Before anything else, it’s important to explain a few things that may not be obvious to someone outside the world of cycling. To do that, I need to go back to where it all began — to my first encounters with cycling photography.

In 2017, out of simple curiosity, I started attending local races in Mexico City. My goal was to capture the energy of a sport I practiced as a hobby and used as my daily means of transportation.

As I became more immersed in cycling —both as a sport and a lifestyle— I started riding longer distances and meeting more cyclists. Many of them, deeply passionate about national and international competitions, invited me to document their personal challenges —including riding all 21 stages of the Tour de France in 2023 and 2024.

Those grand tours changed my perspective. I discovered France in a way few travelers do: beyond its famous cities, through vast mountain ranges and tiny villages that hold the marks of time on their streets and walls. Each stage connected geography, history, and human endurance in a single story.

In 2025, my goal shifted. I wanted to understand how this discipline is lived from the inside —at the level of high-performance competition. I had the privilege of being one of two photographers documenting the entire season of the A.R. Monex Procycling Team, from preseason training to the European racing calendar.

I’ve never really thought of myself as a specialist photographer; I’m more of an explorer of light. This was the perfect opportunity to merge my knowledge of studio photography, lighting, editorial portraiture, and sports imagery into something cohesive —a way to capture each rider in a striking, elegant, and dynamic way.

These portraits set a new visual tone that many European teams soon began to follow —a style that anticipated what several sports photographers are only now beginning to explore.

The images weren’t just individual presentations of each cyclist; they became part of the team’s visual archive, used by the design and marketing departments for corporate materials, press releases, blog entries, and race lineups —the rosters that define a team’s identity.

In 2025, A.R. Monex divided its athletic program into four teams: Allievi (ages 15–16), U19 (17–18), U23 (19–22), and Elite Women (23 and older). The season’s documentation was split between two photographers according to the High-Performance division’s schedule.

I was assigned to the Elite Women’s Team, though I also covered other categories whenever the race calendars didn’t overlap.

Right from the start, I noticed a stark contrast with my previous experiences in France. My earlier work had focused on framing cyclists within vast natural landscapes —something that wasn’t possible this time, as most Italian races unfolded through urban circuits and narrow village streets.

Movement was often limited; I depended on the team staff to access key points such as feed zones. Sometimes, I managed to use my bike to follow part of the route. Other times, I simply walked the course with my gear, searching for the right spot or the right light. Each day became part of my learning process —a lesson in flowing with the rhythm of the race and adapting to the unpredictability of competition.

What makes covering competitive cycling so addictive? I think the answer is deeply personal —different for everyone.

For me, it’s the constant transformation of perception: the nervous anticipation before the first international race, the pressure to capture the team’s best moments, and the effort to understand how the peloton moves as one —flowing through corners and narrow passages in a visual dance that reveals effort, pain, joy, and heartbreak.

Within that chaos, there’s a powerful sense of brotherhood and camaraderie —not only among teammates but also between rival teams.

Each race offered a new opportunity for victory, and for me, a new chance to frame their dedication and emotion. I learned to recognize many riders, to celebrate their achievements, and to share my own vision of their effort through the images I captured.

That constant chase for the emblematic shot became my addiction —that rush of adrenaline to capture the defining image before running to the next location, hoping to do it again and again.

This year, the urban landscape of Italian cycling fed my soul and visual culture —its people, its passion, its language, and its coffee.

I returned to France to explore new routes and revisit familiar ones, discovered new countries, and witnessed new racing formats. I walked and rode in temperatures above 40°C (something entirely new to me), suffered dehydration for the first time after sprinting from one point to another, and carried the weight of heavy lenses on my back every single race.

More than once, I found myself in tears when hearing our riders’ names announced during a race. I learned to see and appreciate their progress, because every time they —and their male teammates— went out to chase glory, they gave me the chance to capture that fleeting, powerful moment. The season came to an end in late September 2025. By then, the bond between athlete and photographer had become something solid and genuine. It didn’t come too early or too late —it came exactly when it was meant to. The trust we built, the friendship that grew along the way —I wouldn’t change a thing.

I write this as both a personal and professional testimony. Covering an entire season of competitive cycling showed me the true meaning of commitment, resilience, and passion. —Thank you for that, Anet, Anto, Ari, Cyn, Gae, Marce, Mayte and Yare—.

I’m left hungry for more —to discover new places, cultures, and flavors; to climb more hills and chase more miles; to witness more raised arms crossing finish lines and those heartfelt embraces that celebrate shared struggle and triumph.

Now, I wait for the next race —camera in hand— hoping it will once again take me back to Europe, where I’ve seen Mexican cyclists grow, persist, and give their all for the sport we love.