Challenge Accepted!

226.1 km. 5,500 meters of climbing. 16 hours and 31 minutes.
It should’ve felt euphoric.
Instead, it felt… quiet.

Not the peaceful kind. But the kind of quiet that comes when everything has been poured out—molecule by molecule—until there’s simply nothing left.

—

From Fever to Furka

Back in fall 2024, I didn’t think I’d stand at the SWISSMAN start line again.

A crushing sequence of bacterial infections sidelined training, smashed consistency, and drained my fitness to the ground like I hadn’t seen in a long time. But the dream wouldn’t let go. And neither would I.

Through a careful rebuild—modest volumes, mindful scheduling, and a fierce refusal to rush—I clawed my way back. Spring brought longer rides. A giant fueling test in May. CTL peaked. Belief returned.

Sort of.

—

The Race: Shortened Swim, Long Reckoning

A storm-shortened swim gave me a rare edge. At 1,298 meters, I was in T1 faster than expected—and grateful not to be tossed around the full length of Lago Maggiore.

Then: Gotthard. Furka. Grimsel.
The classic Swiss trilogy of quad punishment.

Already on Furka, I was struggling. My legs turned. My mind didn’t.
Empty. No fight. No playlist. Just a void where motivation usually lived.

And that’s where she showed up—again.
My wife, calm and razor-clear:
“You trained for this. Now go.”

So I did.
Not because I felt strong. But because she believed I could be.

—

The Run: When Grit Replaces Gels

I ran okay. Not fast. Not fluid. But moving.
Fueling fell apart again. (Still haven’t cracked that code.)

But somehow, I held pace.
Walked when I had to. Moved when I didn’t want to.
Climbed through Wilderswil, across Grindelwald, and toward the fading light below the Eiger north face.

—

The Finish: Banner, Bell, and a Kind of Emptiness

And then: the final meters.
And yes, there was a banner. And yes, there were cowbells. The same one rung at the start line, rung again by the SWISSMAN crew.

I crossed the finish line not alone, but surrounded by family. Supporters. My people.

It should have been glorious. And in some ways, it was.

But that endorphin flash? The cinematic release?
Didn’t come.

What came instead was a strange hollowness.
A quiet, private fatigue—not just of the body, but of the soul.

Maybe the cost of chasing two peaks at once—a demanding job and this finish line—was greater than I’d budgeted.

I had made it.
But I wasn’t whole.

—

“Only to Finish?”

Before the race, my wife looked at my race schedule and said:
“You trained so much—but only to finish?”

Now I understand the question better.
And I still stand by the answer.

Yes—to finish.
Not to impress. Not to chase a time.
But to close a loop that started a long time ago.

—

Gratitude

To my wife:
For being the pacer of my emotions, the voice when my brain bailed, and the one who makes all this possible—logistically and in this race quite literally.

To my supporter:
Thank you for the early morning, the nutrition handoffs, the smiles at aid stations, and the strength when I had none.

To the past version of me who didn’t quit last year:
I see you. You were right to hold on.

—

By the Numbers

Swim: 24:02 (1.3 km) – Avg HR: 139 bpm
Bike: 8:50:25 (181.6 km) – Avg HR: 129 bpm
Run: 6:54:00 (42.95 km) – Avg HR: 116 bpm
Total: 16:31:55 (226.1 km) – Avg HR: 124 bpm
TSS: 639
Calories: 8,162 kcal
Max HR: 176 bpm

—

Final Thoughts

Maybe this wasn’t the triumphant, tearful, movie-ending finish I expected.
But it was real. Raw. Human. Honest.

And sometimes, that’s the more valuable kind of finish.

SWISSMAN is not a race you win – okay, you can win it and get your personal cowbell…
But for us mortals: it’s a rite you earn.

And I earned it.
Even if the joy came quietly.
Even if it hasn’t arrived yet.

—