Among Ironman races, the world championship is unique. First, you have to qualify, so most people in the race will probably be reasonably fast. But the whole dynamic of the event is also different, as it’s not just a couple of days, it’s a full week of celebration where the industry convenes in one place, pro athletes are accessible at conferences, there are "fun runs," training swims, a parade of athletes by nations, banquets, …

So, ahead of the Sunday race, Leslie and I drove to Nice on Wednesday to get more of the whole race-week experience. After all, you only partake in your first IMWC once!

And were we handsomely rewarded. Thursday was a lot of fun running around Nice and taking it all in. I got to meet some of the fastest pros, geek out on all sorts of über-expensive equipment, buy all sorts of swag that say “I was there” … Since my first long-distance tri in 2009, qualifying for the world championship has always been a benchmark of performance, and now I was experiencing it. Walking on a little cloud all day Thursday, we capped it all with a nice dinner.

And then I got food poisoning.

A bad one, too.

Really bad.

“What-the-hell-just-hit-me, I-must-be-on-the-Borgias-hit-list” kind of bad. Now just 1.5 days ahead of race start I was in bed having to muster my strength to successfully turn over under the cover …

Getting to the start line

Finding my name in the participant list; I guess we're really doing this thing! Nice, 11 September 2025. Photo credit: Leslie Farnsworth.

Going to the world championship in Hawaï isn’t my dream. Qualifying has been important, but spending a small fortune to fly across the world (with all the toys that this sport requires) to go hang out in lava fields with other middle-aged white dudes with an inferiority complex and something to prove? Nope. I’d rather spend that money on a new bike (more toys!).

Offering unsolicited advice, "Listen, Blu, this is how you win this thing …" Nice, 11 September 2025. Photo credit: Leslie Farnsworth.

But a couple of years ago, the Ironman group started to experiment, alternating the location of the world championship between Hawaï and Nice. I qualified for the first one in 2023 but didn’t take the slot. In the spring of 2025, while I was training for the regular Ironman France in June (in Nice, on pretty much the same course), the IM group announced that September 2025 would be the last time the IMWC would be held away from Hawaï. That motivated me. I figured if I qualified again, I’d take the slot. And I did, with a slow but high-enough 6th in my age group.

The battle of the Chevaliers. Well, not really a battle. There's a fast Chevalier—Léon—and yours truly. Nice, 11 September 2025. Photo credit: Leslie Farnsworth.

This long-distance triathlon sport is a pretty selfish one. I train maybe an average of two hours per day over the year and, coupled to a fascinating but demanding job, that squeezes out a lot of other things. Leslie is wonderful, letting me train as much as I want, and the little I do in counterpart amounts to scheduling just one IM race per year and doing it in June, ahead of the summer break, so that our summer time remains family time.

So, IMWC was always going to be a victory lap. Having raced late June, I did maintenance over the summer—primarily keeping my run volume around 50 to 60km per week but dropping my bike and swim volumes while we were suffering through horrible parts of France—Ardèche, Périgord noir, Provence …

I re-amped all volumes in the final weeks ahead of the race but with IMD getting back into full speed, there was only so much training. I made notes—actual notes—that success was to have a good time and not, you know, finish in a good time. Take it easy, life is good. You’re off to the French Riviera in September; why not focus on that?

Meeting the über-great and über-nice Craig Alexander. Nice, 11 September 2025. Photo credit: Leslie Farnsworth.

We drove down on Wednesday. On Thursday, I gave a bunch of unsolicited advice to important people, meeting some of the fellas I’ve hear of for the past twenty years, like three-time Ironman world champion Craig Alexander.

The parade of nations had athletes walking down the Promenade des Anglais by country, and it was a lot of fun! Nice, 11 September 2025.

We also treated ourselves. Having been in Nice just a few weeks ago, we had our favorite restaurants. One of them, in particular, we went to on Wednesday evening. And then again on Thursday evening. We came home and had an early night.

The French delegation wasn't the noisiest one at the parade of nations, but get us to start the Marseillaise and we'll really get into that thing! Nice, 11 September 2025. Photo credit: Leslie Farnsworth.

At 1am on Friday I woke up feeling that something was definitely off with my stomach. I rushed to the bathroom, which I proceeded to visit on and off for the next 14 hours. Oh, boy.

By late morning, there was no marked improvement. At this stage I started tracking how confident I was to make it to the start line; then I was 99% sure I wouldn’t start (DNS).

On Friday afternoon, things started to get better. By then Leslie had secured some help from a local pharmacist and the worst of the GI issues was gone. But I was still completely drained. We had planned to go to opening banquet on Friday night. Yeah, right. I never left the room (DNS<80%).

My coach François was wisely advising to prioritize my health. “Stating the obvious, but don’t do anything that might have long-term consequences.” And, yes, that sounds obvious, but you should try to see how a triathlete gets tunnel vision ahead of a race, so François’ outside perspective was invaluable.

Training on Friday. 36h ahead of race start, I'm not feeling entirely optimal! Nice, 12 September 2025. Photo credit: Leslie Farnsworth.

Luckily, Saturday was better. I woke up and went for an easy run. As in, 3km at super easy pace. I was tired, I felt weak, but I wasn’t sick. DNS at 30%.

While out there, I ran into John, whom I hadn’t seen since some ride in Houston ages ago. That was fun! Then Leslie and I went for breakfast at the Boscolo. I was nauseous but I could eat stuff.

Bumping into John while on my last training run Nice, 13 September 2025.

I went for the scheduled ride after that. I was not in great shape, but I was functional. DNS at 10%. I skipped the plan swim, as this was enough activity for a day, and I spent the rest of it preparing my nutrition, dropping off the bike in transition, and keeping my legs up.

Nutrition wise, I was planning on doing something similar to June: On the bike, 15 Maurten gels (160) with 40g of carbohydrates each for a total of 600g plus three bottles with Maurten 320 for an additional 240g. I had experimented in getting two M320 in a single bottle on one of my training rides but the taste gets extreme, and I figured my stomach would not be able to handle it. In fact, I’d be happy if it handled the 840g already planned. On the run, do as usual: rely on the course nutrition, primarily Coke.

We went for pizza on Saturday night (Caruso, in the old town). The food was a little upsetting, but I needed to replenish. Irrespective, I was functional. DNS at 5%.

Dropping off the bike in transition. 13 September 2025. Photo credit: FinisherPix with expert porta John removal from François Modave.

Going to bed on Saturday night, it was still unclear whether the race would be wetsuit legal (wetsuits are made of neoprene, which gives you added buoyancy, but they are only allowed if the water temperature is less than 24.4ºC; the last readings I had seen were 24.7ºC). But having done the swim sans wetsuit in June, the pressure was low. In fact, it looked like I had a decent chance of starting and that’s the only thing I cared about.

The night was decent enough, which is never a given ahead of race day. I woke up at 5h15 to the news that wetsuits were not allowed. I had my regular breakfast—oatmeals, chia, berry, nuts, and yogurt mix—and that didn’t upset my stomach. Small victories for the win! I put on my race number tattoos, grabbed my nutrition, and shortly after Leslie joined the “zombie march” of half-awake-yet-anxious athletes and their entourages making their way to transition.

Race morning's silent procession towards the start. Nice, 14 September 2025. Photo credit: Leslie Farnsworth.

Swim – 1h24m29s – 2m13/100m

The transition and swim start areas are closed off so that only athletes can access them. So it took a bit of work for Leslie and I to coordinate. In transition, I did some final preps on the bike—setup the Garmin, check the tire pressures, load the nutrition … I also had meant to use this time to drink some calories, and I had a M320 bottle for that, but my stomach seemed to disagree, so I didn't insist.

I found Leslie next to the swim-start area, got my last good-luck kiss, and retreated to the swim start area. A few minutes later, I watched the pros get the real show on the way.

This is a "world championship" in the sense that we get to compete on the same course and on the same day as the absolute best in the word. But I knew I'd see very little of them. Still, witnessing their start and, for that matter, pretty much their entire swim, was such a treat.

The pros started at 07h05 and were followed every 5 minutes by a wave of age-groupers. My age group, M50–54 was the penultimate one, starting at 07h55.

Age groupers trading water at the swim start. Nice, 14 September 2025. Photo credit: FinisherPix.

Now, it was pretty cool to see the absolute best in the world toe the start line and get their show on the way. All the more since this field was one of the most-stacked one ever. (Not that you can tell in the water from where we were, but bear with me.)

After that exciting bit, I re-focused internally, and realized that my Polar watch somehow didn’t have a triathlon sport profile setup. It had one in June, but not today. Bloody hell. This one is (kind of) on me, as I should have checked that before race morning. But come on, Polar, how did that happen? Ok, no problem. I’d do the splits manually. It would take a bit of thinking during transitions, but fine.

The waves continued to go at five minute intervals, and soon there were only three age groups left.

The 44–49 youngsters were five minutes in front of my group, wearing yellow caps. The final age group to start, the wise and experimented M55–60, were five minutes behind, in green caps (there were age groups beyond 60 but those had gone already; Ironman's logic for ordering swim waves remains an enigma for this engineer).

A couple of minutes before my send off time, I went into the water for another first: a deep-water start. In all my previous races we were on the beach when the gun went off and we ran into the water. Here, we were trading water until the gun released us. Which soon happened. I heard the gun, and starting moving forward with a bit of smile on, as I had reached my first (revised) goal, start the 2025 IMWC!

Having swum very little since June, I knew my swim time would be pretty bad. I just wanted to survive it. I tried to find a good set of feet that I could draft off of and focused on my technique. No effort, just getting it done. My FORM goggles were giving me pace estimates in real time and that was informative but, really, the goal was just to get to the bike.

All told, the swim was fairly uneventful. The waved start meant that there was less contact than in recent races. It got a little rough when some of the fast green caps caught up with us. During one of those, I banged my right ring finger against a fellow competitor, just like in June, and spent the rest of the day wondering if I had re-broken it. (Seating here almost a week after, it's still a bit swollen and painful but not major hindrance. The biggest issue was not being able to high-five spectators on the run course. 😁)

Oh, and since we're talking about the fast swimmers in M55-59. John was not just one of those fast one, he was the fastest swimmer in his age group!. At the world championship! That’s just nuts! Well done, mate!

Exiting the swim course. Nice, 14 September 2025. Photo credit: FinisherPix.

There was a little swell picking up as we made our way through the course but nothing to write home about. I had a slow swim, but it was behind me. So, getting out of transition, I was all smiles. Step 1, complete.

Exiting T1. Life is good! Nice, 14 September 2025. Photo credit: Leslie Farnsworth.

Bike – 6h45m23s – 158W AP / 178W NP

Nice’s bike course was challenging, with 2,400m of climbing over the 180 km. Also, most of the climbing occurred in the first 60 km. The first climb, Pugets, came in after 10 km. It extended for 5 km and had two short-yet-challenging sections, one at 10% and another at 15%. We climbed some 400m on that one.

The second climb, to Col de l’Ecre, was more sustained. It stretched over 20km, between makers 40 and 60, during which we gained a hair over 900m of altitude.

The last climb, up Coursegoules,  was 10 kilometers long, between markers 120 and 130, during which we gained another 350m.

Having tweaked a few things since June—including adding restraining devices to my bottle cages so that I wouldn’t eject my water bottles—I had a rough idea of how to take it. Have a more sustained power—say, 220W to 240W—on the climbs, focus on being aero on the flats, catch clean trajectories on descents.

The first 10km out of town were uneventful. It was all flat, which suited the Px, so I was moving. I got some food in, but my stomach made it clear that it wasn’t a fan of the ultra-ultra processed Maurten gels. No problem, maybe that would change.

Hitting the first climb at kilometer 10, I was able to put down 200W or so—yay!—but my stomach was shutting off. It wouldn’t let me eat gels. In hindsight, I should have taken more liquid calories than gels as I eventually made it through my three bottles … but brought home more than half the gels I had taken with me.

Being unable to fuel properly, I knew that trying to push any pace would result in a massive blowup later in the day. So I went by feel, not really going out of Z2. I climbed at around 200W on all three climbs, but kept it easy otherwise.

Going up was hard (duh!) and when we finally made it to the plateau, we had headwinds, which wasn't much easier. And then we had crosswinds, which made handling the bike challenging. The Px already has a bit of profile so coupled with a disc and a deep dish in the front it can really get buffeted in cross winds

Getting it done on the bike course. Nice, 14 September 2025. Photo credit: FinisherPix.

But when we finally moved to the flatter section of the course, the Px came into its element. I was riding low and clean and I was able to get some comparative speed. We went down a bit to Gréolières for 7km. That descent was a bit technical, but nothing as bad as what was still ahead, and then it was time for the third and last climb of the day, up Coursegoules.

Going up the Col de l'Ecre. Nice, 14 September 2025. Photo credit: FinisherPix.

You’d think that with all the climbing done, the hard part would be over. But the descent from Coursegoules is long (30 km) and requires full attention, so it was not exactly boring. I must have seen at least 12 ambulances attending riders who had crashed, some of them in very sketchy places. The course’s road surface made it challenging if you didn’t know where the potholes were—despite the organization having done a great job at spray marking them—and when you added the heavy wind and a competitive field, it was easy to overcook a turn here and there. I had one or two scares after letting my mind wander for a fraction of a second, so I was in the zone after that.

Going down to Gréolières. Nice, 14 September 2025. Photo credit: FinisherPix.

By then, my stomach had shut down. It would not take another gel. Water was fine and electrolytes too (albeit in small quantities). But since there was no liquid calories available at the aid stations, I was a bit stuck. Or so I thought. At one of the last aid stations I realized that they had Coke, and I switched to that. That seemed to go down fairly ok. In hindsight, I wished I had figured earlier that Coke was available. Oh, well.

Early in the last descent, a rattling noise developed in the Px’s fork. That was concerning. If I had a damaged front wheel or if the aerobar was getting separated that would not bode well for rallying T2. Luckily, though, I figured that it was only the between-the-arms cage mount that was coming undone and, knowing how the mounting bolt was setup, I was pretty confident that I couldn’t drop it completely. So, I just carried on, rattler and all.

The last 10 km of the bike were again playing to the Px’s advantage. As we came back in town, the wind had shifted, and we were now facing sustained headwinds, so I was glad to be able to go low and just bring it home. Which I did, and when I reached T2 with a smile, Leslie was waiting for me!

Arriving into T2, all smiles. Nice, 14 September 2025. Photo credit: Leslie Farnsworth.

Comparing the numbers to those of June, my power was a little down—average of 158W vs. 163W; normalized of 178W vs. 184W. Frankly, this is not flattering—it was only a few years ago that I could keep those numbers in the 215–225W range, but I haven’t seen such numbers since taking that job at IMD (coincidence? correlation? causation?) so that was never in the cards for this race.

Besides, my numbers were smack in Z2, where I needed to be on a less-than-ideally-fueled day if I wanted to avoid a loooong walk on the marathon.

Run – 3h31m10s – 5m01s/km – 264W AP / 267W NP

The run course is four out-and-back laps on the Promenade des Anglais. “Tu vas à l’aéroport, tu reviens, tu recommences.” Uninspiring, maybe, but fun with a lot of spectators along the way and the dramatic backdrop of the gorgeous Mediterranean mere meters away.

By the time I started my run, there was a lot of people on the course, and I tried to see if I could catch a glimpse of the pros, but they were probably done—a combination of starting almost one hour after them and having a slow swim-bike combo day.

The early minutes of running after over six hours on the bike always feel weird. I usually have to consciously slow down, otherwise I’d get into a rhythm that would have me blow up.

First lap of the run. Nice, 14 September 2025. Photo credit: FinisherPix.

The first leg out felt pretty easy but it was tailwind dominant. Sure enough, when I turned around at the airport and now faced the wind, it took some more effort to maintain the pace, but I managed, a sign that despite not fueling properly (and starting the day rather depleted), I hadn’t overcooked it.

I maintained a pretty even pace throughout the marathon (blue line). The drops correspond to aid stations. The few spikes in the second half are when I tried to incorporate some strides to up the pace a bit. Nice, 14 September 2025.

Again the comparison with June isn’t fully appropriate (in June, we competed in a heat wave), but my numbers were a little better—intensity factor of 0.88 (vs. 0.84); average power of  264W (vs. 252); normalized power of 267W (vs.257).

So, the first five kilometers don’t count. Then, there’s a bit of no-man’s land, especially when it’s a multi-lap course. You see markers along the way—15km, 25km, 35km—but those aren’t for you. Yet. They are for the next lap, and the one after, and the final one. So, the first lap can be a little mentally tough. It didn’t help that I didn’t see Leslie on that first one either, but hey.

One thing that helped was recalling four-time IM champion Chrissie Wellington talking about her mantra “Fill the unforgiving minute with 60 seconds of running.” I’ve found myself going back to it every now and then in training and multiple times on the course.

Second lap of the run. Nice, 14 September 2025. Photo credit: FinisherPix.

I tried to keep stops at aid stations as short as possible. Compared to June, where I wanted to re-hydrate at every aid station, I felt comfortable skipping some. Water, cola, ice where my go-to supplies. The water started to feel a bit uncomfortable, especially after I saw how it was supplied: Volunteers would fill buckets with water hoses and then dip smaller buckets into these buckets to finally bring the water into paper cups. Less than 3 days off some serious food poisoning, I tried not to think about that … and I was relieved to discover later in the run that there was some sparkling water available. St-Yorre! Not my favorite—les bulles sont trop fines—but this is the definition of a first-world problem if I’ve ever seen one: Not only do I have the luxury to partake in this nonsense of a sport, but there’s a bunch of people here to help me finish, and they brought not just water, but sparkling water. Except, the bubbles are too thin. The struggle is real.

So I continued trotting around and doing my mental math. It get easier after 15 km. Reaching 17 km, I only have 25 to go—that’s just a Sunday run. Reaching 19km, I’m almost halfway. Reaching 21km, I’m on the downhill side! I tried to play a bit with it, putting some strides to pick up the pace. That worked … a bit.

Reaching 24km—ah, the dreaded one. That’s where I gave up in Texas 10 years ago. Well, this would not happen today! At 30km, at the end of my third lap, I stopped by Leslie. I wanted a kiss. But she kicked my butt so hard—“Don’t stop, you’re hauling ass, you’re dropping people at each split”—that I didn’t get a kiss. Fine! Instead, I finished that lap and entered the last one.

Final lap of the run. I do look pissed, but I was just trying to tell Leslie when I would be at the finish line 😊. Nice, 14 September 2025. Photo credit: Leslie Farnsworth.

Now everyone I was passing was actually behind me, so I fed off of that. 35km, goodness, this is long. Doing some more math, “My Polar is a little short compared to the course markings, so I’ll be done before the 42km mark … oh, but no, because it’s 42.2—so. Hell, just get it done.”

37km, I’m hitting the airport one last time, now it’s just one straight line home.

39km, 3km to go. “Easy, I did one of those yesterday.”

40km, “start enjoying it, dammit! The finishing chute is short, you’d better get your endorphins starting now.”

41km, “now this is just done. I’ve done this thing.”

42km, I exit the multi-loop part, making a right turn to follow the “to finish line” arrow, and then the finisher chute. “Oh, look at that, they have a really thick carpet on the floor, not your traditional Ironman one, and the finish is even elevated; how fancy!” and then, that finish line.

Getting down that finisher chute—this is it! Nice, 14 September 2025. Photo credit: Leslie Farnsworth.

I’m done. Hell yeah.

And done. At some point I'll learn to raise my arms at the end of a race, but I guess that wasn't it. Nice, 14 September 2025. Photo credit: FinisherPix.

So what?

At 11h55m00s, this was my slowest Ironman ever. So, now that I'm done, of course I have mixed feelings. What if I pushed more here, or there? I'm unable to project back to two days before the race, when getting it done was far from a foregone conclusion. So, in the spirit of focusing on the process, not the outcome, a critical review of the last few days shows that I did alright. Better than alright, in fact.

The theme for this year's world championship was resilience (but spelled the French way, "résilience") for extra exotic effect. That had me rolling my eyes thinking "how cheesy" for a couple of days. And yet, after my GI drama, I thought that was pretty relevant.

So, all things considered, for this one race, success meant finishing. Period.

And that, I did.

Finding the exact number of athletes is always a challenge, because Ironman publishes the number of finishers only. But, as I almost found out for myself, getting to the start line really is an integral part of the process, so I’m more interested in who entered the race (as in, paid).

All told, there were 2,535 entrants (2,314 finishers) (source), and I finished 1,212nd overall (top 50%).

Recovering post arrival. Nice, 14 September 2025. Photo credit: FinisherPix.

In my age group, there were 359 entrants (324 finishers) (source), and I finished 103rd (top 30%). 241st in the swim ("top" 67%), 156th on the bike (top 43%), and a decent run split—29th (top 8%).

I get top 50% overall; top 30% among the old-but-not-yet-super-old-M50–54 folks. I’ll take that.

And, of course, what’s most important is that I finished, because I get to wear all those overpriced t-shirts that I bought at the expo ahead of my GI troubles.

Now what?

The best thing I did the morning after the race? I took the Px to the shower and I washed it. I got rid of all the sticky stuff from gels and fluids and all the yuck. Frankly, I’ve never done this before, but it needs to become a thing. It is so nice to bring home a clean bike!

Taking care of the Px after it took care of me. Nice, 15 September 2025.

Ok, but further up, what’s on the horizon? Honestly, chill. I'm done squeezing as much training as I can week in, week out. I need a few weeks to take it easy.

I’m signed up for the Lausanne marathon in late October, but I don’t know if I want to take that seriously. We’ll see. Besides, as I’m writing these lines a few days after being back from Nice, I’m dealing with a cold. I think the body is saying enough for a while.

Equipment wise, I’ll do a few changes. On the bike, I’ll raise the bars by one cm. I’ll also reduce the tilt from 15º to 5º to see if it helps with the hip angle, especially on the left side, see if I can get more power that way while also being more comfortable, particularly in cross winds.

And racing wise? Well, there’s always Kona. <He says, smiling to himself> That place is on the other side of the globe. I have no interest to go there, especially not right now. So, nope.

Back to offering unsolicited advice, "Listen, Scott, this is how you grow your brand …". Nice, 15 September 2025. Photo credit: Leslie Farnsworth.

I actually had a chat with Ironman CEO Scott DeRue in Nice. He thinks that moving back the championship to Kona is what the community wants. That’s what the data says, he says.

I don’t doubt that that’s what the data says. I also have no doubt that Kona will fill to capacity without any trouble. But the data was collected last year, when the US was a lot more welcoming to foreigners. My feeling is that Ironman will see a drop in internationals traveling to the US. The Europeans, in particular, might turn to alternatives, like those offered by the Challenge Family. I know that I’ll seriously consider one of those for my next race; more seriously than I ever had before.

I wish the Ironman brand good. I think it’s in the hands of good stewards—the owners and the executives—who are much more devoted to the sport (as opposed to the pursuit of profit) than any I can remember since at least 25 years. But being a US brand isn’t going to help them in the coming years.

And as far as for more concrete stuff? I need to learn to focus on the process, not the outcome. Stop worrying about my pace each time I'm out training projecting what it would mean on race day. Training days come in a variety, and I need to take the slow stuff slow, the easy stuff easy. Process, not outcome. Heck, I teach this stuff. And yet. And yet.

Merci

Ironman racing has been particularly central for me this year because it’s less contained to the “Arnaud’s private stuff” zone than with previous races. Some colleagues have shown an interest in my pursuits in this nonsense—thinking of you, Amit—and some have been particularly supportive—Dalsace, you're a rockstar! To you both and Aysun, Kshipra, Albrecht, and Louis, thank you!

But I’ve also used Ironman’s challenges in my teaching, and I’ve been awed by how much support I’ve received from participants in my Advanced Management Concepts and Global Management Foundations programs. GMF1, in particular, you’re just a phenomenal bunch!

Likewise, this year's cohort of MBAs has been fantastic. I've felt your support throughout; thank you, all!

Stéphane, thanks for your ever-challenging bike courses and the nice talks we've had while scaling the Jura; let’s find some more challenging ones still (but not for the next couple of weeks)!

Paolo, thanks for changing your travel plans so that I could get to Nice one day early! We’re not going to play “what if?” scenarios, but if I had come to Nice a day after, as originally planned, I might have been sick the day before the race and wouldn’t have finished.

And, since we’re on the food poisoning topic, to Dr. Jean-Philippe Ammar-Khodja, pharmacien titulaire at the Grande Pharmacie du centre—I  can’t thank you enough!

I'm also grateful to Will, Thibault, and Thomas at TNCE for taking such good care of the Px.

Houville. In an ideal world, we would have done this one together. You’ve been with me for most of my races, there in support for the good parts—like qualifying—and the tough ones (DNF). I missed you last weekend but you were with me in spirit.

François. I blame it all on you. If you gave me training plans that were half-challenging, I’d be much faster than that! 😊 I’m grateful for your friendship and guidance over the years. You’re as good a sounding board as I could hope for, and you’re not afraid to disagree (“This got the be your worst idea so far”—talking about getting honest feedback! 😂)

Finally, my Leslie. Thank you so much for tolerating all the stresses and constraints that my juvenile pursuits in this sport place on us. Thank you for being my partner in crime in all that I do, least of which is this nonsense. You made it all possible. I love you.

Celebrating at the closing banquet ahead of heading back home. Nice, 15 September 2025.

For more

Race coverage is here, the whole 9+ hours of it 😊. If you want the highlights for age groupers, there's a 8-min version.

Craig Alexander's triathlon club—wonderfully aptly named Sansego Triathlon Club—is here.