Before pitching a piece like this to the editorial team, in this tone, I thought long and hard about it. Not for nothing, but because I too belong to that legion of chronic losers who – perhaps because of my generation, but also because of the way I was raised, educated, and shaped by what I’ve read and watched – still believe, if not too blindly or devoutly, in magic. So before even thinking of writing an article with the words “winning” and “Van Aert” in the title, I gave it a lot of thought, knocked on wood, and in any case I’d like to apologize in advance to the many loyal followers of the Belgian rider. The fact is, seeing Wout van Aert win is a privilege for us, for those racing alongside him, and for his teammates too – not to mention how crucial he has been, for example, these days at the Vuelta, to Brennan’s successes (at the time of writing, the 21-year-old Englishman has taken 5 stages, 4 of them with the Belgian’s help). And there’s no need to bring up the Dutch team’s past successes either – we’ve talked about them already, and it would take a whole book to do them justice, who knows. Each of his victories seems to come from a deeper, darker, more human place than the one cycling usually allows. There are riders who win because they have to – because of their role, their salary, their genetics. Van Aert, instead, wins like a beautiful season after a long winter: a relief as much as a triumph.
Two stages at the Vuelta, in the span of just a few days. Two finishes that do not change the history of cycling – not really – but that do change ours a little, and his too. For those of us who supported him through the dark moments and know what it means to see him like this again – fierce, surgical, at peace with the road – it means watching him return to doing what he does best: winning. Only then can we say that Van Aert has gone back to being Van Aert, and that is enough.
The privilege lies entirely here: in being able to witness an athlete who has never stopped being great, who this season has found both rhythm and victories, who that day at Roubaix… well, that day at Roubaix… Who has been through it all, and we know it: crashes and surgeries, illnesses and wasted springs, redemptions and abysses. And we were there, watching him struggle, searching his every gesture for a sign, a flash, a clue that might say: he’s coming back. And then, after yet another setback that only a few months ago ruled him out of the Tour, here he is: he’s back.
The two victories at the Vuelta are not just two victories. They are a declaration of existence. They are the moment when a rider finds the thread again and pulls it tight, with a fury that turns into gratitude. Gratitude toward cycling, yes, toward the road, and toward those who waited for him. Gratitude toward himself, above all.
That is why seeing him win is always a privilege, because we know what lies behind it. We know what it has cost him. We know that every meter of those two stages was a meter stolen from bad luck, fear, and doubt. We know that he is not winning to prove something to others, but to prove something to himself: that he is still there, that he is not finished, that cycling has taken nothing from him that he cannot win back. Roubaix, and then these stages at the Vuelta – but more broadly, a 2026 in which he has reached an extraordinary level, perhaps one of the very best of his career.
In two weeks, the World Championships are in Canada. We do not know what will happen, and that is perfectly fine. He does not need to win. He does not need to put on a show. He does not need to become a rainbow-jersey van Aert. He only needs to be this van Aert – the one who has found the road again, found himself again, the one who has started winning again for himself and for others too, because that is how he likes it, and don’t give him a hard time if – or rather, when – he tears himself to pieces to help a teammate win.