How cyclocross built its unique identity over 120 years - Belgium’s obsession, France’s invention

Cyclocross didn’t spring from a lab; it sloshed out of winter fields and the need for riders to stay fit when the roads turned hostile. Ask where it began and you’ll land in early-20th-century France, where cyclists threaded farm tracks, hurdled fences, and shouldered their bikes between towns in a muddy steeplechase. Those races, credited in large part to French army private Daniel Gousseau, became France’s first national cyclocross championship by 1902 and set a template for speed and improvisation. A half-century later, the sport held the first UCI cyclocross World Championships in Paris in 1950, won by Tour de France legend Jean Robic.

So no, the sport did not actually begin in Belgium or the Netherlands. That may come as a shock to many. So maybe the winter cousin of road racing has a more interesting history than imagined.

Early road pros were said to race to church spires across fields and ditches, shortcuts encouraged, both to build handling skills and to keep warm when winter numbed toes and fingers. Gousseau, inspired by those rough-terrain rides, formalized the idea into events that required riders to dismount and run, sometimes by rule, sometimes by necessity, baking “portage” into the sport’s DNA.

As the discipline took shape, distances shrank and intensity rose. Courses tightened into short laps of 2.5–3.5 km with grass, sand, off-cambers, steps, and barriers, demanding constant accelerations and near perfect bike handling. Races clustered in autumn and winter, creating a rhythm that complemented road seasons and gave fans a reason to stand in the cold shouting for an hour.

If cyclocross has a cathedral, it sits in Flanders, with the Netherlands singing from the next pew. The reasons are cultural and practical: winter weather that rewards mud-lovers, a dense map of towns that can host compact circuits, and a broadcast ecosystem (hello, Sporza) that treats Sunday cross like ritual.

TV shares can hit staggering heights, Belgium logged an 80.5% audience share for the Worlds in 2023, and regular weekends still pull hundreds of thousands in a region of only a few million. The on-site experience is a carnival of beer tents, DJs, and ringing cowbells, part community fair, part gladiator pit, and a big reason the sport thrives there.

The passion is generational. Kids grow up knowing the lines through Koksijde’s sand, the sting of the Koppenberg ramps, and the names like Sven Nys, Wout Van Aert and Mathieu Van der Poel, that become household currency. Dutch popularity has soared alongside a wave of champions, but Belgian venues remain the weekly heartbeat.

A cyclocross bike looks like a road machine that learned a few tricks in the mud. Frames keep clearance for knobby treads and sticky mud, geometry favours quick steering and stability on off-camber grass, and mounts are kept clear for shouldering, with most racers skipping bottle cages entirely on race day. Braking has long moved from traditional cantilevers to discs, and in top-tier events the UCI limits tires to a maximum width of 33 mm.

Those constraints are the point. Drop-bar control on narrow tires, no suspension, and ever-shifting traction force riders to dance on the edge of grip. Courses mandate dismounts via steps or barriers, and the pit staffed with mechanics and power-washers lets riders swap to a clean bike every lap if conditions demand.

The first official world title in 1950 signalled cyclocross’s coming of age, and the roll of champions since reads like a pan-European ballot. France’s André Dufraisse won five titles in the 1950s, Italy’s Renato Longo matched that in the 1960s, Switzerland’s Albert Zweifel took five between the 1970s and 1980s, and Germany’s Rolf Wolfshohl grabbed three while also winning a Grand Tour on the road. Belgium added a dynasty of its own via Roland Liboton in the 1980s and the all-conquering Erik De Vlaeminck, whose seven elite world crowns stood alone until earlier this year…

Modern cross has been about two men, two men who balance their winter with a full season on the road too. We are of course talking about Wout van Aert and Mathieu van der Poel, who toggle between cross, monuments, and Tour de France stages while duelling each winter for supremacy.

Whilst in recent years Van der Poel has stretched clear of Van Aert, we mustn’t forget that for much of the 2010s and early 2020s, the duo were inseparable. Now, Van der Poel has seven cyclocross rainbow jerseys, and Van Aert has three to his name. The Dutchman will be aiming to win a record eighth in early 2026, and he should be the firm favourite too.

Former British champion John Atkins captured the discipline’s nature with a line to The Times that still circulates: “It’s not who’s fastest, it’s who crashes least.” The quote endures because it explains why technical mastery is as valuable as brute force when the course is iced or the sand is bottomless. Even at the highest level, race-winning moves often look like tiny corrections done a hundred times per lap.

The women’s elite world championship only began in 2000, but the roll of winners since then already has its titans. Marianne Vos sits alone with a record eight rainbow jerseys, meaning she is likely the GOAT on and off the road. After a Belgian surge led by Sanne Cant’s three-peat from 2017–2019, the Netherlands has produced a new wave, Fem van Empel, Puck Pieterse, Lucinda Brand, who’ve turned the front of races into orange processions and pushed the sport to new audiences. Van Empel, in particular, has reeled off world titles in 2023 and 2024 and then again in 2025. She will be the favourite for a fourth title this winter.

When Vos, Brand, or van Empel line up, casual fans tune in, and organizers respond with bigger venues and improved TV production. The results feed back into junior participation and national programs, strengthening the pipeline. The women’s calendar now mirrors the men’s in prestige, and often produces more exciting races than the men’s.

Ask insiders to name the greatest male cyclocrosser of all time and you’ll hear three names on loop. Erik De Vlaeminck’s seven world titles set a benchmark across generations; Sven Nys, with two world championships, a half-century of World Cup wins and a museum’s worth of Superprestige and series titles; and Mathieu van der Poel has simply taken things to another level over the last decade.

On the women’s side, the argument is simpler. Marianne Vos’s eight world titles, across a span that also includes road and track world championships and Olympic gold on the road, give her a résumé unmatched in cycling, full stop. Sanne Cant’s three-year reign and record haul of Belgian titles engrave her in any shortlist, and Fem van Empel’s three-peat through 2025 positions her as the heir apparent - even coming from the same hometown, and being teammates with Vos as of October 2025.

It’s tempting to lump cyclocross with its dirt cousins, but the differences are structural. Cross is short-course and spectatorial, built around laps that put riders in front of fans every few minutes and encourage errors under pressure. Equipment is deliberately constrained, whilst gravel and mountain bike embrace somewhat more variety, wider rubber, and longer, terrain-driven formats.

That design keeps the sport tight, telegenic, and easy to host near city centers. It also explains why road superstars keep returning each winter: the handling dividends are bankable, and the audience is immediate.

Cyclocross is still rooted in Europe, but its map keeps redrawing. The United States has built robust domestic calendars, hosted the 2013 and 2022 World Championships, and the sport continues to grow in popularity across the pond.

On the men’s side Tom Pidcock was the champion in 2022, but he is the only non Dutch or Belgian male to win the cross rainbow jersey in the last decade. On the women’s side, all time great cyclists Pauline Ferrand-Prevot was the queen of cross for France back in 2015.

Cyclocross emerged as a sport in the early-1900s with French riders, and the UCI’s 1950 world championship gave it a global passport. Since then, tight courses, strict equipment rules, and winter-weekend rituals in Belgium and the Netherlands have made it both cult and cornerstone.

Today’s stars carry that heritage forward on bikes that look simple by design, in front of crowds that treat the mud like a badge of honor. And in the words of John Atkins, the sport’s truth hasn’t changed: it’s not always about who’s fastest; often, it’s about who stays upright when the course tries to pull you down.

So, you may have felt somewhat downtrodden when the road season ended in mid-October. But fear not, cross is coming. And in a few years, Cyclocross may also become a winter Olympics' sport, which would change the its dynamic and history forever.