Triathlon du Mont Blanc.
The French nation loves ‘extreme’ they just do! Think Vendee Globe, Marathon du Sable, Paris Dakar rally. The sport of triathlon is booming and here too the ‘sexy sport’ has attracted French interest. The area of Haute Savoie beckons extreme skiers to Chamonix and many other resorts too to truly test themselves, as do the various slopes of this mountainous region as each year Le Tour de France cycle race comes to visit and face the mountainous terrain.
The impossibly beautiful Lac du Passy is the setting for the Triathlon du Mont Blanc (the clue is in the name) 1500 meters of swimming 50 km of cycling and a 10km run.
In all things French there is a ‘difference’.
The racers line up on the shore of the beautiful lake their bodies honed by years of exercise in this playground for the extreme, MTB, Skiing, Rock Climbing and even the infamous 200km running race ‘Ultara trail’. The various tri suits disappear into the uniform black of their wet suited owners. Not blue or black lycra for them but pink and turquoise and purples and reds-a vibrant scene of colorful gear stretched over tanned super fit bodied.
The race is due to start at 2:15 to coincide with the peak daily temperature at this time of year of 30 degrees! Inevitably there is a delay as one competitor decides to swim the course in final preparation hounded now by a flotilla of whistle blowing canoeists. He returns to the shore unconcerned but now the chief referee sporting a black and white shirt of office has his day, strutting back an forth behind the lined up competitors he issues orders and signals his importance brandishing stopwatches, neck hung maps and various other badges of office. Suddenly without any apparent warning he steps forward and depresses his hand primed Klaxon and the race is on. The early turmoil abated the swimmers settle down to their task. As the swimmers turn around the far bout first a brief glimpse of the Aigle du midi and then the magnificent view of Mont Blanc-the very symbol of the region. The final meters of the swim are a mix of shallow dives and swimming glides before emerging on the shore where excitable young marshals implore the swimmers to hand over their ‘nylon red and white swim hats’ in preparation for another day. Allez allez yell the crowd a soon to be familiar cry.
As the adults set off the childrens race begins. Imagine 100 kids dressed in the tri suits. The swim phase reminds one that France is now a leading world nation I n this as technique is excellent and the mountain bile leg around the lake is no less than spectacular. The run is accompanied by the yells of anxious parents until finally the winner arrives his victory salute quite splendid and obviously practiced in the bedroom mirror. The whole thing a window on the lifestyle and attitude of the local youth.
No TT bikes are lined up in the adulttransition but road bikes with dinner plate rear cogs and super light climbing wheels. The first 25 km miles uphill consist of ramp after ramp with hairpin bends and brief sections of relief. Setting ones own pace is the only way as a visit to the ‘red zone’ in this territory can prove fatal in terms of ones ability to keep going. At long last the Plateau of Passy is reached an racers drink in the thin mountain air and pass a series of buildings which were once sanctuaries for the serious infirm but are now transformed into holiday complexes for those who love the great outdoors. At the head of the pass the riders make their turn around a round about whose position allows a viewe of the ‘altiport’ where lovers of that other great adventure sport, ‘parapenting’ line up to launch their nylon rainbow coloured canopies into the void. The cyclists lycra echoes this color in a spectacular moment as they turn and their climbing machines transform into those prepared for flight. With speeds in excess of 40 mph the riders swoop down round bends, the only sound the screech of brakes and the odd shriek of sheer glee. At each junction marshals brandishing red table tennis bats forbid motorists to proceed. At last the lake is reached again and two laps of running demonstrate the class of the field. Various officials (arbiter-referee) emblazoned on their shirts watch over events one man with a twisted mouth stops a runner and rebukes him for not wearing his number straight and brandishes a yellow card (3 pins are obligatory on the race belt!! It is France after all).
The crowd is whipped up by an MC although strangely some dog walkers seem not to see the whole thing! The finishing shute is bright and the final meters are accompanied by techno beat music. Beyond the line not a tee shirt but a towel with an image the mighty mountain worked into its texture. Finally as only the French could do there is an athletes banquette table not ten metres from the finish with sandwiches chocolate every type of fruit crisps and drinks. The winner seemingly unconcerned by his effort munches on a slice of melon. Tom Elliott of the N1 tri club came 42nd out of 450 locals although pleasingly and English ski instructor won the women’s prize. Next year we might just take a party to race this event it is truly spectacular and to see the French approach is quite something. As you drive away from the race the signs adorn all the local lamp posts announcing next week the famous “ultra running race of Mont Blanc and surrounding area-300 km anyone?
Tales of a Life Well Lived 