A Day That Took My Breath Away: Watching World-Class Racing — Niseko Classic 2026

Our office was a sponsor of the 2026 UCI Gran Fondo World Championships Niseko (commonly known as Niseko Classic 2026). Here, though, I would like to set the sponsor’s role aside and write frankly about what I felt at the event as an ordinary spectator.

This was the first time I had ever watched a road cycling race up close on public roads—and a world-level one at that. It was, I think, a wonderfully extravagant “spectating debut.”

Riders who had come through qualifying rounds from all over the world had gathered here, ranging in age from their twenties all the way to their eighties. There were separate categories for men and women, and the field was strikingly diverse.

The first thing that astonished me was how thin the tires were—and how fast the riders went. “Is this really a bicycle, with no engine on board…?” I found myself doubting my own eyes again and again. At the corner just past the starting line, dozens of bikes leaned into the turn and swept through all at once—a sight so beautiful it took my breath away.

It was a mountain course with climbs and descents (the total elevation gain was announced as over 2,500 meters), run over a long distance of 140 kilometers (or 80 kilometers). Watching people of all ages and both sexes pedal with all their might moved me deeply. At a corner near the end of the course (after seeing the riders off at the start, I moved to the HANAZONO area to watch before the road closures began), I waved broadly and rang my cowbell, and rider after rider returned a smile or called out “Thank you!” Each time, my heart swelled.

A rider setting off from the same hotel as us, with a slightly tense look on their face. A rider pressing on despite a fresh, raw wound from a fall along the way. A rider whose legs had cramped, dismounting to massage them and then riding off again. A rider waiting for the support car after a mechanical problem, making adjustments alone, then slowly setting off once more. Ah, every one of them—truly remarkable.

I found myself wondering: did the riders, teams, and the families and friends who accompanied them from overseas enjoy the race, enjoy Niseko, enjoy Japan, before heading home? And the Japanese riders who came from outside Hokkaido—did they enjoy Hokkaido, enjoy Niseko?

And we must not forget the staff who drove the lead cars, the support vehicles, and the camera motorcycles. I was completely captivated by the sheer skill of their driving. Riding as graceful as a police motorcycle officer’s; the practiced ease of the person seated behind on the tandem of the camera bike—every bit of it was a joy to watch. It brought back fond memories of riding motorcycles with my husband and friends in my younger days, and of heading out to the circuit to cheer on races.

And to the many staff who prepared and cleared everything so efficiently, and to everyone handling security and traffic control—thank you for putting on such a wonderful event. To everyone who designed the striking posters, the pamphlets, and the merchandise, too: well done.

For all that it was the grand stage of a world championship, there was something warm and homey about it. This one day spent in Niseko in summer became a truly unforgettable time. I sincerely hope that this splendid event will continue for years to come, together with the region.

Toshiko Takahashi