Records

Chasing the Peloton

Cycling is, to my mind, the most proletarian of sports: watched for free from the roadside, offered to whoever is willing to wait, cheer, and suffer alongside the riders, with no ticket separating spectator from effort. During my years in Leuven, I went to see races whenever I could. The calendar was full, and the roads were close. It is harder now, from Sicily, but the desire has not gone. I still want to be there, at the roadside, when a race passes.

Chasing the Peloton follows that desire. The wheel is a figure of recurrence: it carries effort forward while returning endlessly to itself, the rider’s body absorbed into rhythm, resistance, and repetition. These sequences preserve what remains after the race has passed: the residue of shared exertion on streets briefly transformed by a moving centre of collective attention.