Suicidal morning
3am. Alarm goes off. Only one thought in my head : I seriously have no desire to race. My head is just not in the racing mode at all. In fact, I need to move back to Malaysia very soon. People are always afraid of change and so do I. By moving back to Malaysia, my life is uprooted. Anxiety about the future is inevitable. Plus moving is always a headache. Just so much stuff to think about and so much to sell or give away. I tend to give meaning to inanimate objects that I own. So losing stuff that I owned is heartbreaking, especially my two beloved bikes.
Unprepared mind is the worst when going into a long endurance race. I signed up for the race straight away after I got to know about the race in May without much thinking. My thought was : sign up first, plan later. I thought it could be a perfect ending for my stay in France and to my triathlon "career" since my first triathlon was also in Annecy. I initially thought it could be fun, but not recently anymore. In fact, all the training I did in September felt more like a job to me rather than enjoyment.
Unprepared mind is the worst when going into a long endurance race. I signed up for the race straight away after I got to know about the race in May without much thinking. My thought was : sign up first, plan later. I thought it could be a perfect ending for my stay in France and to my triathlon "career" since my first triathlon was also in Annecy. I initially thought it could be fun, but not recently anymore. In fact, all the training I did in September felt more like a job to me rather than enjoyment.
The fact that this is the very first edition of Alpsman, there is no previous results to refer to nor testimony of how hard it is. There is just no way to visualize the course. All I know is the distance and the monstrous amount of climbing. 3.8k of swim which is supposed to be the easiest part, 183k of bike with a total of 4300m of climbing, and finally a marathon. There are also two finish lines : one is up at Semnoz for participants who manage to reach the 27k point of the marathon before 6pm to become Top Finisher ; and another one beside the Lake Annecy for everyone else to become Lake Finisher. That means to become Top Finisher, one has to do an extra 1300m of climbing on foot which makes a total of 5600m in the end! Just to put the cycling part of Alpsman into perspective, 183k of cycling with 4300m of climbing can already be crowned as the queen stage of a Tour de France!
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| I am number four.....forty six. |
There are only 127 participants. I knew I was in deep shit when I lined up to get my bib. I saw all these triathletes with their super well-built body, and I mean all of them. Me ending up last is highly probable. I always try to avoid any motivational quote or the word "life" in my posts because I don't want to be too preachy. I put one only if my action matches up to the quote. For Alpsman I think I am allowed say : it is still a battle worth fighting even though it is a losing battle. It is absurd, I know. But I will be really sad if I never give it a try.
The struggle itself is enough to fill a man's heart.
Albert Camus, The Myth of Sisyphus
The longest swim of my life
5am. Transition area. Bike checked, wet suit on, and boarding the boat. In my mind, I run through the transition step by step. Even though, everything is set to go, I still think I miss out something. Nervous is common, especially you are under-prepared in front of a daunting challenge, and alone.
The swim is going to start by jumping off the boat at the middle of the lake, imitating the swim start of Norseman. On board of the boat and a sea of darkness. The main concern of all participants is the visibility of the markers. There are supposed to be five illuminated cubes of 1.5m and plenty of buoys to guide us during the 3.8k swim. When the boat passes near by one of those cubes, everyone tries to get a glimpse at it. Troubled when I see it. The cube is just not as huge and as bright as I thought it would be.
5.45am. The moment of truth. Everybody lines up to jump into the lake. I am reluctant but there is no turning back. The water is announced at 18°C and pitch black. I have never seen Lake Annecy as terrifying before. People are fear of the unknown and this can't be more true at this moment. A leap of faith literally.
As normal, I stay behind the crowd to avoid the super competitive and chaotic front. 6am. sharp, the boat blows the horn. The race starts and a tough day ahead is promised. At first I try follow the crowd in front of me. But then athletes at the front take off so fast it becomes impossible for me to keep up with them anymore. At some point, I can see nobody anymore and my worry has become the reality : I can't see any marker at all. The cubes are blended together with the lampposts and lights from the villages around the lake, making things worst. There are supposed to be people on kayaks who are supposed to guide us but I can't see any of them either.
Left behind with no reference point, no idea where to head to, I have to take a guess, guess which light I think is the marker cube. Towards a chosen point, I swim and swim for what feels like an eternity, and yet I find nobody. I seriously think I am dead last and the organizer has forgotten about me. While I refuse to admit it, deep down I know I am lost. Six in the morning, the sun is not out yet. Lost in the middle of the lake alone, shore is at least a few kilometers away from me. It certainly feels like I am the sole survivor of a shipwreck. The longer I swim, it turns more and more into a matter of survival.
The only thing that can probably guide me is my vague mental image of the general shape of the lake. I know the lake is more or less an elongated rectangle. Judging by the silhouette of the lights alongside the lake, I think I know with some certainty where Annecy is more or less situated. My thought is if I continue swimming towards the direction of Annecy, I should pass by St. Jorioz where the swim is supposed to end.
There, I continue to swim. The only thing I worry about the most is exhaustion. I don't have a watch, so I don't know how long I have been swimming. Finally a flash of hope as I meet another participant. What a relieve to know that I am not the last and I am not the only one who got lost. We have a short discussion, and together we head towards a light source that, again we are not sure if it is the right direction. The tricky thing is, even we find a buoy by chance, we still are not sure if it is a marker or random buoy on the lake. The light source turns out to be false beacon. Again?! At this point, I have already lost count of how many times I have changed direction.
Daybreak. At last I can see more and more swimmers and kayakers, and also the end - St. Jorioz. However, the wind picks up speed and the water surface becomes really rough, making the final 800m or so extra tough. When I get out of the water, my legs are so weak that I am not able to run. Although wetsuit is still on, long exposure in 18°C water and with the cold wind, I shiver my way into the transition zone.
The moment I see the time, devastation! I have used 2 hours and 15 mins for the swim! Under normal circumstances, I should complete the 3.8k swim within 90mins. Taking into account of all the directional changes, I must have at least swam 5k! This revelation is like receiving an uppercut by Mike Tyson, all hope is shattered. Sitting in the transition zone, I am just in a state of utter disbelief.
One participant has chosen to quit straight after the swim, which is very rare in any triathlon. Nevertheless, the other participants who came out of the water the same time as me keep pressing on. Seeing them, I press on too. I put on two layers as the heavy rain is coming very soon, judging by the angry clouds above all of us. I am the last one out of the transition zone as I am having trouble changing because of all the shivering.
Here starts the beginning of the end.
5.45am. The moment of truth. Everybody lines up to jump into the lake. I am reluctant but there is no turning back. The water is announced at 18°C and pitch black. I have never seen Lake Annecy as terrifying before. People are fear of the unknown and this can't be more true at this moment. A leap of faith literally.
As normal, I stay behind the crowd to avoid the super competitive and chaotic front. 6am. sharp, the boat blows the horn. The race starts and a tough day ahead is promised. At first I try follow the crowd in front of me. But then athletes at the front take off so fast it becomes impossible for me to keep up with them anymore. At some point, I can see nobody anymore and my worry has become the reality : I can't see any marker at all. The cubes are blended together with the lampposts and lights from the villages around the lake, making things worst. There are supposed to be people on kayaks who are supposed to guide us but I can't see any of them either.
Left behind with no reference point, no idea where to head to, I have to take a guess, guess which light I think is the marker cube. Towards a chosen point, I swim and swim for what feels like an eternity, and yet I find nobody. I seriously think I am dead last and the organizer has forgotten about me. While I refuse to admit it, deep down I know I am lost. Six in the morning, the sun is not out yet. Lost in the middle of the lake alone, shore is at least a few kilometers away from me. It certainly feels like I am the sole survivor of a shipwreck. The longer I swim, it turns more and more into a matter of survival.
The only thing that can probably guide me is my vague mental image of the general shape of the lake. I know the lake is more or less an elongated rectangle. Judging by the silhouette of the lights alongside the lake, I think I know with some certainty where Annecy is more or less situated. My thought is if I continue swimming towards the direction of Annecy, I should pass by St. Jorioz where the swim is supposed to end.
There, I continue to swim. The only thing I worry about the most is exhaustion. I don't have a watch, so I don't know how long I have been swimming. Finally a flash of hope as I meet another participant. What a relieve to know that I am not the last and I am not the only one who got lost. We have a short discussion, and together we head towards a light source that, again we are not sure if it is the right direction. The tricky thing is, even we find a buoy by chance, we still are not sure if it is a marker or random buoy on the lake. The light source turns out to be false beacon. Again?! At this point, I have already lost count of how many times I have changed direction.
Daybreak. At last I can see more and more swimmers and kayakers, and also the end - St. Jorioz. However, the wind picks up speed and the water surface becomes really rough, making the final 800m or so extra tough. When I get out of the water, my legs are so weak that I am not able to run. Although wetsuit is still on, long exposure in 18°C water and with the cold wind, I shiver my way into the transition zone.
The moment I see the time, devastation! I have used 2 hours and 15 mins for the swim! Under normal circumstances, I should complete the 3.8k swim within 90mins. Taking into account of all the directional changes, I must have at least swam 5k! This revelation is like receiving an uppercut by Mike Tyson, all hope is shattered. Sitting in the transition zone, I am just in a state of utter disbelief.
One participant has chosen to quit straight after the swim, which is very rare in any triathlon. Nevertheless, the other participants who came out of the water the same time as me keep pressing on. Seeing them, I press on too. I put on two layers as the heavy rain is coming very soon, judging by the angry clouds above all of us. I am the last one out of the transition zone as I am having trouble changing because of all the shivering.
Here starts the beginning of the end.
Etape du tour
In any regular grand tour, the cycling part of Alpsman would have been dubbed as the queen stage. Why? 183km with 4300m of total climbing, 5 mountain passes including one HC climb up to Semnoz and 4 category-two climbs. Broken by the unexpectedly strenuous swim, I am not looking forward to what lies ahead. The hope of finishing is very slim already but I press on. This is a rare character-defining opportunity, I keep telling myself. No matter what, I must at least show my determination so that when I go to sleep tonight, I can say to myself : I had tried.
The last place is not a funny position to be in. It requires a totally different mental state. A van is following me as they needs to sweep the race course after everyone has passed through. Every pit stop I pass by, they are packing up while waiting for me. Although the organizers and the volunteers are very helpful and friendly, I can't help but to think that I am bogging them down, putting some sort of pressure onto myself.
The route to Col de Leschaux is relatively simple. The slope stays around 4 to 5%, allowing my legs and my body to warm up after the cold swim. I am surprised that I am still able to take over one participant. I am so happy that I am no longer the last one, lifting the pressure off myself. Unfortunately it is short-live. He quits soon after I overtakes him, says the driver of the sweeping van. I am the last one, again...
After that, here comes the HC climb of the day : Semnoz. It starts out easy and gradually becomes unforgiving. Slowly but never stop, by the time I reach the top, it is already around 11h30. It is rewarded by a breathtaking view. It is either Semnoz is really near Mont Blanc or Mont Blanc is really huge. When I turn my head around at the top and BOOM! Mont Blanc with its snowy coat suddenly appears and occupies three third of the view.
A long descent and a long flat later, at around 12h30, I reach Lescheraines pit stop. From here I need to do two 50k-laps, passing through Col de Plainpalais and Col de Pres twice. The idea of giving up is omnipresent ever since I got out of the water. Seeing many participants already doing their second lap, disappointed and exhausted, I stop there for quite a while, hesitating whether to quit. I know very well I won't be able to finish it, but I will regret it if I quit here. So again, I press on.
Riding up Col de Plainpalais, I finally know how strong the other participants really are. They are doing their second lap, yet still able to look fresher than me. Countless overtake me with relative ease. Not long after the climb, the awaited rain hits and it hits hard. While the rain is welcome during the ascend, it is extremely cold during the descent. Wet road surface, shivering, the descent is not fun at all.
Although they both are second-category climbs, the gradient of Col de Près is way more challenging. During the climb, the cold rain hitting my face, my head is down and I grind and grind. The cutoff time for the bike is pushed to 19h00, but there is still no way I can finish it in time. By the time I reach Col de Près, it is already over 15h00.
Perhaps it is just me or the temperature is really dropping. The continuous rain and wind hitting my face to the point that I can't feel it anymore. My shoes is soaking wet and my toes are non-existent. My gloves and my fingers are the same too. My whole body is basically shaking out of control. Steering the bike during the descent is becoming dangerously harder and harder. I am in the red zone for way too long by now, physically and mentally. The cold descent of Col de Près is the tipping point. The race finally breaks me. Finally, I tap out.
The road of giving up isn't easy either. Skipping the second lap and at the pit stop Le Châtelard, I am instructed to cycle back to the transition zone in St. Jorioz anyway. After deciding to quit, the mind is shut down and simply unwilling to pedal anymore. Although it is only a small climb back to Col de Leschaux, it feels like torturing. After that, again, I shiver all the way down back to St. Jorioz. Then I walk towards a referee and he gives out the word : number 46 has chosen to abandon the race.
The route to Col de Leschaux is relatively simple. The slope stays around 4 to 5%, allowing my legs and my body to warm up after the cold swim. I am surprised that I am still able to take over one participant. I am so happy that I am no longer the last one, lifting the pressure off myself. Unfortunately it is short-live. He quits soon after I overtakes him, says the driver of the sweeping van. I am the last one, again...
After that, here comes the HC climb of the day : Semnoz. It starts out easy and gradually becomes unforgiving. Slowly but never stop, by the time I reach the top, it is already around 11h30. It is rewarded by a breathtaking view. It is either Semnoz is really near Mont Blanc or Mont Blanc is really huge. When I turn my head around at the top and BOOM! Mont Blanc with its snowy coat suddenly appears and occupies three third of the view.
A long descent and a long flat later, at around 12h30, I reach Lescheraines pit stop. From here I need to do two 50k-laps, passing through Col de Plainpalais and Col de Pres twice. The idea of giving up is omnipresent ever since I got out of the water. Seeing many participants already doing their second lap, disappointed and exhausted, I stop there for quite a while, hesitating whether to quit. I know very well I won't be able to finish it, but I will regret it if I quit here. So again, I press on.
Riding up Col de Plainpalais, I finally know how strong the other participants really are. They are doing their second lap, yet still able to look fresher than me. Countless overtake me with relative ease. Not long after the climb, the awaited rain hits and it hits hard. While the rain is welcome during the ascend, it is extremely cold during the descent. Wet road surface, shivering, the descent is not fun at all.
Although they both are second-category climbs, the gradient of Col de Près is way more challenging. During the climb, the cold rain hitting my face, my head is down and I grind and grind. The cutoff time for the bike is pushed to 19h00, but there is still no way I can finish it in time. By the time I reach Col de Près, it is already over 15h00.
Perhaps it is just me or the temperature is really dropping. The continuous rain and wind hitting my face to the point that I can't feel it anymore. My shoes is soaking wet and my toes are non-existent. My gloves and my fingers are the same too. My whole body is basically shaking out of control. Steering the bike during the descent is becoming dangerously harder and harder. I am in the red zone for way too long by now, physically and mentally. The cold descent of Col de Près is the tipping point. The race finally breaks me. Finally, I tap out.
The road of giving up isn't easy either. Skipping the second lap and at the pit stop Le Châtelard, I am instructed to cycle back to the transition zone in St. Jorioz anyway. After deciding to quit, the mind is shut down and simply unwilling to pedal anymore. Although it is only a small climb back to Col de Leschaux, it feels like torturing. After that, again, I shiver all the way down back to St. Jorioz. Then I walk towards a referee and he gives out the word : number 46 has chosen to abandon the race.
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| "Number 46 has chosen to abandon the race, I repeat", says referee. |
The defeated pioneers
Back to the hotel. It is time to make peace with myself the fact that I didn't make it. It is always hard to deal with failure. Even I know for the fact that there are many participants who quit, even it is not my first failure, even I know I already did my best, it is still sad to see all the effort amounts to a "Did not Finish" (DNF).
Like as said in Vsauce's video Mistakes : "Failure is like a carving on the bark of a tree. Overtime the scar won't go away ... but it won't get bigger. You however can keep growing... The wound won't get smaller but you can make it a smaller part of who you are." I guess it would be sadder if I never walked out of the hotel room and tried the race out this morning.
One can easily blame the organizer for the terrible swim course, or the bad weather. But honestly, I am unprepared and simply not tough enough to become Alpsman this time. Considering this is the first Alpsman, to some extend, the lack of experience on the part of the organizer is understandable. The final result : 34 top finishers, 51 lake finishers, 5 absences, 37 DNF. The winner did it in 12 hours 21 mins and the last finisher did it in 18 hours and 46 mins. Through my experience in multiple triathlon races, over 29% of DNF is huge. It just shows how ruthless that day was. For all finishers, I salute you, you earn the title Alpsman. And for everyone else who failed, we are still the pioneers of Alpsman. We failed but we failed under gruesome conditions of epic proportions.
One can easily blame the organizer for the terrible swim course, or the bad weather. But honestly, I am unprepared and simply not tough enough to become Alpsman this time. Considering this is the first Alpsman, to some extend, the lack of experience on the part of the organizer is understandable. The final result : 34 top finishers, 51 lake finishers, 5 absences, 37 DNF. The winner did it in 12 hours 21 mins and the last finisher did it in 18 hours and 46 mins. Through my experience in multiple triathlon races, over 29% of DNF is huge. It just shows how ruthless that day was. For all finishers, I salute you, you earn the title Alpsman. And for everyone else who failed, we are still the pioneers of Alpsman. We failed but we failed under gruesome conditions of epic proportions.
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