Ironman Vichy 2022 – The Midnight Swim That Shouldn’t Have Happened

Ironman Vichy 2022 was supposed to be my first official long-distance triathlon. Swim, bike, run – the full package. But then, just days before the race, came the announcement: Swim canceled due to blue-green algae contamination.

I was furious. I hadn’t traveled all the way to France just to do two-thirds of an Ironman. That wasn’t the deal.

So, I made a new deal.

Two nights before race day, while most athletes were getting their pre-race sleep, I decided to take matters into my own hands. If the organizers wouldn’t let me swim, I’d just do it myself. At 3 AM, I slipped into the water, guided only by the faint glow of my Garmin watch. It was pitch black, eerily silent, and honestly, felt like something out of a horror movie. Every shadow, every ripple in the water sent a small jolt of adrenaline through my system. But I was there for a reason.

I swam 1.8 km, knowing I’d have to double it to match the real race distance. It wasn’t pretty, it wasn’t smart, but it felt right.

Until the next day.

By Saturday afternoon, while watching the 70.3 athletes (who also weren’t allowed to swim), I started feeling off—lightheaded, fatigued, a little dizzy. A quick (and terrible) decision to Google my symptoms confirmed what I feared: classic signs of exposure to contaminated water. Fantastic. My brilliant plan had backfired.

So, when Sunday’s race started, I did what I could: no swim, straight onto the bike like everyone else. Despite the unconventional start, the race was incredible. I had promised myself I wouldn’t chase a time—this was about the experience, soaking in the atmosphere, and enjoying the raw energy of the event. And Vichy delivered. Amazing scenery, international support from the crowds, and an atmosphere that made every kilometer worth it.

Special thanks to Red Bull for saving me during the marathon—without their aid station, I might still be out there. Would I recommend Ironman Vichy? Absolutely. Would I recommend an unplanned midnight swim in an algae-infested lake? Not in a million years. Lesson learned.

And before the madness of Ironman Vichy even began, we made a stop in Lyon to visit our good friend Fabio and his family. A perfect chance to catch up, enjoy some great company, and, of course, explore the beautiful old town. Strolling through the historic streets, taking in the sights, and indulging in some local specialties was the ideal way to loosen up our legs before the big race.

From Lyon to Vichy, then Bourges, Versailles, and finally Brügge—this trip had everything. Racing, sightseeing, celebrating, and most importantly, unforgettable moments with amazing friends.

Huge thanks to Oli, Nils, and everyone who made this adventure so special.

The Emsland Test-Ironman – Confusing My Neighbors, One Lap at a Time

Before tackling my first official long-distance triathlon, I wanted to know what I was getting into. So, I created my own Ironman-distance race. No spectators, no aid stations—just me, my bike, and a ridiculous amount of stubbornness.

• Swim: Not in a fancy race venue, just a lake near home.
• Bike: From my place to Nordhorn and back, with some extra sightseeing in the Dutch border region to round up the mileage.
• Run: A four-lap marathon through my neighborhood.

This is where things got funny.

On my first lap, I passed a group of neighbors who were outside grilling and enjoying their evening. They cheered as I ran by, beer in hand, living their best life. An hour later, as I passed them again, they looked a little confused. Another hour—third lap. This time, their confusion had turned to full-blown disbelief.

By the fourth lap, they were done celebrating, packing up to head home—only to see me still running. Their faces said it all: What the hell is this guy doing?

The test run was tough, but it gave me the confidence I needed for race day. More importantly, it taught me that the Ironman is just as much a mental game as a physical one. And that, sometimes, the best part of endurance sports is confusing the hell out of random bystanders.

Next stop: more races, more chaos, and hopefully, an official full-distance finish—with all three disciplines intact.