Timothy Montavon

Even before I set foot on a track, I was already running everywhere. Running, jumping, throwing. Especially throwing.

Every stone I found became a projectile, every open space a playground. Athletics wasn't a sport yet; it was already second nature.

Listen to my interview on ICI Maine

At home, my father often told me about the local club, US Arnage. I just had to wait until I was old enough.

Officially, Kids' Athletics only starts later, at around 7 or 8. But at 5, at the Arnage clubs fair, my enthusiasm didn't go unnoticed.

Guy Plu, then in charge of the youngest age groups, saw it straight away: the raw drive, the boundless energy, a gaze already fixed on the action.

He had known the family for a long time: my great-grandfather, Roger Collas, had coached him. So he made a simple choice: he opened the door.

And that's how it all began.

Through those years in Kids' Athletics, then U12 and U14, I tried everything. I learnt to mix things up, to adapt, to play. I was coached by Guy Plu, Laurence, Romain and Mathieu. With them, it was enjoyment first, along with structure, respect and the drive to improve.

It was also when I discovered camaraderie and the strength of a team. At that age, what mattered wasn't winning at all costs: it was having fun, sharing and learning together. Even though I already had that urge to test myself against others.

And then there were those magical moments: watching the French Championships from the stands, soaking up the atmosphere of the big stadiums, asking athletes for autographs. I could already picture myself out there. Moments like these fed the dream and made me want to be there one day.

Cross-country became a school. A school of mental toughness, of head-to-head battles, of pushing past my limits.

Cross-country was never my favourite discipline. Yet every winter, there I was. With a smile on my face.

The cold, the mud and the long, gruelling effort didn't put me off. Quite the opposite. Competing wasn't a chore: it was already a passion.

Measuring myself against others, toeing the start line, giving it everything. That love of competition has never left me.

Athletics is, by its very nature, an individual sport. On the track or in the throwing area, every athlete faces their performance alone. Yet nobody really wins alone.

Competition weekends in the Sarthe had a special flavour, thanks to friendships forged meeting after meeting, event after event. We didn't all run the same distance, but we were all heading in the same direction. Team spirit doesn't erase individuality: it brings it out.

Gaspard Moriceau, Emerik Piette, Étienne Plus, Pierre Dequirez. We've been following each other's progress for several years. Names synonymous with healthy rivalry, mutual encouragement and shared challenges. Without them, my sport wouldn't be quite the same.

Beyond the Sarthe, at regional level too, bonds were formed. Enzo Clavery, Otis Torregrosa, Clément Alain, Gerlain Ulliste… and plenty of others. Athletes we kept meeting at competitions, and with whom sporting rivalries turned into lasting friendships.

Interclub competitions, Interleague matches, the Leagues Cup, the pre-championship qualifiers, not to mention the French Championships: each time, the same four or five regions came together (Brittany, Normandy, Pays de la Loire, Centre-Val de Loire, Île-de-France). Faces you recognised from one competition to the next. Athletics is one big family.

An individual sport, a team dynamic. That's what athletics is all about.

And suddenly, as a U16, I found myself on my own at the club.

The end of my U14 years marked a turning point. Many young athletes gave up. I was the only U14 at the club who wanted to carry on. And the U16s already training with their coach, Noël Patinec, stopped too. Two groups gone at once.

The only one training, the only one representing Arnage in my age group. The group that had carried, motivated and reassured me until then was gone. I withdrew into myself a little. It was a demanding period, and at times it weighed on me.

With Noël

But Noël was still there. Patient, present, attentive. What could have been an ordeal became a rare opportunity: one-to-one coaching, tailor-made support. Almost a luxury.

What also kept me going were the training camps, the competitions, the moments when I met up with other athletes my age. That was where athletics became a shared, lively, team experience again.

Being Arnage's only U16 became both a challenge and a source of pride. And, with Noël, a chance to improve.

June 2024

In June 2024, in my first year as a U16, I competed at the French UGSEL Championships (the private schools' sports federation) in Strasbourg, finishing eighth with 36.55 m. Two years later, I would be back in Strasbourg.

It was also as a U16 that my versatility really came into its own. Beyond the javelin, I love every discipline in athletics. Trying, learning, improving in every event: versatility became the thread running through it all.

In May 2025, I became regional octathlon champion: eight events over two days.

Trying everything out and doing it well: that's what I enjoy.

Those years forged something deep. They showed that passion isn't always enough, but that it carries you through times of doubt.

They laid the foundations of the athlete I would become: versatile, loyal to my club, driven by competition and open to others.

The rest of the story would be written further afield. But it all began here.

In spring 2025, the next step was already taking shape. The school applications had been sent off. On paper, the plan was clear: move to Poitiers, join a sport-and-study programme, specialise in the javelin.

Yet in my head, things hadn't quite fallen into place. I was still in denial. I thought I could keep doing everything at once: the combined events, the javelin, all-round athletics. I wanted to believe it could all coexist.

Reality, however, always catches up with you in the end.

At the start of the 2025 school year, I became a boarder at the Pôle Espoir in Poitiers, the set-up where the French athletics federation prepares young athletes for elite sport. I was 15. It wasn't a break with my family, but it was a big step: leaving home during the week, seeing my parents and my little sister at weekends, setting off again on Monday morning.

At the centre, I trained with Luc Duquerroy, a federation javelin coach.

The days had a set rhythm: lessons in the morning, training in the afternoon. On Friday evenings, back to Arnage, where I trained with Noël for one more session: more varied, freer, almost a link to who I had always been.

Timothy really wanted to keep that connection with Noël. He was the one who asked to go.

In Poitiers, the environment was impressive. Athletes from very different sports: swimming, boxing, basketball, athletics. Young people already ranked very high. The competition was fierce, the demands relentless.

There, sport could only work if your studies kept up. Sport and studies were one project, and the two went hand in hand. Sport alone wasn't enough.

You can't be good at everything. Combined events demand an immense amount of energy. If you try to do everything at once, you risk losing your way. At this level, you have to choose.

This conversation took place in November 2025, almost in passing, at a training session. I had just done the indoor heptathlon in Nantes: seven events, two days of intense effort, an atmosphere I love. I had even hurt my knee slightly on the high jump run-up. Like an extra warning: the body has its limits too.

This choice took a lot of talking through: with Luc, of course, but also with my parents.

We've been there from day one, through every stage, every step forward, every doubt. We know better than anyone how much sport, and athletics in all its richness, fuels him. For us too, this sacrifice is frustrating. At times we were even in denial together: how could we accept him setting aside a discipline that had shaped him so much, and made him so happy? But supporting him also means accepting reality, even when it's hard to take.

The choice was hard. Very hard. There was frustration. Sadness. A kind of instant nostalgia. Combined events meant camaraderie, whole weekends of competing, intensity, battle after battle. A world where I felt alive, competitive, fully committed.

But it was a necessary sacrifice. Giving up the combined events doesn't mean giving up what makes me who I am. The versatility is still there: hurdles, long jump, high jump and sprinting remain part of my everyday training. No longer as an end in themselves, but as foundations for the javelin. To improve, to get stronger, to keep the enjoyment intact. It isn't about boxing myself in, but about channelling my energy.

From then on, I focused fully on the javelin, leaving the combined events behind. With an openly stated ambition to aim high: a place in the French team, training camps with the best, perhaps the international stage. Not as a promise, but as a demanding goal to work towards, with no guarantees and everything still to build.

Not easy, but I own it. Enjoyment is still the engine. Clear thinking, the safeguard. Hard work, the key.

The road ahead would be tough. But now it was one I had chosen.

At a training camp in Alicante with the Strasbourg group (Théo, Valentin, Louis and Adrien), the difference from Poitiers was that I wasn't alone any more. I had people to train with, people I saw every day. That changes the atmosphere and the way you experience training.

My mum told me that Luc was leaving: he was going off to build a new life. At the time, I was really shocked, lost for words. I had to adapt.

We found out in May that Luc was leaving, two days before we were due to finalise the paperwork for the new year at the Poitiers centre. We were more or less presented with a fait accompli: no more coach in Poitiers. Either stop everything and come back to the Sarthe, or move away.

I hesitated, because family comes first. But sport is my great love. And in Strasbourg, I already had friends: Louis, Théo and Valentin.

For Timothy, the choice was quick and clear: he wanted to carry on with the javelin, so he was ready to go. His decision was the one that would count.

There was already a link between Luc and Jacques: they've known each other for many years. A real handover happened naturally for Timothy.

29 May 2026

2 June 2026

A break from the main season: I won the javelin at the French UNSS High School Championships (the state schools' sports federation) in Angoulême with 52.07 m. I came away with experience and a real mental boost.

In early July, the news came through: I'd been accepted into the Pôle Espoir in Strasbourg.

There was a fair amount of anxiety, and a lot of waiting. Even though we knew Jacques supported Timothy's plans, there was still that uncertainty.

On 5 July, in Laval: 53.67 m. The last two weeks before Charléty: still two throwing sessions a week, technique, weight training, plenty of recovery, high intensity. The goal: to arrive at Charléty with a good vibe between us, and to deliver on the day.

It was my last competition with Luc. I knew it, and I wanted to do something special for him: we had worked together for a year, and a lot can be done in a year.

The day before, not at my best physically, I got through qualifying with 51.42 m.

On the morning of the final, on a Métro escalator, my bag got caught and my javelins snapped, including my Valhalla, a carbon javelin. In the moment, I was really stressed. But in the end, it almost took the pressure off. I had to adapt.

Read the article in Le Maine Libre

In the final, I was seventh after the first throw, then fourth. On the fifth throw: 58.61 m. I took the lead.

Shortly afterwards, Alexandre Peillod responded: 58.72 m. Eleven centimetres further than me.

On the last throw, he still wanted to beat him. But in all that euphoria, you lose your bearings, your check marks.

I was gutted. Really gutted: the title was so close. Even so, I was pleased. Throwing 58.61 m and becoming French runner-up was a huge step for me.

The final was exceptional. A massive throw, and a moment I'll never forget.

The podium, the stadium, the atmosphere: it was brilliant. It's something I want to experience again and again. Luc and I were proud: we couldn't quite believe what we'd just achieved.

18 July 2026

The day after the final, I publicly announced my move to Strasbourg.

First day at the centre: a few short-approach throws to settle in, lots of explanations and new things to discover. A really good day.

You can feel it's another level. He has access to far more resources: coaching, environment, equipment, space, indoors and out.

Jacques's first words? He wanted to know whether everything was OK, whether I liked it, whether I had everything I needed. I said yes to everything.

Jacques is a really great coach.

At the centre, I train in Jacques's group.

Théo, Louis and Valentin are my best friends, almost family: I see them as my big brothers. The group also includes Rémi Conroy, French champion in 2023.

He's lucky to have a good, lively group of passionate kids, and he's very fond of them. I think that drives him and makes him want to see them develop.

My role models: Jan Železný, Kevin Mayer and Armand Duplantis.

At the start of the 2026 school year, I set myself four goals for 2027: throwing beyond 65 metres, ideally 70; the European Youth Olympic Festival (EYOF) in Lignano, Italy; two French titles; the French U18 record.

Ambitious goals, but that's exactly what motivates me.