Growing up, my family spent most summers camping in the French city of Embrun. The Alpine location was a perfect base for scrambling, canyoning, mountain biking, etc., but most curiously it is also the home of the Embrunman, a non-affiliated Ironman Triathlon famed as one of the hardest in the world – the cycling route adds 3,600m of climbing to the already gruelling 180.2 km ride.

Each summer I watched from the mouth of my tent as sinewy competitors unpacked futuristic time trial bikes and prepared meals in Tupperware pots. I’d sneer at their lycra get-ups. I was there to ride down the hills, not up them. On the morning of the event the campsite would be empty before sunrise and when we saw the competitors again in the evening they would be reduced to husks.

I was fascinated by what happened out of sight. What happened in the mountains that could crush these powerful men and women and what was their motivation to willingly endure it?

In the years that followed I gravitated towards adventure. Various motorcycle trips, summers climbing in the Dolomites, winters snowboarding in the Alps. Kayaking, randonneuring, you name it. I was eager to capitalise on the opportunities afforded to me working away from home and these early values steered me in the belief that those not on the same path had missed something.

I began to dissociate the values I had built around enduring discomfort, overcoming fear and challenge as things that could only occur on a mountain - not in day-to-day life and this made me unempathetic to the sort of pathos that people encounter everywhere. I took it for granted that I was fortunate enough that I had to manufacture difficulties to overcome.

These uninvited burdens are rarely worn on our sleeves, quantified on Strava or celebrated once overcome. However, they can be crushing to those that endure them quietly.

I’m planning to complete my own local Ironman this winter to raise money for Mind and would be very grateful for any donations. I haven’t set a date just yet, but my aim is to complete this sometime over my next hitch at home in January.

For those unfamiliar, an Ironman triathlon is comprised of a 2.4 mile swim (3.9K), 112 mile bike (180.2K), and 26.2 mile run (42.2K).

Mind is a charity that provides advice and support to empower anyone experiencing mental health problems. They have local branches which support people in communities across England and Wales. Their range of services includes supported housing, crisis helplines, drop-in centres, employment and training schemes, counselling and befriending.

Thanks for reading.

Update - 550 characters wasn't enough to say thanks!:

It’s almost two weeks since I completed the Ironman, so apologies for not updating sooner. 15 ½ hours moving time, closer to 20 hours with slack transitions; pints of Guinness and a spell laying in a heap outside Binham Priory after midnight, wondering when the road had glazed over with ice?

Thanks to your generosity we’ve raised over £1,500 for Mind. I am extremely grateful to everyone who donated and left messages of support.

In truth, I set out wanting to complete this Ironman as a test of grit. A challenge but also a reassurance, and I guess a distraction.

Wanting to do it by myself played a big part of that. Without the pomp and fanfare of an organised event and the training and resources that would involve. Friends and family offered support in various guises and up until the 11th hour I spurned them all. Believing the challenge, and consequently the value and reassurance I could take from it would be diminished by each favour I accepted.

In the end, I was kindly provided with some last-minute bicycle maintenance and ferried to and from the start/finish lines at extremely unsociable hours. I did, however, turn down the celebratory glass of whisky in favour of a long pull from the dog’s ‘car water’ – but the gesture was appreciated all the same.

Endurance events like this give you a lot of time to think and what I took away from it, is that a greater display of strength is the humility to accept help from others, to seek it out when you need it and to offer it to others when you can.

Thank you to everyone who has helped along the way. I hope I can repay each of you some day.

Max