In a professional world that still values linear careers and five-year plans, Alix has chosen a different approach: move fast, learn deeply, commit fully and, of course, accept uncertainty. Between impact investing and Ironman triathlons, her trajectory illustrates a generation less interested in stability than in coherence. Performance, yes but never disconnected from purpose.

A childhood beyond borders, an early disruption

Alix’s relationship with uncertainty began early. At just ten years old, she left France alone for six months to live with a Spanish family, as part of an exchange program to learn the language. A decision that, at that age, felt less like a project than a leap. That first departure set a pattern. Germany, the United Kingdom, then Costa Rica and the United States followed. Each move pushed her further away from familiar frameworks and closer to a more complex understanding of the world.

Costa Rica marked a turning point. Enrolled in an international school built on the idea that mutual understanding reduces conflict, she shared classrooms with students from refugee camps, disadvantaged neighborhoods and countries in crisis. For the first time, she became acutely aware of her own privilege and of the responsibility that came with it.

From that moment on, two ideas structured her choices: learning and having an impact. Not as abstract ideals, but as practical criteria.

Choosing action over institutions

Naturally internationally oriented, Alix pursued a dual degree between Sciences Po and Columbia University. In New York, she studied climate science and initially imagined a future within international organizations. The mission made sense; the pace didn’t. She quickly realized that she was less motivated by policy frameworks than by execution. She wanted to see results: fast, imperfect, tangible.

That desire led her, almost unexpectedly, to Too Good To Go, just as the French startup was launching in the United States. She joined as one of the first American hires, at a time when the product was still unknown. Her days were spent door-to-door in Manhattan, pitching an app few people had heard of.

The learning curve was brutal. The company grew from 10 to 150 employees in a few months. Alix opened new markets, changed cities almost every month and discovered the U.S. from the inside. The experience was formative not glamorous, but demanding. It taught her operational rigor, resilience and a certain humility that would later shape her relationship with founders. After several years, however, a familiar tension resurfaced: staying meant comfort; leaving meant learning again.

She chose to leave.

Becoming a founder (and failing early)

Back in France, Alix enrolled in the X-HEC Entrepreneurs Master’s program. The goal wasn’t to step away from startups, but to gain perspective while remaining close to the ecosystem. She launched an entrepreneurial project focused on carbon credits. For six months, she experienced the reality she had observed from the outside: uncertainty, constant iteration and the uncomfortable proximity of failure. The project didn’t become a sustainable business.

What it did offer, however, was something more durable: a founder’s mindset. Experiencing doubt firsthand profoundly changed the way she would later assess projects, risks and people.

At the time, she didn’t know it yet but this failure would quietly prepare her for venture capital.

Entering venture capital through conviction, not planning

While pitching her carbon project, Alix met several investors, including Eric from the Racine² fund. The conversations didn’t lead to funding, but they left an impression. A few weeks later, Eric reached out. Racine² (SERENA’s impact fund) was looking for someone operational, curious and capable of understanding founders beyond pitch decks.

She applied. She was hired.

At Racine², Alix found a framework aligned with her values: long-term investing focused on environmental, social and even sports-related impact. Her role allowed her to combine strategic analysis with something she cared deeply about. Supporting entrepreneurs without losing sight of execution realities. Her time as a founder changed her posture. She listened differently. She questioned differently. And she understood that impact isn’t only about ideas, but about endurance.

Ironman: a controlled confrontation with limits

Endurance took on a literal meaning when Alix entered the world of triathlon. Initially, it was a challenge thrown by her brothers while she was living in the U.S.: a Half Ironman. She accepted; without fully understanding what it implied. Training introduced her to something she found surprisingly rare in professional life: a clear, linear relationship between effort and result. Progress was measurable. Failure was visible. There was no narrative to hide behind.

The discipline forced choices. Time spent training meant time not spent elsewhere. It required prioritization, consistency and accepting that performance comes with trade-offs. Three days before officially joining Racine², while freelancing for Poppins, Alix completed her first full Ironman. It was supposed to be an endpoint not a beginning. Then the perspective shifted.

Encouraged by Serena, she set her sights on qualification for the Ironman World Championship in Kona. The fund chose to sponsor her, embracing a still-rare belief in the ecosystem: that long-term professional performance can coexist with demanding personal commitments if they are structured, disciplined and meaningful.

From individual effort to collective movement

Sport didn’t remain a solitary pursuit for long. Together with her colleague Juliette, Alix noticed a recurring contradiction: training regularly was becoming incompatible with the growing number of evening networking events. Rather than adding one more obligation, they changed the format.

The Serena Run Club was born, a community that now gathers more than 500 founders, investors and operators. Running replaced cocktails. Conversations replaced pitches. Hierarchies dissolved with pace. “Running with someone,” Alix observes, “sometimes teaches you more about them than an hour long meeting.” The initiative reflects her broader approach: redesign existing systems rather than adapt endlessly to them.

No master plan, only alignment

Alix doesn’t claim to have found a universal formula. She is cautious with narratives of success. What she does have is a method: follow what creates energy now, build with discipline and accept that clarity often comes after action.

“Many people make ten-year plans,” she says. “I don’t. I trust that the dots will connect but, only if I keep moving.” As she prepares for Kona next June, the outcome remains uncertain. Qualification is not guaranteed. Performance will depend on countless variables beyond control.

And that, perhaps, is the point. In a world obsessed with optimization and certainty, Alix Trébaol has chosen endurance, not as a metaphor, but as a practice.