Former Jumbo-Visma rider Hessmann returned from suspension as a different Michel: “I’m thankful to NADA and WADA in that respect”

What happened again? On 14 June 2023, an out-of-competition test found a trace amount of chlortalidone (a diuretic) in Hessmann’s urine. Germany’s NADA and WADA both concluded it was plausible he had ingested contaminated medication such as paracetamol, ibuprofen, or naproxen. German prosecutors had already dropped the case earlier.

In June 2024, NADA suspended Hessmann for four months, backdated by three months, which would have allowed him to race again at the end of July. WADA appealed, and Hessmann ultimately reached a settlement that meant he could return to competition from 14 March 2025.

Hessmann has not raced for the Dutch team since July 2023, but in this interview he still speaks fluent Dutch. “I still follow cycling news in Dutch, because they’re much quicker than in Germany. That way I can keep up a little,” he says, smiling.

How does it feel to be a pro cyclist again for six months now?
'Hah.'

(He pauses.) “It’s a completely different life again, and I experience it differently than I used to. I got a brief chance to taste a ‘normal’ life—at least as normal as you can be with a legal case hanging over you.” (Dutch excerpt: ‘…om aan een normaal leven te ruiken…’) “But it’s still more normal than life as a cyclist, and it has brought lasting changes. I won’t be the same cyclist or the same person, but I wouldn’t want to change anything about it.”

Tell us more.
“I’ve gained a very different perspective,” he explains. “The worst-case scenario of ending up in a ‘normal life’… it’s actually not that bad. It has given me a different perspective on cycling. Being a cyclist—and someone like Ide Schelling will say the same—is a really special life.”

“I can now say it’s not worth more than everything else anymore,” he continues, “it has become more a part of my life. I do it because it’s my passion, but not more than that.”

So during your time with (the development squad of) Jumbo-Visma you were mainly focused on improving, eating, training…
“I was already far too good as a junior, which is actually a shame,” Hessmann says. “You never reach the phase where you really have to think about what you want to do.” “I ended up in Jumbo’s development team, living in a house in Sittard… a great situation, but you do nothing except cycling.”

You were always Michel, the one-dimensional cyclist.
“Exactly. You never actively choose cycling—and after the suspension, I did. My life now is completely different: I live in Freiburg, I have a normal social environment, and every time I leave, it’s a shame. I’m also at university, and I wouldn’t want to change any of that. If cycling swallowed things up so much that it wasn’t possible anymore, I would stop.”

“Don’t get me wrong: cycling is still the priority and I want to get the very best out of it,” he adds, “but I don’t feel so one-dimensional anymore. That also means I can enjoy it more.”

Did you ever have moments where you were truly done with it?
“When that legal case was ongoing, I felt I would only keep going if nothing stuck,” he says. “At the end, I felt I was going against my principles by not taking it further. But it made me so sad that I wouldn’t be able to experience cycling anymore, that I wanted to see what was still possible. That was only right at the end.”

What did you do during the suspension, besides—what I followed on Strava—running insanely
“Yeah, I even ran a marathon,” he laughs. “But that wasn’t the plan at all.” “There were days I was really angry and I had to get rid of that negative energy.” “I left home in 35 degrees, no running top, and I just kept going—until I was so far away that it turned into a marathon.” “I think I spent about 30 euros at petrol stations because it was a Sunday and I had to drink something. The time wasn’t great—about 3:30. But then again, it was only my third run of the year.”

And beyond that.
“I managed to rebuild my social life,” he says. “That was impossible as a cyclist. I already did an online degree, but now I had the time to actually go to the University of Freiburg.”

What are you studying?
“Philosophy,” Hessmann answers. “I find it really interesting. It’s very different.”

That must have helped in the situation you were in.
“Exactly,” he nods. “You’re in a totally different environment. If you study medicine, you’re around a lot of athletes, but philosophy isn’t like that. There are many people who basically never exercise.”

Did that lead to interesting conversations?
“When I said I wanted to be a pro cyclist again—and we didn’t know each other long—they didn’t understand it at all,” he says. “They were like: why would you want that? It sounds awful, putting yourself through so much pain. I’d never really thought about it that way. In my bubble, it was the other way around: people didn’t understand if I said I wanted to stop with the talent I had.”

A completely different mindset.
“Yeah. And another thing: I had to leave my apartment because it was too expensive, so I moved into a student house—shared apartment. And I’m still there, because it’s just nicer to come home and be around people instead of alone in a bigger apartment.”

Who do you live with?
“With a friend from mountain biking and a female friend who has nothing to do with cycling,” he says. “Those are things that would never have happened if I’d stayed in the cyclist life. Maybe I’d have a better bank account or a palmarès, but honestly I’m so grateful it happened to me.”

You’re not richer financially, but Michel the person has become much richer.
“And I’d always pay the same price,” he laughs, “so in that respect I say thank you to NADA and WADA.”

How were you received back in the peloton at all?
“Very positively,” he says. “Most riders—even those I barely knew—said it was beautiful that I was back. Everyone has that fear that something like this could happen to them…”

Would Richard Plugge do that too?
“No,” Hessmann smiles, “but that’s more of a cultural difference. And I have to say: they—and especially Richard—treated me very well, as far as they could. They were fair with me, and I’m very grateful for that.”

“The best thing after my suspension was coming back to the Visma bus and chatting with those people again.”

And what was it like during your suspension?
“We had such a good group from the development team,” he says. “I spoke regularly with five or six of those guys—Archie Ryan among them—and also with a few riders and staff from the WorldTeam. That was really great. But it’s still cycling and not many friendships remain. When you’re out, you’re quickly in a different world. Maybe you keep three friends after the first five weeks, when everyone wants to help.”

Does that make you feel alone?
“I didn’t really need people around me in that way,” he says. “I was happy I didn’t live in Sittard anymore or somewhere full of cyclists. My home was in Freiburg and I was good there.”

Didn't you feel the need to tell your story publicly?
“Yes, very much at the start,” he admits. “And I was angry at the people who told me I shouldn’t, but now I’m grateful to them.” “In the end it only costs energy, and people will think what they want anyway.”

You were out for a year and a half—so you can probably say how much faster the peloton has become…
“I had a long training period up to my comeback in March and I thought: I’m going to be really good,” he says. “My numbers were better than ever, but I still got a reality check. Only after the Vuelta did I feel it was coming back again.”

How are things looking for 2026?
“I’d like to try the Flemish classics one day, but also keep doing my work for the leaders,” Hessmann says. “That combination motivates me. And I’d like to invest more in time trialling. At Movistar we have Iván Velasco, who is unbelievably good at it. At Visma you have a support staff of 10 people; he does almost all of that work on his own, with so much motivation.”

Are you linked up with Cian Uijtdebroeks, who also speaks Dutch?
“We’re roommates and we’ll race Valencia and Paris–Nice together, so I think it’s a good match,” Hessmann says.

Maybe your different view of cycling—and the last two and a half years—can help him too.
“I was that hungry rider when I was young, and maybe that’s changed a little,” he says. “But honestly: when I’m on the bus before a race, I’m still far from calm. In that sense, I’m still the same Michel.”