Embrunman watch: logistics and nutritional headaches

The day before I arrived in Embrun for :

• a final swim in the lake (spoiler: the storm rolled in and I learned to tame the waves)
• pick up my number (the solemn moment) & attend the race briefing (in the rain)
• wait until the last moment to drop off my bike at the transition park (to keep my chain and cassette as clean as possible in view of the weather)

In the evening, I prepare all my gear (check ten times that I haven’t forgotten anything) and above all my nutrition (a real headache!). I’m allowed a personal feed bag at the top of the Col de l’Izoard and a bag for the run. You have to be strategic about the bag that goes up to Izoard, because anything that isn’t collected during the race ends up in the garbage can.

I take a daring gamble for my refito at the top of the Col: I try the veggie steak, to which I add a few Yana salted compotes.

For the run, the choice is more obvious: I put on a few gels and a flask that I can pick up at the end of the first CAP lap (three loops to complete).

Marion(Marion Legrand, world duathlon champion), my coach who came along with Garance to cheer me on, helps me with the difficult choice of nutrition for the race (she didn’t really approve of the veggie steak!).

I decided to take a top frame bag on the bike to be autonomous at the ravito, even if it adds quite a bit of weight!

Stress mounts: 3:50 a.m., the start of the longest day ever

Friday, August 15, 2025, 3:50 a.m. The alarm goes off: the day we’ve been waiting for for nine months finally begins. It’s been a short night (4h47 tells me Garmin), but not so bad for race stress!

Iswallow a hard breakfast before setting off for the second longest field day of my life (#1 to date being RAF 300).

Emotions and stress rise as I arrive at the transition park. For once, I’m really ahead of schedule, I’ve got time to prepare my bike and order my things for the various transitions (even if I’m not aiming for efficient transitions).

I set off to warm up in the water; it’s pitch-dark. It’s a strange feeling to be swimming in the dark. I take the opportunity to do a little starfish in the water to relax (a little by the weather, as I was afraid someone would see me floating inert and cry drowning!).

5:45 am, the women’s departure approaches. In 5 minutes we’ll be jumping into the deep end. There are 92 women registered for 962 men. The veteran men join the women on the start line, which is 10 minutes before the men’s start.

Race report: my Embrunman step by step

Swimming (3.8 km): A night glide in 1:02

At 5.50 a.m. the start is given, and there’s already a big crowd on the beach and around the water’s edge. The elites are ahead of us, and I’m at the front of the pack of mermaids.

It’ s still dark and it’s hard to find your bearings. The elites set off ahead of us, following a kayak that guides them with a light. I try to position myself at the feet of one of the swimmers, slowing the pace a little and wedging myself into the warmth of her feet.

I set off for a 1.9km lap of the lake without looking up too much. I trust my pilot to take me safely to my destination. The sun starts to rise, revealing the beauty of the landscape, but the buoys are hard to spot. I’m enjoying this glide, which doesn’t require too much effort.

At the end of the 1st lap, we set off for a 2nd lap of the lake, but my pilot loses her bearings and stops not knowing where to go.

I walk past her to show her the way. Now it’s my turn to offer her a bucolic experience in my feet.

I can hear the crowd cheering us on from the shore, it’s exhilarating.

A quarter of the way through the 2nd lap, I spot the opening kayak for the men, who set off 10 minutes later. I know that the men are strong swimmers, but I tell myself that if I can catch them at least for a few seconds, I’ll have won!

So off I went in a Jacuzzi atmosphere and managed to take three “TGVs”!

I finished the 2nd lap with a good rhythm and the 3.8km swim in 1h02 (1:39min/100m), 17th woman: happiness!

The crowd is incredible, and I run to my bike for my transition. I’ve decided to change completely at each transition to be really comfortable on my bike and on the run.

Hop, I take off the wetsuit, put on the poncho, jump into my shorts, swallow an energy bar, put on my teeshirt, helmet & mittens (it’s ugly, but it’s a lifesaver in case of a fall!).

6min22 of transition 1, not so bad!

Cycling (185 km and 4,000 D+): the Col de l’Izoard and the battle against the wind

As soon as you leave the transition park, you get off to a strong start with an 8% climb.

The public is there again to cheer us on (Tour de France atmosphere), it gives me wings, I press (too) hard on the pedals but clearly the heart rate goes up (way too) hard too.

The route takes us first along the Route des Puys above Embrun, overlooking the Serre Ponçon lake. At this point, I savor the morning colors of the lake & mountains.

After a short warm-up loop of 40km and D+1000m, we return to the outskirts of Embrun to start the long loop towards the Col de L’Izoard.

Mentally, I don’t feel in great shape, my legs seem to respond moderately and I’m constantly being overtaken (the problem with being a good swimmer).

Fortunately, I meet some of my support committee on the road (Garance, Marion, Fab) with signs of encouragement, and on the bike (Anne So, Julien), which puts a smile on my face.

Reconnaissance of the route a few weeks earlier allows me to better manage my effort. I know I need to keep my strength up for the ascent of the Col de l’Izoard: a long 31km climb from Guillestre, with 1560m of positive ascent.

I continue to battle with my mind, “ok, I’m being overtaken all the time, but at the same time they’re all men, with nice bikes”. In the sublime Gorges du Guil we’re riding up, one of the men overtaking me is my old coach Gérald: a few words exchanged, a familiar face, and I’m able to get out of my mental spiral.

Arriving in Arvieux (for Melissa Da Costa fans, this must ring a bell), the real climb begins : 10.2km at an average of 10.5%. Friends of my parents are there to support me: taking the time to chat, laugh, refuel … and leave with a smile (thanks Pierre & AnneSo).

The smile won’t last too long in the face of the demanding gradients of this climb and the heat that is beginning to make itself felt.

Two kilometers before the finish, a moment’s respite comes with a short descent into the grandiose lunar landscapes of Casse Déserte.

At the summit, I find my famous personal food bag and a friend working on the race. I bite into my veggie steak (spoiler: it wasn’t such an incredible idea), put on my windbreaker and attack the descent, cheered on by Sophie.

I’m having a lot more fun on the descent than I did during the course reconnaissance, and I’ve finally understood how to handle a curve and manage the brakes (it’s about time!).

A quick hello to a friend, Adeline, on a traffic circle in Briançon, and I’m finally well into my race, leaving the Col de l’Izoard behind me.

Next mental & physical challenge: the Mur du Pallon (1.7km at 10.4% with 13% from the start). During the recce, I was surprised by these demanding percentages, but faced with such difficulty, it made me laugh. Clearly, on the day, I laughed a lot less.

Luckily my parents, Garance & Marion, were there to entertain me with posters, water me and yell at me.

My coach tells me ” don’t worry, you’ll get your second wind after the climb “, and I’m still waiting for it! A short break with my head in a fountain to cool the engine allows me to recover a little.

From then on, nutrition became increasingly difficult, and I forced myself to eat regularly.

A beautiful descent later, we skirt an airfield, the road is flat but the headwind sticks to us at 20km/h. It’s not unusual on the Embrunman bike course for the wind to change.

Conclusion: on the outward journey to the Gorges de Guil, we had it nicely from the front. Now, on the way back, we’ve got it violently from the front, not good for our legs or our morale.

We finish the big loop that takes us back to Embrun. I take the time to stop at the last ravito to enjoy my big sister and grandparents who have made the trip. These precious shared moments will stay with me forever.

I also had to stop and splash water on my feet. Despite the fact that I prefer to ride in my old cycling shoes, in which I’m normally very comfortable, after more than eight hours on the bike, my feet are on fire.

I set off again, feeling very lazy about the last climb: the côte de Chalvet .

On paper, it’s only six kilometers at 5-6%, but at the end of the course it’s a torment. All the more so as, on reaching Embrun, you come across runners who have attacked (or are ready to finish) the running part of the course.

I make slow progress, metre by metre, to reach the last summit before a switchback to Embrun. At this point, I tell myself that at worst I don’t need to run the marathon, I’m already very happy to have finished the bike within the rather strict time limit.

Then I remember that I’ve got a new running outfit, which motivates me to at least do a round of running (the DNF was a close call!).

Emotions ran high as I approached the transition park, expecting to experience a powerful moment with the public. But no! I arrive at the same time as the first woman, Alanis Siffert, who is finishing her run.

In short, I’m only one marathon behind! Mentally it’s not crazy!

What’s more, in the hubbub of the crowd cheering on the 1st woman, I missed the encouragement of my support crew; bad timing!

After 9h19 of cycling (an average of 20km/h with breaks), I finally put my bike down. I’m out of phase. Fortunately, Garance & Marion are shouting at me from behind the fence where I can make my transition.

I take the time to change into my new outfit. A volunteer offers to give me a massage, and my flattened trapezius muscles are delighted by this gentle moment. I even take the time to do a few twists on the floor to release some of the tension in my back accumulated on the bike. A quick trip to the toilet to lighten up and I’m off for a marathon.

A T2 transition of 14 minutes (the pros will take less than two!).

Marathon (42 km): 3 laps of Embrun at the end of the night

I feel rejuvenated after this long transition, and I’m off to the marathon!

I’m pretty serene about my digestive problems after that trip to the toilet (and the fact that I cut out all fiber for a week before the race). Spoiler: the serenity will have lasted half a lap of running with a forced stop in the bushes.

On the menu, we have three 14km laps with a total of 450m D+. I find my cruising pace relatively slow, but I try to run all the way, except on the climbs.

I meet up with my support committee along the route, a surprise from my friend Manon, which motivates me to keep going.

After the first lap, it became very difficult to swallow the gels, so I decided to drink only water with sugar in it.

Theatmosphere in Embrun’s pedestrian streets is incredible, and I like the fact that I’ve completed three laps, which gives me a sense of direction.

The second round will be slower than the first, the third slower than the second. But it doesn’t matter: the body holds, the mind holds. I chat with other runners, forging bonds over the miles with these future Embrunman & Embrunwoman.

During the 2nd lap, I pass the broom wagon, which is a mini-bus with the cyclists who didn’t make it through the time barrier on time, their cheeks pressed up against the window as they watch us race, which breaks my heart.

I tell myself I’m lucky to be able to run this marathon, I’m well surrounded. Apart from the frequent toilet stops, everything’s going well.

I’m hoping to finish before dark, but unfortunately I can see the sun setting. After seeing it rise this morning, I tell myself it’s going to be a long day. I don’t dare speed up, I’m afraid of cramping.

I see quite a few runners forced to walk because of cramps, vomiting, hypo… the more the kilometers go by, the more it looks like the court of miracles.

I finished my last lap partly with my sister , who hadn’t planned to run that day, but completed the last 10 km wearing Birkenstocks. Another precious moment that will remain engraved in my memory.

The last few kilometers will be spent in total darkness, my legs heavy but my heart light: I’m just finishing this job!

I run the best sprint of my life in the last few metres (I myself am surprised at the speed and the state of my legs at that moment).

The finish: finisher after 16:15 of effort

After 16:15 of effort, I crossed the finish line and became an EmbrunWoman (the 50th that day).

I burst into tears, I did it!

The announcer asks the microphone for a truckload of Kleenex to mop up the grief. He asks me about the tears, and I tell him it’s my first Ironman. He corrects me, saying that I’ve just done the Embruman, which is much harder than an Ironman. He asks me when my next one will be. I reply, making a cross with my arms, ” never again “.

With the medal around my neck, my body realizes that the effort is over, my muscles tense up. A long hot shower & a Doliprane will allow me to sleep like a baby.

It will take me some time to realize what I accomplished on August 15, 2025.

When I signed up for this challenge, I thought I’d be living an inner adventure with myself, a kind of spiritual journey. In the end, I experienced something much greater: a human adventure with those around me. So I’d like to thank all those who were there on D-Day, whether on the course or in their thoughts.

Two months later, I’m thinking that maybe you should never say never … to be continued!