07 / Field note5 min read

Algiers.
Beyond the finish line.

Five race days in Algeria with my son Levi. About the work behind the riders, the adventure of elite sport and a borrowed wheel that meant more than a result.

By Sander Oord05 October 2026AI Lead + Lead Designer

RETURN illustration of Sander Oord smiling and making a peace sign at a petrol station in Zéralda, Algeria — A little peace sign from Zéralda. My petrol-station portrait, translated into RETURN’s illustration style.

I am writing this from Algeria. My son Levi is here to race. I am here with bottles, spare wheels, a camera and a very good reason to be proud.

If you know me through design, AI or photography, you may not know this part of my life. Levi is nineteen and races at a high level. Through him, cycling has become a world I am closely involved in: the racing itself, of course, but also everything that makes it possible.

He has been invited to compete here in the Grand Prix programme around Algiers. There are five race days in all: a three-day stage race and two separate one-day races. It brings us into the international world of the UCI Africa Tour. And it has brought me somewhere I would probably never have travelled on my own.

Levi riding close beside the team car, wearing a blue kit, white helmet and race number 124 — Levi, seen from close beside the race. A perspective that comes with being part of the support team.

The work behind the riders.

I am here as a support person. I ride in the team car, organise bottles and help with spare wheels when someone punctures. I help with the journey and the practical arrangements. In between, I make photographs.

It is a role made up of small, concrete things. A filled bottle. A wheel ready when it is needed. Helping the riders get where they need to be. None of those things wins a race on its own, but they are part of giving someone the chance to race well.

I enjoy being useful in that way. You are close to the action, paying attention to what is happening and ready to respond. And as a father, there is another layer to it: I get to be alongside Levi while he takes on something demanding.

Sander holding out a water bottle from the roadside as a group of cyclists approaches — A bottle, held out at the right moment. One of the small jobs behind a race.

Spare bicycle wheels and water bottles lined up against a stone wall, with a resting cyclist behind them — The support side of the sport: wheels, bottles and being ready.

The mentality that draws me in.

I am not an elite athlete myself. But elite sport has a place in my heart. I love the commitment it asks of people: working towards something difficult, finding out what you are capable of and returning to it when things do not go to plan.

There is an adventurous side to that mentality too. You put yourself in situations you cannot completely predict. You prepare as well as you can, then you have to deal with what happens. That is part of what makes being here so compelling.

This time, pushing boundaries has also meant crossing a border. Getting our visas arranged took a lot of effort. Before we could think about bottles or wheels, we had to make the journey possible. Now we are here, and what was an unfamiliar place on a map has become the place where our days are unfolding.

Levi pouring water from a bottle over his helmet while riding on a sunlit road — Water, effort and the next stretch of road.

Levi in a low racing position on his bicycle, photographed through the team car window — From the car window: Levi focused on the road ahead.

A borrowed wheel.

On our first race day, Levi punctured. In a race, that can change everything very quickly. You need help, and you need it while the race continues without waiting for you.

On that occasion, help did not come from the Slovak team. It came from the Saudi Arabian team. They lent Levi a wheel so he could continue.

That is a moment I will remember. A rider from another team needed something, and they made it possible for him to keep going. The competition was still there. So was the willingness to help.

When I say that sport brings people together, this is what I mean. Sometimes it is as practical as handing someone a wheel. It is a small action with a very real consequence, and it says more to me than a slogan could.

Riders and support staff from different teams sitting together in the shade beside their bicycles and bottles — Between the racing: riders and support staff sharing a patch of shade.

Sometimes connection looks like a borrowed wheel.
A moment from our first race day.

The world gets a little closer.

Being here means meeting new people and encountering a different culture through something we share. We do not all come from the same place or speak the same language. But we understand the effort of a race, the urgency of a puncture and the relief when someone can carry on.

That shared purpose opens a door. It makes you look beyond the unfamiliar and pay attention to the people in front of you. The world feels less distant when you are part of something together.

My camera gives me another way to stay attentive. I want to keep the photographs of Levi on the bike, but also the bottles being handed out, the spare wheels and the riders sitting together afterwards. Those are part of this journey too.

Sander smiling and making a peace sign at a petrol station in Zéralda — The original moment in Zéralda. Glad to be here.

Glad to be alongside it.

For now, I am still in the middle of this trip. There are races to support, photographs to make and things to organise.

I am proud that Levi is here. I love seeing him take on this level of racing, and I love that I can play a small part in making it happen.

What I am enjoying is bigger than the racing alone: the commitment, the adventure and the people we meet along the way. I get to help, to watch and to share in it. That feels like a privilege.