Welcome to the Winterman Extreme Triathlon. One of the toughest Ironmans on the planet, which is held here in the Czech Republic. This year I made my way there and it was a ride I will never forget.

Swimming: darkness and ice shock

The starting shot cut through the silence and we plunged into the blackness of the Elbe. I had an A on my back, but I didn't want to fire all the matches and show false dominance right from the start. I was saving that for my strongest weapon - my bike.

I expected to be the first out of the water, but the Elbe doesn't give you anything for free. The strong current, the ton buoys you can barely see in the dark, and the frost creeping under your wetsuit. In the end, I came out third or fourth. The biggest surprise for me was Petr Soukup - the guy with the broken collarbone swam absolutely incredible and kept me in check.

But at that moment something switched in me. My head went into what I call "hunter's instinct" mode. In that icy water, all thoughts of tactics disappeared, leaving only the basic human instinct to survive and attack. In this mode, I scrambled ashore and jumped into the saddle.

Cycling: fighting for life in the aftermath of a hurricane

Cycling on Winterman? That's 180 miles of pure misery with 3,000 feet of elevation gain. For the first hour and a half you ride in total darkness, with only a cone of light in front of you. The thermometer read 10 degrees and I knew I had to get to the front as fast as I could.

I worked my way up to first place before Hřensko and that's when my game started. I love the feeling of being in control of the race. When I'm the one who sets the pace and who mashes the pedals while the others have to react.

But nature had a different plan. The remnants of the hurricane from America arrived in the Czech Republic on race day. Gusty winds, rain and hail started hitting us in the face. At times it wasn't about watts, but whether I could keep my bike on the road and not end up in a ditch. It was the most challenging cycling I've ever experienced. Physically and mentally.

The run: 35 minutes of lead that started to evaporate

I arrived at the second depot as the leader. Legs full of lactate, body frozen to the bone, but head set on winning. The sight of the stopwatch got my blood pumping:

• 15 minutes ahead of Erikson of Sweden.

• Lead on Petr Soukup: a whopping 35 minutes.

I ran the 43km marathon with the feeling that I wasn't going to let this go. I was planning on a 4:15 min/km pace. But my body said no. I went 30 seconds slower. And that's when all hell broke loose behind me. Petr Soukup was literally flying on the track. Around the half marathon, I started to realize that the 35 minutes in this terrain could dissolve like steam over a pot.

The final on Jested: A battle of the scales in the clouds

I knew that everything would be decided on the final climb. Here comes pure physics. Petr is 60 kilos, I'm almost 80. Petr was shaving seconds, minutes, kilometers.

It was a fight to the last breath. I went over the total edge. My comfort cushion was only 3 minutes and 30 seconds left at the finish. For an eight hour race, that's nothing, a blink of an eye. But I held on.