Challenge Accepted!

I have been quiet. Not because nothing happened, but because everything did – again.

The last weeks have taken their toll. Work became a blur of back to back meetings, reorganisation steps, pep talks for colleagues on the edge and a mountain of change ahead of me that often felt unsurmountable. I have not commuted by bike in ages. My STRAVA streak survived only because I protected the smallest possible family workouts. The rhythm was gone. The noise was not.

My supposed autumn highlight, the SaintExpress, never happened. The flu came knocking. I even had a last minute entry for the full SaintéLyon. Eighty kilometres through the night sounded like therapy after a tough stretch at work. I booked the train. Packed mentally for escape. And then, the morning before the late night start, I realised that pushing through would probably send me over the cliff. So I withdrew. Stayed home. Lay in bed. Recovered, a little.

A week later, I am still tired, not very fit and a bit on edge. The past seven months have been among the most intense of my life. As the year draws to a close, I started to reflect on how I got here, not only this autumn but across the whole arc of recent years.

The Long Build Up

2022: A difficult professional year. Frustration with my old job, a dissolving group and leadership I could not look up to. I finally pulled the exit trigger, just after receiving a permanent role. A nerve wracking year.

2023: A fresh start at INFICON that brought genuine joy. At the same time, relocation chaos, selling our home under stress and conflict with the mayor that nearly broke us. We closed the sale with a financial loss and a heavy emotional price. A year of survival instincts.

2024: The financial aftermath lingered. We triple checked expenses and tried to rebuild stability for the kids. The job continued to be rewarding, but life tightened around the edges.

2025: A shift into higher gear. I was promoted to lead the Application Engineering team. Six months later, I stepped into an even larger challenge: guiding the R&D division through turbulence and organisational change. I was warned. I insisted. I was appointed. I knew I was stepping into a storm.

The Part Overshadowed: SWISSMAN Preparation

Somewhere in the middle of all that, there was the SWISSMAN preparation. A project so big it should have defined the year, but instead became the quiet work happening underneath the corporate thunder.

Commute mornings on the bike. Long training blocks. Climbing sessions in the heat. But even more rides in the cold – a new fear unlocked: being cold during workouts. Weeks of structure and discipline while chaos swirled around me.

And then, in June, the result: a quiet, deep and personal finish on the Kleine Scheidegg. No heroics, no drama – okay, a bit of „I don’t want to do this sh… anylonger“. But in the end: Just a long journey finally closing. It deserved more space than the year allowed. But it stayed with me, even as the storms rolled in.

The Ship, the Crew and the Holes in the Hull

Seven months into the R&D role, I still love the challenge. I want to set the course. I want to reach new shores. But I cannot sail the ship alone.

Some people stepped up brilliantly. True crew. Strong hands. Steady minds.

But each day also revealed a new hole in the hull. Another old band aid that kept us afloat but prevented real speed. Some people seemed content navigating a dinghy. I am not. I want an AC75. I want foiling. I want a crew that trusts each other and pushes together. And I need a shore crew that supports the mission.

So here I am, still figuring out the right staffing. Do we have a navigator? A lookout? Are the cyclors producing power, or quietly hiding in their pods? And does the ship itself need a redesign? Are we pretending to foil when we are still dragging an old hull through the water?

2026 will need more structure. The ship needs a refit. And I need more rest.

On the Home Front

My daughter recently asked whether problems become bigger the higher one climbs in a company. She was not wrong. And she also feels I am more consumed by my job. That hurt. I have always been an involved dad. Hearing that I am drifting worries me more than any organisational challenge.

Sport: The Constant and the Neglected

On paper, my 2026 goals are exciting: La Diagonela, Engadin Skimarathon, Zurich Marathon, Uster Half Distance Triathlon and Ironman Cascais in October. And a new CUBE Aerium C68 tri bike arriving in February.

In reality, I am deep in off season mode. Too little training. Too much stress. Too much food. Not enough sleep. My endurance brain wants something to look forward to. My rational brain worries about overload. Both are probably right.

Where Does That Leave Me

Somewhere between strength and fatigue. Between ambition and caution. Between storms and blue water.

Still on the boat. Still holding the helm. But more aware than ever that balance is no longer optional. It is necessary.

2026 needs to be intentional. More structure. More recovery. More clarity in roles. More space for family. More training that fuels rather than drains. More leadership by design rather than emergency.

I still want that AC75. I still want foiling. I still want speed. But not at the expense of the crew on board. And not at the expense of the people waiting at home.

This has been a hard year. One of the hardest. But also meaningful. A year of courage, growth and uncomfortable truths. A year that showed me what is possible and what must change.

I am not where I want to be yet. But I am on the way.

Challenge accepted again. And this time, hopefully with guardrails.