TOUR: Moran, your name sounds Dutch, but you live in Austria, on the Dachstein. How did that come about?
VERMEULEN: For once, I can’t take the blame for that (grins). Seriously: my parents were both cross-country skiers for the Dutch national team. During their professional careers, they always used to go to Ramsau in Styria, and they’ve been living there for many years. I was born here, and my brother Mika was born two years later.
TOUR: Have you got some winter genes too?
VERMEULEN: Full steam ahead! Cross-country skiing, ski jumping, biathlon. We really did everything to do with winter and snow. Cross-country skiing in the valley, ski touring off-piste, downhill skiing. Always flat out. Until cycling magically drew me in. That’s when I put my cross-country skis away in the corner.
My brother carried on, winning European and World Championship titles at junior level. At senior level, he is a two-time Austrian champion. Over the past three years, he has been ranked in the top ten in the overall World Cup standings. I’m really proud of my little brother.
TOUR: When did you start cycling?
VERMEULEN: At the age of 19. Although I couldn’t really ride a road bike back then. I lacked the basics, as I’d never taken part in any cycle races as a teenager. Nevertheless, I won my first amateur race in St. Lorenzen near Knittelfeld in Styria. Looking back, it was more down to luck than skill. (laughs). Because the first race went so incredibly well, I was absolutely convinced that a week later, in my first elite race, I’d show the lads who’s boss.
TOUR: So, did it work out?
VERMEULEN: After three kilometres, the whole field had already left me behind. One lap later, they took me out of the race. But at least from then on I knew that gross overconfidence and a lack of skill aren’t the best foundations for a road cycling career (laughs). I was absolutely devastated that day. My father, who was coaching me at the time, simply said: ‘We’ll take our time to look at your results, analyse everything and draw the right conclusions.’ ‘Sounds good,’ I thought.
After that, I trained like a man possessed for weeks and months. I did everything I could to become a good and successful professional cyclist.
I didn’t just want to take part in the Tour de France and classics such as Milan–San Remo and Paris–Roubaix; I wanted to win them.
TOUR: You won a few races, but it soon became clear that it wouldn’t be enough for a major professional career …
VERMEULEN: For 99 per cent of people, sport is not a
Business model. They run it for ideological reasons. I was one of them, too. After all, I was once a cup winner in Austria.
TOUR: Then came 4 September 2023. What happened then?
VERMEULEN: I was travelling around Italy, sleeping in my VW Transporter, and getting ready for training near Monte Grappa. It was, really, a day like any other. As I was driving up a mountain pass somewhere near Vicenza, I suddenly became extremely restless from one second to the next. It was just like a thunderstorm building up on a hot summer’s day – that’s what it felt like inside me. Inside, it was lightning and thundering like mad. Looking back, my doctors and psychologists explained to me that it had probably been a panic attack.
TOUR: Can you still remember that experience?
VERMEULEN: I was wearing a heart rate monitor and could see what was happening on the cycle computer. One second my heart rate was 90, then within two seconds it shot up to 160, only to plummet straight back down again. My whole body was under such immense stress – the likes of which I’d never experienced before. It was like a rollercoaster ride that never seemed to end. On top of that, I felt an endless sadness, a void, inside me. I could have cried for the entire 20 to 25 minutes of the drive up; I was infinitely sad, completely downhearted.
TOUR: What happened next?
VERMEULEN: I kept telling myself that old saying: ‘Everything will turn out fine in the end, and if it isn’t fine, then it isn’t the end’. When I reached the top of the pass, however, nothing was fine at all. Although the panic attack had subsided somewhat, my determination shot up. ‘That’s it,’ I said. ‘I don’t want to do this any more, I can’t do this any more, I won’t do this any more.’
I’m now unfastening the strap on my helmet and racing down the hill on my road bike. I’m going to crash head-on into the first car coming towards me at full speed and with full force. Head first!
I wanted it to look like an accident. The plan was actually a good one, apart from the fact that I would have dragged an innocent motorist into it. But my plan didn’t work out. There simply weren’t any cars about at the time I was out and about. Down in the valley, I sat down by a well, feeling sad. ‘Actually, today was – and still is – a good day to die,’ I thought. And me? I failed at failing!
TOUR: Do you have any idea what might have put you in this state?
VERMEULEN: The sun was shining, the birds were chirping, and I felt great. Everything was actually fine.
TOUR: Did you have any stress? Any problems?
VERMEULEN: For years, I had a problem with myself.
TOUR: What do you mean by that?
VERMEULEN: To be honest, for as long as I can remember, I’ve been putting myself down. I’ve compared myself to others and told myself that I can’t do this or that. Whenever something didn’t work out – as happens to everyone in the world – I’d say to myself: ‘See, Moran: you are, and always will be, nothing but a daft sort, a complete fool!’
TOUR: Why did you call yourself such names?
VERMEULEN: That’s something I’ll need to work out with my psychotherapist in our next sessions. I can’t think of a reason either. At least not yet. My parents love me, as do my grandparents, my brother and my girlfriend. There’s no reason. Actually.
TOUR: Has this happened to you often before?
VERMEULEN: I’ve often found myself wondering: How can I kill myself?
TOUR: Weren’t you able to get any help? There are services such as telephone counselling and helplines that are there for people in situations like this.
VERMEULEN: At that moment, I didn’t want any help.
I was preoccupied with carrying out my suicide, not with preventing it.
I thought about it: should I throw myself in front of a train? But that would traumatise both the train driver and my family. Should I take sleeping tablets? Hang myself? Or jump off a bridge? The problem was: any of those would have looked like suicide. But I didn’t want my parents to have to live with that. It sounds strange, but the whole situation was extremely tricky for me. That’s why I was glad to have come up with the perfect idea up there on the pass.
TOUR: Haven’t you ever told anyone about it?
VERMEULEN: No.
TOUR: Why not?
VERMEULEN: I’ve promised myself that it will never happen again.
TOUR: So?
VERMEULEN: It’s happened again. I flew to Rhodes for a training camp with my Vorarlberg team. But I’d torn a tendon in my finger shortly before and couldn’t really train with the lads. There was no question of racing. So I started beating myself up about it again. I could hardly sleep at night. Then I fell ill. It was absolute hell. I sat down on the balcony and thought: ‘Right, if I jump headfirst off here now, it’ll all be over.’ It might look like suicide, but that’s just how it is. I was absolutely determined to jump.
TOUR: What stopped you from doing it?
VERMEULEN: I knew my brother had a ski race in Norway that day; he should be on a plane to Austria right now. I said to myself: ‘Moran, if you can’t get hold of him now, at least you’ll have tried. Then you’ll take the plunge!’ I rang him. And he answered. His flight had been delayed. ‘Hello? Is anyone there?’ he asked. ‘Moran, is that you?’ At first I couldn’t say a word. Then the dam burst. Crying and sobbing, I told him that I wasn’t feeling very well at the moment. We spoke on the phone for hours; he missed his flight. I didn’t mention the suicide attempt. Back home, things came to a head. Before the official team presentation, I opened up to the head of Team Vorarlberg and told him everything. Absolutely everything. We decided that I would step back from cycling for the time being. We explained this to the media at the press conference. My family and friends found out about it from the newspapers.
TOUR: How did your family react?
VERMEULEN: They didn’t accuse me of anything; they just wanted one thing: to help me! My GP urged me to get in touch with the University Clinic for Psychiatry, Psychotherapy and Psychosomatics in Salzburg straight away. So I sent them an email, and just a few minutes later the phone rang. I then told them everything. I thought my situation might be a bit dicey. The doctors spoke of a ‘red alert’.
TOUR: What was the diagnosis?
VERMEULEN: Severe depression and eating disorders, which is why we immediately arranged a number of therapy sessions. In addition, they prescribed me an antidepressant. And a medication used to treat schizophrenia and bipolar disorder.
TOUR: How are you today?
VERMEULEN: Much better. I’ve learnt that I’m simply ill. And that the illness won’t just disappear overnight. I also know how to deal with it when negative thoughts come back. My doctor has confirmed in a letter that I do not meet the criteria for being admitted against my will to a secure psychiatric unit. And there are two words in there that really give me courage and make me feel confident about the future.
TOUR: What does it say?
VERMEULEN: ‘Patient stable’, it says. And that’s exactly how I feel.
About the person
Moran Vermeulen was born on 14 June 1997 in Ramsau, where he still lives today. He has been an Austrian citizen since his 18th birthday. His parents, Vincent and Dorien, were both cross-country skiers for the Dutch national team. Moran’s brother Mika, who is two years his junior, competes for Austria in the Cross-Country World Cup.
Between 2017 and 2024, Moran rode for the Austrian Continental teams Tirol Cycling Team, Team Felbermayr-Simplon Wels and Team Vorarlberg. Alongside his distance learning degree in sports science, he works as a performance analyst and coach at the LZ Ramsau training centre, as well as sporting director for Team Vorarlberg.
