“It didnt make me happy to just ride along” – Wout van Aert admits he has struggled mentally dealing with lasting effects of 2024 crashes

Wout van Aert enters the winter with a clearer sense of who he is as a rider — but getting to that point took longer, and cut deeper, than most realised.

Speaking candidly to Het Nieuwsblad after what he describes as one of the hardest years of his career, the 31-year-old reflected on the mental fallout from his brutal 2024 season and how a quieter, risk-averse approach early this year almost broke the joy he once took for granted.

He may have ended 2025 with two victories that will live in the memory — that explosive triumph on the gravel into Siena and, of course, dropping Tadej Pogacar on Montmartre — but the road that led there was messy, fragile and full of moments when the sport felt more draining than fulfilling.

Van Aert didn’t hide from the uncomfortable truth: the scars of 2024 followed him far more stubbornly into 2025 than he expected.

At times in the spring, he said he found himself caught between relief at avoiding danger and frustration at feeling unable to fully commit. “Then I didn’t dare throw myself into it, and I was balancing between being glad that I didn’t crash, but frustrated that I wasn’t in position,” he said.

He recognised quickly that the overly cautious style he drifted into wasn’t who he was at all. “I found out that it didn’t make me happy to just ride along.”

This wasn’t a question of fitness or form alone. He openly accepted that positioning problems — glaring during some of the biggest Classics — were amplified by hesitation, not just legs.

Where earlier versions of Van Aert would instinctively dive into gaps, this year he often checked himself. Coming to terms with that shift was a complicated but necessary step. “I maybe made too big a thing of it, because I noticed I was in position when I wasn’t thinking about it,” he said.

The reset only truly arrived once the Tour de France was behind him. Van Aert chose a quieter autumn, but found it unsatisfying — a reminder of his competitive DNA. “I rode a handful of races without pressure to perform, and because of that I didn’t reach my best level and was just sort of there. Looking back, I’d have been better off skipping those, because I didn’t really enjoy them,” he admitted.

That period crystallised what he now sees as essential: he needs to race at the limit, not merely participate. “I now know very clearly that racing for me means reaching my absolute highest level and giving everything.”

One of the year’s most public flashpoints came at Dwars door Vlaanderen, where Visma lost a three-against-one advantage to American rider Neilson Powless. The spotlight quickly centred on Van Aert, who chose to sprint himself rather than set up a teammate — a move he regretted immediately.

“I was extremely disappointed in myself because when I made the decision to sprint, I wasn’t staying true to who I am,” he said. He wanted the win too badly, worried a teammate might take the chance from him.

Crucially, his teammates and DS Grischa Niermann didn’t pile on. The support he felt was grounding, not crushing. “It helped me enormously that I didn’t feel any frustration or anger from anyone towards me,” Van Aert said.

The hunger to win was still there — the instinct, the drive — but he knew the decision had been wrong. Not embarrassing, not catastrophic, just wrong.

As the season began, the outside world expected Van Aert to immediately rediscover his old level. That expectation, he admitted, lingered more than he realised.

Demi Vollering publicly defended him on social media, pointing out how top athletes sometimes make imperfect choices under pressure — especially when the outside world has no idea what storms they’re managing internally.

Van Aert didn’t disagree. “You might not primarily want to win for yourself, but more to say: look, I can still win,” he said. Not for headlines, not for haters — but to reassure himself.

And that sense of needing an answer grew as the performances in Opening Weekend and the E3 Saxo Classic didn’t come. “Without even realising it, you maybe want to give an answer to that,” he reflected.

Ultimately, the thread running through everything he said — from the spring doubts to the autumn frustration — was the search for joy. Not comfort. Not safety. Actual fulfilment.

That feeling returned in Siena, under the dust and chaos of the Giro, when he won despite not believing the day suited him at all. “There aren’t many wins where the feeling comes close. I get goosebumps talking about it,” he said. “It was a difficult period that finally turned into something positive. Everything came together.”

It was a turning point that came from a place of genuine struggle. Earlier in that Giro he admitted, “On day five I wondered whether it even made sense to stay.” But the victory flipped the emotional script.