Race Date: July 9, 2023 // Bib: 350
AG: M40–44 // Strava Links: Swim, Bike, Run
As I crossed the Atlantic from Canada to Thun, Switzerland, I was filled with a mix of anticipation and nerves. An entire year of relentless training since Ironman Canada last year (2022) has led me to this moment, standing at the foot of the Swiss Alps, ready to undertake the renowned Ironman Switzerland.
The magnificent beauty of Lake Thun and the towering Alps provided an awe-inspiring stage for the challenge that lay ahead.
Pre-Race
Arriving in Venice, Italy, earlier in the week, I was relieved to see my bike had made the journey unscathed. I then travelled by train over a few days to Thun, Switzerland.
The days before the race were enriched by new friendships. Estefan and Regula are local athletes from Bern, and their familiarisation with the course was invaluable. Two days before the race, on Friday, we embarked on an exploration with Maartje and Leon, a couple from the Netherlands, of the entire 90km loop, with an adventure filled with lessons about the course. The course was a spectacle, a testament to Switzerland's natural beauty.
Estefan was documenting race week, capturing the event's spirit in a manner that will undoubtedly be a cherished memory for years. A link to the full video is included at the end of this race report.
As the trip progressed, I was delighted to connect with fellow Canadians. The connections that form during such experiences are what make this sport incredibly rewarding for me.
The registration process went smoothly on Friday, and despite a delayed start due to morning rain, I squeezed in a swim-bike-run pre-competition on Saturday before heading to drop my bike off at transition.
The weather, however, was a wild card. The forecast swung unpredictably between thunderstorms and a temperature range of 17–33 degrees, causing me some concern. Then there was the pre-race dinner; in the absence of my usual sushi meal, I had a questionable burrito, not the ideal choice but a delicious one nonetheless.
A minor technical issue with my Di2's charging light almost sent me into a frenzy later that afternoon, but it turned out the issue was with my adapter, which wasn't allowing the proper voltage to charge. Thankfully, the hotel was able to provide a loaner which worked perfectly.
Swim
We started our swim from the recently renovated lido, a perfect jump-off point into the shallow waters of Lake Thun. The backdrop of the majestic Alps amplified the beauty of the swim start, offering a stunning view that was hard to ignore even amidst the race's intensity.
Before the official start, I squeezed in a quick 7–8 minute warm-up swim. This helped me loosen my muscles and get acclimated to the water. But as the race kicked off, I grappled with rougher conditions than I had expected. The usually serene lake was choppy, disrupting my stroke rhythm and making sighting the buoys quite tricky.
The crowded field of swimmers didn't make things any easier. With so many bodies getting jostled around, finding a clear path or getting into a comfortable drafting position was hard. I ended up colliding with a few swimmers and taking some solid hits, one right where it counts.
Plus, I swallowed quite a bit of water, causing some bloating and discomfort that unfortunately followed me into the early part of the bike ride.
Adding to these challenges, the swim course seemed a bit long. My logged swim distance came in at 4150m, which was a solid 350m over the planned 3.8km. This was reflected in my swim pace of 2:20 and a total swim time of 1:28:47. I recall looking down at my watch as I finished the swim, surprised to see that I was nearing the 1:30 mark. It made sense why I felt more fatigued than expected at this point in the race.
Thinking back, I could have done a few things differently to improve my swim. For one, I could have taken an energy gel at the start of the swim to help stave off the early fatigue. Also, a better strategic position at the swim start could have offered some good drafting opportunities.
After the vigorous swim, it was time to transition to the bike leg of the race. The transition area was approximately half a kilometre, requiring a bit of a run to grab our blue bags containing our bike gear. Interestingly, the organizers provided benches, a thoughtful addition useful for an efficient transition.
Everything went smoothly, and I was soon in my bike gear, ready to start the next phase. There was a European difference here, where we were required to wear our race bibs during the bike phase, unlike in North American races. I appreciated the distinction, understanding that every race, like its hosting culture, had unique elements.
Bike
The 180.2 km bike course was a demanding two-loop journey leading towards Spiez, through the Gürbe valley, past Berne Airport, the Gantrisch area, and finally back downhill to the transition point. Starting on the bike, I still felt somewhat unsettled from swallowing water during the swim, but I pushed through and managed to complete the first lap in roughly 2 hours and 45 minutes. This pace initially sparked hope that I might finish around the 5-hour 30-minute mark.
However, as the heat intensified on the second lap, maintaining my pace became an increasingly difficult battle. My feet started to swell, turning discomfort into pain and sparking a worry that this could seriously affect my performance. To mitigate the problem, I loosened my shoes, bringing momentary relief, but the pain resurfaced as my feet kept swelling under the blistering sun. I later discovered the temperature climbed to 36 degrees Celsius on sections of the bike course.
As a way to combat the escalating heat, I adopted the tactics of fellow athletes. I would grab water bottles at aid stations, douse myself for immediate cooling, and discard them before reaching the litter zones. This strategy effectively managed the heat, helping regulate my body temperature.
In preparing for the race, I had pre-emptively starred the hilly bike segments on Strava. This preparation paid off, providing an invaluable reference for each hill's length and allowing me to manage my energy output effectively. I excelled during these uphill challenges, passing many competitors and gaining a personal victory amidst the gruelling course.
However, the downhill segments were a different story. I am naturally less confident speeding downhill, and this caution was reinforced when I nearly skidded out in a no-aero zone. This unnerving incident made me more cautious for the remainder of the race.
A surprising aspect of the race was the language barrier. Participating in a race where most communication wasn't in English was an alien yet exhilarating experience. Spectators and competitors shouted encouragements or directions in a flurry of languages I didn't understand.
However, the recurring chant "Ole, Ole" resonated with its universal enthusiasm. This initially disorienting experience soon became a source of motivation, the energy of the race transcending language barriers. This shared spirit became a beacon, pushing me onwards throughout the day.
Unfortunately, my Wahoo watch presented an unexpected challenge. Around the 2-hour mark, it entered a "Recovering Data" mode, a malfunction I had never seen before. This issue recurred several times, returning different distance and time data each time and disrupting my carefully planned nutrition schedule.
Endurance events aren't just about the physical challenge; they're also about strategies, timing, and…. adaptability. Speaking of adaptability, there was a certain strategy I learned from my previous race at the Victoria 70.3, which I had not applied. But fortune favoured me during the bike phase of this race.
There was a particular, lengthy downhill segment where I saw an opportunity. Without going into too much detail, let's say I was able to achieve a minor victory. A small accomplishment perhaps, but one that highlighted the importance of seizing every moment in a race — to be coy, it was a moment of relief, both literally and metaphorically.
As I surpassed the 150km mark, I could feel my energy levels waning. The combination of persistent heat, swelling feet, and fatigue began to slow my pace. Despite these challenges, I completed the bike course in 5:49:11, a result that, given the circumstances, I was proud of.
I was also spared from any flat tires, an issue I had experienced in my previous Ironman races.
Finishing under the 6-hour mark felt like a triumph, even if it was shy of my original target. This was especially true considering the challenging second lap, and it filled the bike segment of my race with a sense of accomplishment.
The transition from bike to run was smooth. I managed to rack my bike quickly and focus on the next stage. Honestly, I don't remember too much of this transition — my mind was fixed on moving forward and managing the escalating heat. One detail that stands out is my longing for some ice to cool down.
Run
The 42.2 km run was divided into three loops, guiding us along the picturesque lake bank, through the lively event area and the verdant Schadaupark, and across the historical Scherzligschleuse bridge, all framed by the awe-inspiring backdrop of the Alps.
Emerging into the run, I made a beeline for the first aid station I encountered. The relentless heat drove me to load up with ice and douse my head under a cold shower, desperate for relief. Although I had my own gels, I decided to utilize what was offered at the aid station, which included Coke and other sustenance. This decision, however, came back to haunt me. I treated each aid station like a buffet, leading to the cramping that hit me on the second loop.
Striving to maintain a pace of 5:00/km, I mostly ran through the first lap. The heat, however, was an unyielding adversary, and I found myself walking every aid station, my pace dwindling. The heat seemed to sap my strength, and I struggled to find my running rhythm.
On the second lap, I found myself walking increasingly more, focusing solely on keeping momentum. I couldn't stomach a gel due to an unsettled stomach, yet I continued consuming Coke, unsure whether it aided my situation. It was only around the 25km mark that I finally managed to ingest a gel and find my legs again. While I wasn't particularly fast, I reduced the walking and established a rhythm.
One of the mental challenges was seeing other athletes walking. It was a constant reminder that stopping to walk was an option. To cope, I broke down the marathon into smaller segments, making the task more mentally manageable. The crowd was a pillar of support. Their energy and enthusiasm gave me the drive to push on.
I even found a friendly rivalry with a fellow athlete from Australia. We kept surpassing one another until I managed to steady my pace. His wisdom on the laps resonated with me: "The first lap is a tour, the second is for enduring pain, and the third is the victory lap." As we both started our third lap, I echoed his sentiment, embracing our 'victory lap.'
The run course, essentially flat with only a small hill in town, provided some respite. Running past the water and through the village offered visual solace, rejuvenating amidst the relentless challenge. Nonetheless, the sweltering midday heat rendered this the most challenging marathon I've ever undertaken.
Overcoming these obstacles, I finished the run in 4:24:47. In retrospect, I recognized the need for a more effective nutrition strategy for the run. Avoiding the loss of momentum due to frequent aid station breaks will also be critical for future races, as this was a significant factor in slowing my pace. Despite these challenges, crossing the finish line was a testament to my perseverance and resilience in the face of adversity.
My finishing time was 11:52:49.
Post-race
A race like this takes a toll far outside the existence of the race itself. Family, relationships, work, time, and money are all brought to the forefront and demand transparency. This aspect of racing — its ability to mirror our lives, the challenges and successes — is one reason I am so drawn to the sport. It underscores the issues that must be addressed and allows us to conquer them.
I owe immense gratitude to Kylie and Jasper Blake at B78, who have been instrumental in my training journey, providing both guidance and resources when I needed them most.
My family's understanding and unwavering belief in me have been my pillars of strength during challenging times. The demanding nature of my training has cast a light on the complexities of my personal life, revealing the delicate balance required between dedication to the sport and family commitments.
To all my training partners and everyone who cheered me on, your encouragement fueled my determination. Each of you, in your own unique way, has played an instrumental role in making my Ironman Switzerland journey an unforgettable experience. I look forward to what lies ahead in our shared world of Ironman.
Ironman Switzerland was a race of highs and lows, personal victories, and valuable lessons. The stunning course offered a testament to the beauty of Switzerland and a reminder of why I love this sport — the joy of pushing boundaries, the thrill of testing endurance, and the companionship among athletes.
The race was undoubtedly demanding, but the lessons learned, and the beautiful Swiss landscape made it all worthwhile. As I look back on the experience, I see not just a race but a reflection of my life's journey, filled with obstacles, resilience, and breakthroughs. With this perspective, I am enthusiastic and excited about what comes next.
About Dan: I’m an entrepreneur with experience in various industries, including fintech, real estate, and performance marketing. Most recently, Co-Founder and COO at Billi Labs (exit), and VP Operations at Pretio Interactive (exit).
I am passionate about endurance sport and exploring the intersection between technology, health, and performance.
