The Mediterranean whispered, “Welcome home.”
The mountains said, “Let’s see what you’ve got.”
And the rental bike?
Well… we had a lot to talk about.
Home waters,
high mountains, one rental bike.
I came for the mountains and the Mediterranean.
If there was ever a race that could make me question my life choices, this was it: a sea swim, a mountain, a technical descent and, yes… a rental bike.
Perfect.
But after everything my body had been through, just standing on another IRONMAN 70.3 World Championship start line already felt huge.
And having Asia there made it even better.
Nice is stunning
The Riviera, the food, the energy, and then there was the Mediterranean. For most athletes, it was the swim course. For me, it was home. Growing up in Italy, the smell of the salt air, the sound of the waves and that beautiful blue water brought me right back. The mountain was another story. And Black Forza and I were about to find out exactly what kind of friends we had become 😂
Race Morning
I woke before the alarm, as always. Coffee, a bagel with peanut butter and honey, and just enough nerves to remind me that I still care.
Walking along the Promenade des Anglais before sunrise was unforgettable.
Thousands of athletes, everyone focused, everyone waiting for their turn to begin.
But one of the things I loved most was the people.
I was so happy to start the swim with Norma, and I saw other athletes I knew from Italy at the start.
There is something special about standing on a World Championship start line so far from home and suddenly seeing familiar faces.
Swim
〰️
1.9 km
〰️
Nice
〰️
Swim 〰️ 1.9 km 〰️ Nice 〰️
And apparently, the best way to handle World Championship nerves is to start singing together before the swim. 😂🎶
For a few minutes, we were laughing, singing and simply enjoying being there.
And then there was Asia.
She was there with me at the swim start, just as she would be there for me throughout this entire day.
I looked at that beautiful Mediterranean, took a breath and thought:
Whatever happens today, I’m grateful.
Game on.
SWIM
Oh, that water. 💙
Blue. Turquoise. Clear. Beautiful.
The swim was everything I hoped the Mediterranean would be.
And perhaps the best part? I didn't panic.
I settled into the water and actually enjoyed it. Instead of fighting the swim or letting the excitement of a World Championship start take over, I found my rhythm.
Long strokes. Stay straight. Stay calm.
I used my FORM goggles to help with direction and resisted the temptation to turn the swim into a sprint.
For so many athletes, this was simply the first 1.9 kilometers of a 70.3.
For me, swimming in that beautiful Mediterranean felt different.
It felt familiar. It felt like home.
And honestly?
It was amazing.
The Mountains
were waiting. And so was Black Forza. 🖤
I came out of the water happy and ready for what I knew would be the real challenge of the day.
Bike
〰️
90 km
〰️
1247 m (4090 ft) Elevation Gain
〰️
Bike 〰️ 90 km 〰️ 1247 m (4090 ft) Elevation Gain 〰️
2 days before
race day, there had already been one unexpected twist: the bike. I had wanted a TT bike, but none was available. So, road bike it was. Maybe that was a sign. With the climbing and the technical descent everyone kept talking about, perhaps this was exactly the bike I was supposed to have. The morning after picking her up, I took her out for our first ride together. And because apparently I name rental bikes now, I called her:
Black Forza. 🖤
Black Forza
and I had a deal.
“I'll take care of you on the climbs. You take care of me on the descents. Deal?”
A few kilometers later, I thought we were going to be friends. Race morning put that friendship to the test.
I clipped in, looked toward the mountains and thought:
“This seemed like a good idea when I registered.”
At first, I simply settled in. No hero moves. No chasing. Then came the climb.
And let me tell you something:
This was the freaking hardest 70.3 bike I have ever done.
Col de Vence
The main climb was roughly 10 kilometers and reminded me a little of climbing in the Dolomites, not quite the same, but long, relentless and steep, averaging around 7%. Normally, climbing doesn't scare me. I reminded myself:
“Rosa Laura, you've climbed the Dolomites. You've climbed Stelvio, Gavia, Giau and Pordoi. You didn't come all this way to be scared of another mountain.”
But this time, the mountain wasn't the biggest problem. My body was.
My lower back started hurting badly. I already have an L5 pars defect, and being on an unfamiliar rental bike, with 172 mm cranks compared with the 155 mm cranks I normally ride, was clearly not making my back happy. The pain eventually extended into my left leg and high hamstring around the ischial attachment.
I can't say exactly how much the different bike setup contributed, but I knew one thing: my body was telling me to back off, and I needed to listen.
The power plan
disappeared. I couldn't even comfortably maintain the 80-90% power I had planned. I was riding closer to 50–60% of FTP.
And that's when the coach in me had to overrule the athlete in me.
Today was no longer about chasing watts.
It was about adapting. I backed off. I stopped twice at aid stations to get off the bike and stretch. I managed the pain as best I could and kept moving forward.
There was another climb later, too, just in case Nice thought we hadn't suffered enough. 😂 And through all of it, I kept reminding myself:
Respect the mountain. Respect your body.
Fueling was still a huge part of the plan. Over the past months, I had trained my gut to handle 120 grams of carbohydrates per hour. Yes, 120!
My legs had a mountain to climb, and apparently my stomach had been training for its own endurance event.
Thank you, INFINIT Nutrition, for helping me keep the tank full while the rest of me was negotiating with Black Forza.
The descent
came. The part I had worried about for months. The part everyone had warned me about.
And you know what?
It wasn't nearly as crazy as I expected. Technical? Yes. Did it require concentration? Absolutely.
But I've descended roads in the Dolomites and other places around the world that felt more difficult than this. Slow down before the corners. Stay controlled. Don't take stupid risks. It was manageable. And it was beautiful.
The views coming down were incredible, and for the first time in a while I could actually appreciate where I was. But I also saw the other side of taking risks.
There were athletes who had crashed. I saw people down on the road and ambulances attending to riders. Meanwhile, athletes were flying past me on the descents. They could have it. See you on the run, my friends.
I had promised Black Forza that I'd take care of her on the climbs if she took care of me on the descents. We kept our deal.
Eventually I rolled into T2. It was nothing like the bike split I had imagined before this race. But I was there. Safe. Still racing. And that mattered more than any number on my bike computer.
Run
〰️
21.1 km
〰️
123 m (404 ft) Elevation Gain
〰️
Run 〰️ 21.1 km 〰️ 123 m (404 ft) Elevation Gain 〰️
I started running and immediately knew the bike had left its mark. My back and left hamstring were still sore from the bike. But something encouraging happened. I could run. Early on, I saw paces around 8:15–8:30/mile, and almost immediately told myself:
“No. Slow this down.” There was still a half marathon ahead of me, and considering my longest run during the entire build had been only 8 miles, I knew I needed to be smart.
It was hot, my body was already hurting from the bike, and there was absolutely no reason to turn the first few miles into another battle. So between aid stations, I kept the running controlled, generally under 9:00/mile. But I also made another decision: Walk the aid stations. That brought my overall average pace down, but I didn't care. Today wasn't about making the average pace on my watch look pretty.
It was about getting to that finish line intelligently. And it was hot. Ice became my best friend. I kept my CORE Ice Bandana loaded with ice, poured water over myself, kept drinking and did everything I could to manage the heat. My little heat-management routine became:
Ice in the bandana.
Water on the body.
Fluids in the body.
Keep the engine cool and keep moving forward.
Around halfway, my legs started whispering: “Hey… maybe we should slow down?” “Nice try,” I told them. “ShutUpLegs! We didn’t climb a mountain just to walk now.” 😂 Well… except through the aid stations. Those were non-negotiable. 😂 So every step became a little thank-you to my body for hanging on. One foot in front of the other.
And then there was Asia. ❤️ She wasn't simply standing somewhere waiting for me to finish. She became part of my race. She was there with me at the swim start. She followed me throughout the day.
And afterward, when I could barely move, she even went to retrieve my bike for me. All day long, she found little ways to take care of me.
That meant more to me than she probably realized.
The run wasn't fast by my standards. My body hurt. I walked the aid stations. But between them? I ran. And after the bike I had just endured, I was actually really proud of that. I didn't need the pace on my watch to tell me whether I was having a good run. On this day, continuing to run was the victory. One foot in front of the other along the Mediterranean.
Keep cooling.
Keep moving.
Keep smiling when possible.
And little by little…
the finish line got closer.
The Finish Line Jump
〰️
The Finish Line Jump 〰️
ONE JUMP LEFT
After everything Nice threw at me, somehow I still had one jump left. 😂
My body had negotiated with Black Forza and the mountains of Nice all day, and apparently there was still enough energy left for one last bad idea. 😂
And then I saw that finish line. For a few seconds, none of it mattered.
I wasn't thinking about watts.
I wasn't thinking about pace.
I wasn't thinking about the clock.
I was just happy. Happy that my body had carried me through one of the hardest 70.3 races I have ever done. So I did what I apparently still had enough energy to do…
I jumped. ❤️
Because sometimes the biggest victories aren't measured by the clock.
They're measured by how high you can still jump when you get there. 🇫🇷🏅
NICE IN MOTION 🎥
And just like that… here’s the whole crazy day in motion. 😂❤️
Swim. Bike. Run. Mountains. Mediterranean. Black Forza. And one very happy finish line.
Some memories deserve more than a photograph. 🇫🇷
Video: FinisherPix
The race I was given
This wasn't the race I had imagined.
It wasn't my fastest. It certainly wasn't my strongest bike.
But maybe that's exactly why it taught me so much. We spend months creating race plans, power, heart rate, pacing, nutrition, equipment.
And sometimes race day looks at your beautiful plan and says:
“Nope. We're doing something else today.” 😂
That's when experience matters.
Adapt
I could have chased the watts I thought I should be riding. I could have taken more risks on the descent or forced the run pace.
Instead, I adapted.
I backed off when my body demanded it. I stopped twice to stretch. I descended within my limits. I walked the aid stations, managed the heat and kept moving.
There's a big difference between giving up and adjusting.
I adjusted.
That is racing too. And maybe even more importantly, that's coaching.
I would never tell one of my athletes to ignore significant pain because a number was written in the plan. I wasn't going to ask that of myself.
Nice was one
for
the books
This was, without question, the hardest 70.3 I have ever done. And also one of the most beautiful.
The turquoise Mediterranean. The mountains. The Côte d'Azur. The Promenade des Anglais. Familiar faces at the start. And Asia beside me through all of it. ❤️ I'm sore (so freaking sore 😂) but I'm happy.
Happy I did it. Happy I respected my body enough to change the plan. And grateful for another IRONMAN 70.3 World Championship.
World Championships have been part of my journey since 2014. I've made it to all but two, and somehow every one gives me a different story.
Nice gave me this one:
Fitness gives you options. Experience helps you choose the right one.
And Chattanooga… right now you sound wonderfully flat. 😂
The race through IRONMAN France's eyes.
“Video credit: IRONMAN France”
One beautiful course. One very hard day. And one World Championship I will never forget. ❤️
After The Race: The French Riviera
And then the adventure changed gears.
Asia and I traded race kits for swimsuits and headed out onto the Mediterranean for a beautiful catamaran day, swimming in that crystal clear turquoise water, paddling, relaxing, eating, drinking and finally celebrating. 🥂💙
The next day, we explored the French Riviera from land, visiting Èze, Monaco, Monte Carlo, Cannes, Juan les Pins and Antibes.
After everything Asia did for me on race day, those two days together felt even more special.
From racing along the Côte d'Azur to slowing down and actually enjoying it by sea and land with my daughter, I couldn't have imagined a better way to finish this journey.
Race over. Adventure definitely not over. 😂
