This chapter may be the first, but it's actually one of the very last I wrote. It took me quite some time to make up my mind about whether to include this chapter or not into this blog. The point has always been to share all my knowledge, not to brag about my personal life. But my best friend was actually a game changer when he told me that watching me compete was making it look easy, even though he could understand the effort required. I was honoured, but that was not the truth. My successful #SUB10 IronMan 140.6 has been a long and full of obstacles journey, probably more than for any average athlete. That's why I thought it was important to share my story. It's absolutely not mandatory reading, but if you do, I would be honoured.
I. That marathon appetizer
For the most part of my 20's, I was on alternating current regarding my so called “fitness level”. I used to go to the gym once or twice a week for a while, but to be clear my principal interest was friends, girls, and bars. So when I turned 25 years old, being at the time 178cm tall and 74 kilos, I noticed that being a bit pot-bellied was not part of my life goal and that I should maybe consider changing things. Easy to say, harder to do. So nothing really change for another couple of years.
The shifting point happened during winter 2017. I fell in love with someone, but we broke up a few months later and I was really not feeling good. I'm not the kind of guy to feel sorry for myself so I went for a run. I crashed my legs on a 7 kilometre distance with a pace my grandpa could have handled, yet barely stood up the day after. Still, I liked the adrenaline rush coming from it, so I kept doing that kind of small run from time to time until early 2018. As I clearly liked running, I thought it would be fun to compare myself against others. My only reference point around my friends was someone with a 3h45 marathon under his belt, so I decided to go straight for the 42 kilometre distance. It's as stupid as this : Can i do better or not ?
All I can see on this photo of my first marathon is the aerodynamic I'm losing doing the monkey...
With no prior experience into running, I had four months to make it happen. So I started to “train” if we can call it that. Looking back, I had absolutely no idea of what I was doing. I was just going out and running distances from 10 to 14 kilometres at the maximum pace I could sustain. No intervals, no recovery run, no core strength. Guess what ? I got tensor fasciae latae syndrome twice in a few months, preventing me from making any progress. Even worse, I had to realize that I would not make it in time for the Paris marathon. So I decided to dodge and to find another marathon a month after at the famous Mont Saint-Michel. I struck a 3h29 time for my first attempt, with pain I never felt before either in my body or my mind. I didn't walk for the next three days, but I can say now that I found my inner self that day.
All my friends, maybe feeling what was brewing, put kind of a bit of pressure on my shoulders at that moment : « So now that you've done your thing, it's time to come back among us ! » But it was too late. I was already looking forward to the next thing, and it didn't take me long to understand it would be a long-distance triathlon. I'd heard about the IronMan competition quite a lot for the past decade, but I never really gave it a look. I just knew it was about swimming 4 kilometres or something, riding 180 kilometres, and ending with a 42 kilometre marathon. Completely unrealistic and stupid for anyone with just half a brain.
II. Down to scheduling & research
I spent some times on the IronMan website, trying to understand the race results displayed on my screen, but it was like Chinese to me. Some people were doing the marathon in 4h30, some others riding the bike in 6h… I just didn't have any point of comparison. It was totally abstract to me, but I would figure out what it all meant soon enough.
From the minute I accepted that challenge, it was clear to me that I would do it on my own, without any coach.
As I was planning my first season, i nevertheless already understood that I would need to have a practice race strategy ahead, run again a full marathon to be more used to the king distance, and finally that I would do my best to compete for the best time possible. This is a very personal thing, but I didn't see the point in just completing it. All in or nothing as they used to say.
Mixing all this together, and fine-tuning it with my professional schedule, here's what came out of it :
- IronMan 70.3 Indian Wells, USA — 9 December
- Marathon of Malta, Malta — 24 February
- IronMan 70.3 Mallorca, Spain — 11 May
- IronMan 70.3 Les Sables d'Olonne, France — 16 June
- IronMan 140.6 Switzerland, Switzerland — 21 July
Looking back at it, it’s completely nuts. That schedule was looking more like a professional triathlete one than a total age grouper newbie one, and I'm glad I was not aware of this at the time ! Now that I had the when and where, I needed the how : a sustainable training plan.
From the minute I accepted that challenge, it was clear to me that I would do it on my own, without any coach. This may sound incredibly cocky, so let me explain my thoughts. It's not about not seeking help, obviously such a race is something you can't improvise. It's about understanding what you're doing, and why. I'm someone incredibly curious by nature, and in everything I do, I need to understand what's going on. Otherwise I can't do it. So I used my favourite usual suspects to get into the game : Google & YouTube. I spent the whole month of August 2018 using keywords to navigate through the internet jungle to seek out revelant information. I also bought a couple of books on Amazon, but to be fair they were too much about completing the distance rather than competing. I finally ended up on the blog of a pro that tuned out to be decisive in my upcoming “age group career” : Cody Beals. Before jumping into the details, if you ever end up reading this, Cody, please let me say this to you : I love you big time !
This Canadian professional triathlete — winning 3 out of 3 IronMan 140.6 races he entered — took to the habit of publishing all its IM 70.3 1Cody Beals - How do pro triathletes train ? My weekly schedule and IM 140.6 2Cody Beals - Anatomy of an IronMan win : Part I training blocks. Everything. Tout. Alles. Todo. In a world of secrecy where you will never find any serious information about professional training, Cody Beals did the total opposite in an unprecedented move. It took me a single month to deeply understand, then learn, in finally processing all its data. Adjusting it to my fitness level and skill abilities, I created my first training block out of this on TrainingPeaks.
On September 1 I was all set and I pushed the button Start.
III. I'm a triathlete, Mum
It's safe to say it didn't go in according to plan, as I went with a muscular tear in my right quadriceps just 15 days later. My body was at the time definitely not ready to take on such a training load, and it was a helpful setback to understand that you have to respect the limits of your body and adapt to what its capable of, not the other way around. That injury healed, my progress over the course of October and November was quite impressive, and it is always good to start from zero. You can only make progress. December began, and it was now only two weeks away from my first 70.3 in Indian Wells, I had the feeling that I would have the opportunity to break the #SUB5 on my first try. I took advantage of the tapering week to learn just in time how to transition, through various YouTube highlights. When the day prior to the race came and I had to drop my bike in the transition zone, I felt very proud to be surrounded by such athletes and to be considered one as well. But I knew also that I still had to prove it on the field.
I really learnt for the first time what mental strength was at my first IronMan 70.3 in Indian Wells.
That was a brutal first experience I have to say. I lost 5 minutes or more on T1 losing my chip in my wetsuit while changing myself, having to do a turnaround while I was already on the bike to grab it in my transition bag. I also learnt that training and racing are two different things, even though both are closely linked. A year later I can perfectly remember a moment somewhere near the end of the bike leg, my ass being destroyed by sitting in aero position on the saddle, asking myself : « Why the fuck are you doing all this ? And you want to do a full IronMan ? Yet another stupid idea from you, can't you be just like anyone else and enjoy life without inflicting that much pain on yourself ? » Just imagine what I was thinking one hour later in the middle of the half marathon... I finished on my knees, lying on the grass for almost an hour.
But I finished it. Initial 70.3 in 05:02:25, falling short of the #SUB5. After a good night's sleep, the only thing I wanted to do was... To start again.
IV. The #SUB3 marathon club
That wouldn't happen quite so soon though, as back in Europe winter was in full swing. I took a complete week off and started to focus on my next race, the open marathon at the end of February. Putting in the kilometres in the bank during these dark and cold weeks was rough, but the more I worked on my running form, the more I realised that I was making progress that was completely off the charts. Closing my last long run session two weeks prior to the race, I had the inner feeling that if all the conditions came together, i would have a chance to join the legendary #SUB3 marathon club.
Talking of conditions, I registered for the Malta Marathon on the 24th of February to ensure myself somehow of decent conditions at that time of the year. I just forgot that I was, I am, I will always be that guy with the kind of things that can only happen to me. I didn't disappoint again, as for the first time in a decade, Malta was smacked down by a severe storm3Euronews - It's 'raining fish' in Malta on that particular week-end, meaning cancellation of the race. I'm still laughing about it when watching the images. As I was peaking, and could not afford to postpone the race to later for various reasons, I found another marathon on that day. Located in Castellón, a small city next to Valencia in Spain, it was looking flat and fast with sunny 12 degrees Celsius weather announced. I managed to cancel the hotel booking in Malta, just losing money on my flights ticket. More important, contacting the Marathon of Castellón organisation, they were kind enough to answer and accept my very late registration. Huge kudos to them again !
Trying to shape your own destiny that way is often hit-or-miss. It was a hit for me. Despite having to handle a pretty, pretty hard fight between mind and body around the 36 kilometre mark until the end, I crossed the finish line in 2:57:16. It took me quite some time to realise I would be forever part of that under 2% of marathoners capable of breaking the #SUB3 barrier. I think this is to date the achievement I'm the most proud of, even more than the #SUB10. Yes, I truly believe it's harder to be #SUB3 on a marathon, but I won't be discussing it here so feel free to engage in the discussion in the comments.
Believe me or not I think that my #SUB3 marathon is actually my biggest achievement as an athlete because I truly outperformed my capacity on that day. It was just down to one thing : « How bad you want it ? »
V. Watt is love, baby don't hurt me
For the next few weeks, it was tough to get my fitness back on the bike. Making so much progress on the run in such a short amount of time obviously meant sacrifice, and the bike clearly took a big hit. I actually never managed to get back to my peak form that I had on the bike in December 2018. I was truly pissed off, and being probably too impatient at that moment led me to try different types of new unproductive workouts making me lose even more time.
We were in April, and for the first time in 8 months of triathlon, I experienced what it meant to be at a low. I felt like shit. My legs were like empty every time I was seated on the saddle, my cardio hitting the top when I should normally be comfortably speaking. It was an awful period, and after reading much and asking on various forums, I never really managed to find out if it was directly linked to potential overtraining.
Some days I was so done and dusted that I just lied on the floor for minutes straight after my training session...
No need to point out that my next race, IronMan 70.3 Mallorca, was pretty average. I did bad on the bike, bad on the run, but surprisingly pretty good on the swim. So what I tried to do was to take the positive, in that case my 31:35 swim, and looking at the overall ranking, that a final 5:11:14 time was still competitive.
Back at home, and with only a month before my next IronMan 70.3, and more importantly, two months before my A race, I really had to tackle my bike fitness problem head-on. Long story made short : it was back to basics. Hours of base endurance, fun races or group rides on Zwift, and a set aside of all the intervals sessions, as my mental fitness was definitely not ready to embrace the pain. I also organised a 3-day bike boot camp in the South of France with a good friend, riding 5 hours a day. Finally, things started to turn around quickly and by mid-June I was able to call myself a decent cyclist again.
VI. The rocket is on the launchpad
Les Sables d'Olonne, a brand new French race of the IronMan 70.3 franchise, would be my last rehearsal before the big show. My last opportunity to go #SUB5, as well. So even though I didn't feel any particular pressure, because I was now used to the racing environment, I still had this excitation of a one last time shot. I had a bad swim, giving me confidence everything was back to normal. In fact, it was way better than just back to normal. A 2:32:43 on the bike despite a hard crash on a descent turn, and a flying 1:29:16 half marathon catapulted me straight to that #SUB5, crossing the finish line in 4:43:17.
I'm not sure I had more fun that at IronMan 70.3 Les Sables d'Olonne. All the stars were aligned for a great performance, and I just had to deliver on that day. Great rewarding feeling !
10 months after starting triathlon, I finally got an almost perfectly executed race and the results I went for. 10 months of hard work, patience, dedication, to end up 15 minutes close to my age group's world 70.3 qualification slot. Still a huge gap, but so small when you look at where i came from.
With that last IronMan 70.3 done and dusted, I was feeling ready to face the beast and deliver a solid initial performance on the full distance. To be straight, I was even thinking about being close to the #SUB10 mark.
VII. You are an IronMan
Taking advantage of the 4 weeks leading to IronMan Switzerland for some final fitness adjustments, I came to Zürich with confidence. Well, almost. For the first time, my friends and family would come to one of my races to support me, and this was giving me some upswing in stress. 20 people in total; what if I had to DNF for any reason ? For myself I wouldn't care that much, there would be other opportunities, but for them I would be so ashamed.
It's often claimed that Zürich Lake and its surrounds has all-in or nothing weather in mid-July. Either the sun and heatwave or rainy and cold. However, for the very last edition of the IronMan franchise in that city, it would be time to change tradition with an unlikely mix.
The night before the race I didn't slept very well due to stress and playing the whole thing ahead, but it was still a decent 5 hour night. When I woke up, it was still dark outside, but you could hear the rain pouring down from the heavens. I'd never had to face rough conditions in a race, and of course the first time had to be on my A race of the season. Never mind, I was ready to put on a fight. Mind and body were both fresh, thanks to a good tapering, and just seeing all my friends when arriving at the start zone gave me an extra confidence boost.
A rolling start was soon in full swing, and putting on my tinted lens goggles, I was wondering how I would see anything with such a dark sky and the rain. It only took me five or six strokes in the water to understand that I would indeed be blind for the next 3,800 metres. The only thing possible was to draft from person to person and hope for the best. I found the IronMan swim to be very boring, maybe because it was in a lake without marine current to make the thing a bit more fun. Or maybe because I was not seeing beyond my arms. The rain turned into a thunderstorm in the swim's final minutes, and the only thing I was thinking about was my transition bags. Would they be completely flooded ? It would be okay for the bike gears, but it would be awful for the running clothes if I had to run later in the day with soaked shoes and socks. But, as once by the IronMan prophet : « Only focus on your next 10 minutes. »
Out of the water, making a smooth transition considering the conditions, I started the bike alongside my fellow athletes in the same state of misery. I never planned any rain outfit and I'm really blessed by the gods that the temperature was still in the low 20's, because it could have ended up really quickly in hypothermia and that DNF I was fearing. That situation lasted for the first 30 kilometres, then like every storm, it suddenly stopped.
The general atmosphere of IronMan Switzerland was absolutely incredible and it really helps to have my friends and family pushing all the way !
180 kilometres of biking is long, really long. Around the end of the first loop out of the two, I started to get into some sort of strange tempo. I knew that I was fucked up for the #SUB10, being already 10 minutes late on the target, and I had to go deep into my inner self-motivation to get back on track for the second loop. It didn't really come back as I had no clear time target at that point, until the last 20 kilometres. I saw that I could end the bike leg in SUB 5h30, and that would already be decent considering the 1,500 metres elevation of the course. I was feeling way better knowing my favourite part was around the corner with the run, and my legs were still responding. So I pushed with some extra watts and crossed the dismount line in 5:30:14. So. Close.
The second transition was, as always, more easy to handle with way less people in the changing tent, meaning some chairs being available. Sitting down and opening the transition bag, I was so relieved to see that my socks and shoes were dry. On paper, nothing could prevent me to put on a show for the run. Yet, I knew I was moving into shifting sands there. If I learnt anything ahead of the race, it's that an IronMan marathon is less predictable than Donald Trump's tweets. Literally anything can happen. But on the other side, I was a runner and it was time to school all these athletes passing me on the swim and on the bike.
As soon as I got out on the run, I got caught by an athlete probably getting already into his second of the four 10 kilometres loops. He was running at a 4'35"/km pace or so, actually my endurance pace for the past few months. As I felt good playing the role of the pilot-fish, we ran together for the first loop. I was surprised by the elevation of the course; it was definitely not flat compared to what I was expecting with two underground tunnels and a long moderate climb. But it was okay, my friends did a wonderful job being all around the course cheering so loud for me, but for the other athletes as well ! I can say with confidence they were the best supporters out there that day, so kudos to the fam' !
After 30 kilometres and starting my last loop, I was still on a 4'53"/km overall average pace but I suddenly felt that marathon wall in addition to the heat, the temperature rising to 28° degrees Celsius at that moment of the day. With no time, no position, no qualification of any kind to defend, I didn't try hard too hard at that point and dropped the pace significantly. I can't tell you how much because my GPS watch ran out of battery, so my last 7 kilometres were only by feeling. The only thing I'm sure of is that I never walked, this is something that was really important to me, I wanted to prove myself thatI could complete the distance without any “pause” for the whole thing. I had mixed feelings on that last loop, because I was considering the job done to get there, but I was also feeling that a #SUB10 could have been a thing with some adjustments and different weather conditions. I know what you're going to say : « What's wrong with you bro ? »
« You're an IronMan ! »
On the final turn to the red carpet, I could hear all my family and friends shouting my name, and only a few seconds later that famous sentence : « You are an IronMan ! » But to be fair, this is very foggy in my head, because as soon as I stopped, my body went immediately into "overheat mode". I lay down on the ground a few metres away just to ask for someone from the support crew to bring me a bottle of water that I instantly threw on my head. I don't have any concept of time and space during that moment, but for sure I didn't move an inch for 30 minutes. Starting to feel better, I contemplated my finisher medal, and yes, at that moment I felt fucking proud of what i'd just achieved, whatever the finishing time.
Speaking of the time, with a closing 3:30:13 marathon, I accomplished my first IronMan in 10:21:48. 200th out of 1,700 athletes on the field that day, including the pros. Reading that aloud is still giving me a lot of pride. But it wouldn't be enough for my insatiable spirit of competition. For now, I would just enjoy that after-party at the flat with all my family and friends, eating four-cheese pizzas, drinking Coke and Champagne until being so exhausted that I had to sleep or collapse at midnight.
VIII. Banging the head
I stayed two more days, and when it was finally time to drive back to Paris, the least we could say is that it was a hectic trip, at least in my head. Alone for 5 hours, I spent my time doing a rematch on how I missed that #SUB10, insulting that thunderstorm, asking myself why I picked such a high bike elevation race. Truth is that when I registered almost a year ago, no single version of me would have bet on such a progression on my first season of triathlon. Still, I ended up banging my head against the steering wheel, cars overpassing me looking at me like what the heck is wrong with this guy. By the time I arrived in Paris in the night, I knew I had to do it again. And quickly.
We were early August and already well into the triathlon season. For personal and professional reasons it was not possible to wait for the next season, so if I had to give it a try, it had to be in the next two months. My body was obviously very tired with the IronMan Switzerland, but I knew it could come back relatively fast if I gave it some love for a complete week or so. No, my concern was more about my brain and self motivation. For the last month of training, my brain was close to a mental boom but getting closer and closer to the final race of my season helped me to get through. So getting into another training block ? For another IronMan 140.6 ? This time to chase the #SUB10 ? Issssssssshhhhh. Whatever, I had to take a full week of complete rest, meaning a bit of time to reflect on all these question marks.
When the countdown reached zero, I indeed had the time to step back and analyse things. My season was already a success, including my A race, and I wasn't planning anything else. Considering that, what were the risks ? Getting injured was a real thing, but it wouldn't change a thing as the season was ending anyway. Turning completely nuts being mentally sick getting into that training block ? It would be worse if I had to wait a potential next season dwelling on the past and that missed opportunity. So the answer was clear : go for it ! As an appendix, I promised myself just one thing : « Either you go #SUB10 or DNF, there won't be any in between. »
IX. Burning man festival
First things first, I had to find the perfect race matching my next possible fitness peak, an easy trip, and a way more flatter bike course. Doing the maths, I had only three races opportunities in Europe before the end of the triathlon season with Emilia-Romagna, Barcelona, or Almere-Amsterdam. With the two IronMan 140.6 franchise races being full, the only option left was Almere-Amsterdam, part of the Challenge Family series. It's the oldest European long-distance triathlon, that's known as a flat race, but dependent on the weather and the wind at that time of the season.
The race was planned on Saturday 14th of September, so that would roughly give me 7 weeks to have the body fresh enough, yet with sufficient fitness to succeed. A puzzling challenge. I went back to training with some very light sessions for a week. On Saturday 3rd of August I went for my first long endurance ride with a friend in the South of France, and it was quite brutal with a heatwave. When I got back to the car, packing the bike in the back, I was craving to death. For a minute — okay, five — I held myself to not go to the next McDonald's and instead to bring back a more healthy food routine after being through a full "IronMan after party mode" for two weeks. So on returning to home I cooked some pasta, and when i removed it from the hotplate, not focused on the action, I had a rearward movement leading to the boiling water ending up on my right foot. Ten seconds later, I could feel and see my skin melting, and I thought : « Okay this is really bad. » Burnt to the second-degree for the first time in my life, just 35 days before my #SUB10 attempt, let's talk about a sense of timing.
Did i went biking for hours with my left foot like that ? Yes. Am I completely reckless ? Yes.
Spending the afternoon at the local hospital emergency, I was more concerned about when I would be able to get back to training rather than knowing if I would lose one my toenails. The doctor said 3 weeks of total rest with complete healing before any sport. This was absolutely not possible. I worked too hard to get that close to what turned out to be an obsession. #SUB10 now clearly had a cost, and I was ready to pay the price for it.
For the next 3 days, I just tried to speed up the recovery process as much as I could, through nutrition, hydration and sleep. Then I introduced core strength for another 2 extra days. Then, on the 5th day, with a nice dose of reckless behaviour, I went back on the bike. I was lucky enough to have bike shoes of in extra size to fit the foot with the bandage inside it. To be fair it went okay, if you consider that the only mandatory thing was to avoid a crash and definitely losing my right foot. The real deal was more about the nurse coming to my house every day to apply a new bandage on the wound. With road dirt, sweat, etc., the bandage was rotten to the core each time... Needless to say she kept asking me how the heck I could destroy it that much in just 24 hours. I kept smiling back.
For the record I was completely healed in just 13 days, half the time needed for an average person, showing how much my body was used to repairing destroyed fibres with that IronMan training. This is how you turn negative into positive when you have only this left.
Getting back to swim and run, with just 3 weeks to go, tapering included, it was clear that I would not be able to get anywhere near the fitness level required. How would I succeed, then ? If I learnt anything about long-distance racing, it's that mind is everything, and the one that must control your body. Not the other way around. So that race, more than all others, would be decided somewhere deep in my brain cells. For now I just tried to at least keep my current fitness, and to avoid as much as possible a mental boom. I organised a stay in the Alps, taking on the Col de la Madeleine and the Col du Galibier with the bike, doing some trail running as well. I can say with confidence that was actually one of the happiest moments of my life for the past few years. It was just too fucking awesome.
Time flew by pretty fast, and when it was time to get through that last taper phase of the season, I went to the bike shop to get a full bike inspection. It would have been stupid to get to that point and get wrecked because of a mechanical problem right ? Hours later while in a business meeting, I got a call from the chief mechanic, his voice was trembling and he announced to me that while inflating the rear tyre, the wheel had just... exploded. Like a popcorn, literally. WOULD THAT EVER STOP FOR GOD SAKE ? I bet no one ever had that kind of thing with such a high-end pair of wheels, and it had to happen to me. 10 days before the race. I was d-o-n-e-z-o.
The next day were a hard-fought battle to get a replacement wheel, and I would finally get it mounted only 2 days prior to Challenge Almere-Amsterdam. I was really feeling like all those things weighing against me were signs warning me that it was not my time. But no one, nor anything would have prevented me to be on that start line 48 hours later. Sorry for the F-word again, but I was on a fucking mission. And i would prove it as other obstacles were still ahead of me in the next few hours.
X. Boom.
I left Paris with a close friend on the day before the race, it was not summer holidays anymore and it was impossible with my job responsibilities to leave earlier. We arrived in Almere, only 20 minutes away from Amsterdam, around 4 p.m. and went directly to the event for registration. It went pretty fast, and my first feedback was quite positive about the Challenge Family organisation. I took full advantage of the close empty hospital parking lot to fill all the transition bags; what a mess it was all around the car. Bike was parked, bags racked; it was time to head for our guesthouse for some rest.
Carrying the luggage with all my IronMan stuff on the first floor of the Airbnb, I seized up my back. Like hard. From that moment, the only position I was not in pain with was when lying on the bed. I tried Tiger balm, hot tube, massage... I was hard stuck, I could not even walk normally and for the first time since the beginning of that journey, I started to cry. It was just too much for me after all I had been through . I “slept” 3 hours that night, dreaming of a magical thing to happen, and when it was finally time to stand up at five o'clock in the morning, guess what ? It was even worse.
In that dark low, low moment, only two things still gave me the hope it could still be my day :
1. The weather was absolutely perfect, with a forecast of 20 degrees Celsius in the afternoon and just a light breeze.
2. Starting with the swim, and my body not having to absorb any shock, it could give it time to heat up, feeling the pain less with the adrenaline when i would get on the bike.
The coldish 16 degrees Celsius swim was made of two loops in Lake Almere, with a mass start for each 140.6 age group, then followed by a rolling start for the 70.3 athletes, both races taking place at the same time. So as I was expecting it to be a complete clown fiesta, at least I tried to put myself in a good position by being on the first row when the gun went off. What happens next is now part of history. My history.
Either you go #SUB10 or DNF, there won’t be any in between.
The swim was planned as an all-out war, starting straight from the first left turn just 400 metres after the start. I kept my shit together, giving back the blows, defending my position to have the most direct line possible to the next BUOY. Not an easy task when you're not the fastest swimmer out there, but this was a mass start, and I couldn't afford to lose time starting behind. The traffic went better after a kilometre or so, and I thought I could enjoy from now on my breathtakingly bad swimming skills until being out of the water. Well, nope. Halfway through the second loop, I started to feel something coming from the rear. It was the fastest swimming 70.3 athletes pack, quickly joined by the rest of the troop. For the last kilometre of the swim, I was like in downtown L.A. traffic at its busiest rush hour. I tried at least to catch up and draft with some of them passing me, but the rhythm was just too fast for me even for such a short distance. It would have been pointless to win a minute when the real fight was just around that last BUOY turn. For the last 100 metres, I kicked my legs as much as I could to get the blood flow in, but it was apparently not enough as I got a solid cramp on the first metres of the transition. I stopped running and walked instead to the changing tent. As the floor was made of wood, it was very slippery and removing the swimsuit while standing on one leg suddenly turned into a challenge in itself. I lost some extra time putting on an arms warmer as the morning was quite chilly at 13 degrees Celsius or so around that time. Getting on the bike, pushing the lap button to end the transition, I checked the overall time : 1:20:55. I was on pace.
Would it be enough with my back situation ? Adrenaline did its job and even though I could feel the pain, it was sustainable at that point, with something more important to deal with in the first instance. To join the two loops of the Challenge Almere-Amsterdam bike course, you had to go through a small forest for 2 kilometres. As the sun was hidden by the trees, and the humidity quite high, I was really freezing despite wearing two tri-suits, one on top of the other. I had to grit my teeth for almost half an hour before feeling my clothes drying and the temperature rising up.
As I didn't have any time to recognize the course prior to the race, I was discovering it as I was riding. Total distance was 180.06 kilometres— finally a true long distance — with a total elevation of... 116 metres. You read it right : 116 metres. Reading only the numbers, you would think it was a highway to a personal record. In fact, it was true if you were able to deal with two conditions : being aero, and never stopping pedalling. There was absolutely no downhill for coasting and getting some rest, or any uphill to stand on the pedals to shake up the body a bit. I spent 99% of the time in aero position spinning to keep the bike moving. It was exactly like being on a home trainer. Gosh that was challenging, either both mentally and physically.
The first loop was okay because we were mixed with 70.3 athletes, so it was helpful to keep in sight some people pushing on the pedals. But on the second loop, I was really on my own with no one 200 metres ahead and no one 300 metres behind. When you have someone 15 or 20 metres in front of you with a similar level, you can just go on auto-pilot and keep the distance; but in that case, it's all about focusing on your own power output. For hours. I remember being around the 115-kilometre mark on the longest straight part of the course, about 25 kilometres long ! It was looking endless, and I knew it was the key moment of the race. I was feeling tired, knowing I still had to ride alone for 2 more hours with no one around to cheer, and some evil thoughts started to play in my head like « this is too difficult bro, you're not even halfway through the race, why you just don't stop, sit down. No one care at the end of the day if you don't succeed. » It was an interesting discussion between me, myself and I to not give up, a bit like in a cartoon when you have an angel and a devil whispering in your ears. More seriously, I was exactly in the spot I was expecting ahead of the race considering my lack of fitness level. Now was the moment to decide : would my mind win the battle over the body ?
My mind wanted to breakthrough more than my body wanted to stop. And so I kept flying to that last part of the bike leg to keep up with a mandatory target : starting the marathon with 3h30 ahead of me. The last few hundred metres were next to the run course, and with all the 70.3 athletes already competing on it, I was starting to realize that I was now only 42 kilometres away from my holy grail. Stopping my GPS unit just before jumping off the bike on the dismounting line, I checked the screen just to smile like a dumb :
- First loop - 2:32:42
- Second loop - 2:34:18
- Total time - 05:06:32
Tic tac tic tac... Metronome, fuck yeah. Smooth and fast transition, out of the changing tent, checking the watch... 6:29:47 since the gun went off meaning 3:30:13 left. Tic tac tic tac... Metronome, fuck yeah.
Endless straight lines and flat course made up the perfect combination for mental strength testing at Challenge Almere-Amsterdam.
I still had to close the book with a worthy marathon conclusion. Now that I already faced the distance only a few weeks ago, I knew what to expect from it. But most of all, I knew i could deliver a solid performance on my favourite discipline despite the fatigue. So way ahead of the race, the strategy was to go full banzai mode on the first half marathon, and then to handle the #SUB10 time gap depending on my form. No metronome there. I would stick to that plan, on a course looking more like a Formula One circuit with six loops to do. Yes, five times passing only a few metres away from the finish line and still having to keep fighting for your life. This is an indescribable sadism, mister organizer. The path was traced around the swim-part lake, and almost completely flat apart from a short hill. For a good part of the first 10 kilometres, I stuck with a professional woman pacing her effort really well. Then I found the whole thing to be boring, and did my best Eliud Kipchoge impersonation to cross the 21.1 kilometre mark in 1:36:30 — 4:35/km. At that moment, I knew. With 17 minutes ahead of my #SUB10 dream, I knew I couldn't blow it up anymore apart for an unexpected injury. Being euphoric, I still didn't forget that I had to respect the distance, the race being over only when you cross the line. I had to run that last half marathon, but it wouldn't be in the same mood.
I suddenly stopped caring about speed, pace, possible outcome. I instead started to enjoy the moment, and it was the very first time it happened in a year. I did everything I couldn't do when I was chasing the time on all my other races. Supporting athletes walking, cheering for the ones overpassing me, joking with supporters, and the most important : clapping hands for all the volunteers out there. I was feeling that this would probably never happen again in my life so I took advantage of every single second, and oh boy I enjoyed it so much ! 😍
A lifetime achievement. I still can't believe it !
Finally the last 7 kilometre loop arrived, I felt a bit of pain in my right calf due to my swim morning cramp, and I was somehow feeling the blues to know that my IronMan journey was coming to an end in a few minutes. I rang the bell on the side of the road 500 metres before the red carpet — a tradition at Challenge Almere-Amsterdam for all the athletes in their last loop — and it was finally time to have all these sacrifices and efforts rewarded. Entering the red carpet after a sky-rocketed 3:24:48 marathon, I started to walk for the first time ever on a triathlon, just to enjoy a little bit more every of those last single steps. One athlete arrived also around that moment, and tried to push me forward to cross the line faster. I looked at him and I straight told him to fuck off. If he ever manage to read this, I feel sorry, but who the heck are you to tell me what to do ?
As I crossed the line — walking, I roared as much as I could. 09:54:48. #SUB10 athlete for the eternity on my first year of triathlon. Boom.
XI. And now ?
I took 3 weeks completely off straight after; that was the least I could give back to my body after everything it was kind enough to offer to me. Not talking of my back that went back to stuck mode for a couple of days once the adrenaline left my body. Having no more morning and evening sport routine — I forgot how much free time you could have in a single day — I thought a lot about what could happen next. Some very decent athletes came to me just to push me through a possible Kona qualification process, and I felt honoured to be considered that high. But it was enough. I've gone through many challenges, and knowing how fast time is passing by, I wanted to face some other things life has to offer. So as I don't know what in-between means, I took the decision to stop triathlon. Will that last forever ? I truly don't know, but if I ever happen to come back, it will be to clinch that Worlds spot indeed. For now, I will focus on the running with the challenge of qualifying for Boston Marathon in 2020 with a 02:40:00 marathon time — or better; who knows ?
To conclude and getting back to my chapter introduction, you now understand why I thought it was important to share all these personal details with you. Reading this over again before publishing it, I can confidently say my success is probably 70% hard work, the rest being 30% stubborn dedication. Like every time I gave a shot to something in my life, I was that guy who didn't know when to stop, just putting it all out there every single time.
Your turn.