rickety knees, three punctures (tyres only, no lungs so far) and one lifeboat rescue. Not only that, but every exertion has seemed to justify a disproportionately elaborate eating and drinking binge afterwards, undoing any possible benefit the exercise might otherwise have produced.
Charity event
So when a fellow sufferer confronted me some weeks ago with yet another futile plan - a day-long cycle to Wexford - I thought: "Waste of time." But he pressed me. It was a charity event, a rare opportunity to help the homeless, helpless and hungry.
I scratched my belly in sympathy. Clearly, the familiar bulge still shocks me into action now and again, because before you could say "puncture repair kit" I was accepting a sponsorship card and thinking of people I could ask for money. It's a queer society we live in, where members of the middle classes won't stop to exchange a few words with a person begging on the street, yet will pedal all the way to Wexford in the interests of conscience management or knocking a few pounds off a beer-gut. Still, if we don't have the gumption to roll up our sleeves and do something personally about the country's social problems, the next best thing is to help those who do.
Welcome Home collects for Fr Peter McVerry's Arrupe Society charity, which runs three hostels for homeless children in Ballymun, Glasnevin and Drumcondra in Dublin. These are often the last resort for teenagers who may have been victims of sexual abuse, are involved in prostitution, or are heroin users. Many hostels in the city stipulate that teenagers must be in school or taking a course to qualify for a bed. Those who fail to meet these criteria can try the Arrupe Society. Other homeless young people cannot stay in certain hostels because, as a result of a disturbed background, their behaviour is considered dangerous to staff or other residents. Fr McVerry's hostels take on these cases.
Addiction
The hostel staff work regularly with 20 to 25 people aged between 14 and 18. The Jesuit Tony O'Riordan, who works in one of the hostels and accompanied our expedition, explained that often the main focus is to persuade young people to deal with an addiction and get them on a programme that will help them do this. Residents' personal problems and progress are monitored to see how they can be helped.
"A lot of our work could be termed relapse management," he says. "The minimum we do is to provide a place to sleep."
This is, in short, a cause worth pedalling for. Worried in advance that the trip might attract some serious pros, I was glad to be greeted at the starting point in UCD last Saturday week by a collection of windy-looking amateurs in cycling shorts. D'Unbelievables enter the Tour de France. A man with a megaphone took us through the rules and said that anybody who got into difficulty could be picked up and driven to the finish by a "confidential" ambulance service that would accompany us all the way. Then, with a surreptitious wink to the ambulance driver, a wave to my protesting chiropractor, and a lick of sunblock, we were off.
On a long-distance cycle you notice Ireland's physical geography as never before. I was surprised to find that the entire country runs uphill, except for occasional features - such as "Heartbreak Hill" outside Rathnew and the new Arklow bypass - which are simply vertical. Weather is intensified too, so that a spot of pleasant sunshine turns a jaunt in the country into a scene from Lawrence of Arabia. But, helped by the top-of-the-range racers donated for the weekend by Cycleways of Parnell Street as a contribution to the charity, at we huffed and puffed and groaned our way into Wexford at 5 p.m., sounding like the soundtrack from a soft-porn film.
Running expenses
Was it worth it? Each of the 100-plus cyclists raised at least £300, and the entire Welcome Home event maybe £50,000, which Fr O'Riordan says is a substantial sum in the context of the Arrupe Society's work. Including staff and running expenses, it costs between £25,000 and £30,000 to keep a young person in a Welcome Home hostel for a year.
So we raised a few welcome pounds, but did I shed any over those 80 merciless miles? Well, it seems I was wrong to think a beer belly is unshakeable. After the slap-up meal that followed the cycle, I was able to shake it a good three inches in either direction.
Those wishing to help Fr McVerry's work can send contributions to The Arrupe Society, 26 Upper Sherrard Street, Dublin 1.