Julien Guiborel’s Humble and Silent Legacy

A few months ago, 3bikes told the story of a man, Jean-François Guiborel, known as Jeff, “La Guibole,” a father, a champion, a vibrant voice in the world of cycling. Today, we invite you to follow another wheel, more discreet, more internal, that of his son Julien. A less spectacular journey, but one of unsuspected richness. A path where silence speaks, where effort becomes humility, and where passion becomes transmission. Because sometimes, it is in the shadows that the most lasting light is forged.

By Jeff Tatard – Consultant for 3bikes – photos: French national team @Patrick Pichon / DR

Heritage & Childhood: Born to Pedal?

Julien Guiborel was born with a bike in his cradle, or almost. “It seems I rode before I could walk,” he confides with a smile. His very first memory is a BMX, on which he would “jump bumps” near his home in Suresnes, sometimes falling, but learning to get back up, to go further, to push himself. An inaugural gesture that perfectly summarizes his trajectory: instinctive, committed, but always rooted in a form of freedom.

Even before growing up, Julien was already moving forward. Heritage doesn’t wait…

In the Guiborel family, cycling is a religion. His father, Jean-François, former racer, coach, a colorful figure in Parisian cycling, makes no secret of his passion – nor of the one he passed on. “Vaccinated with a bike spoke,” says Julien, echoing a well-known phrase in the cycling world. Sunday mornings had their liturgy: the club ride, the relays in the cold, and then a good family meal.

Behind every champion, a tribe. And love as the first finish line.

But his father, precisely, made sure not to make his son an obligated heir. He enrolled him in a cycling school, but also advised him to take a break, to look elsewhere. Julien then tried everything: gymnastics, basketball, soccer, tennis… A vital need to exert himself – sometimes to the great dismay of the neighbors in the small family apartment! – but also an early learning of coordination, rigor, and listening to his body.

He doesn’t remember growing up “in his father’s shadow.” “I wanted to forge my own path.” And he did. With two turning points: his move to CM Aubervilliers, as a junior, under the guidance of Hervé Boussard, then his U23 years, marked by a major operation but also a revelation: that of his potential. “I told myself I could hope to turn pro.”

One day, one race, one attack. Wearing the Dijon jersey, Julien didn’t wait for the opportunity: he created it. A single attack, a single perfect moment – and an entire career summarized in lucidity, courage, and panache.

Father & Son: Two Temperaments, Two Worlds

Seeing them together, everything seems to oppose them. Jean-François is voluble, active on social media, capable of pulling out an anecdote, a joke, or a memory from thin air. Julien, on the other hand, is discreet, reserved. Not shy, no – simply composed. Reserved. Observant.

“It’s a choice and a temperament,” he explains. He prefers listening to exposure. He’s on social media, but to “monitor,” not to tell his life story. And when he’s with family, he disconnects. “It’s my Garden of Eden.” His father, meanwhile, continues to post childhood photos, club outings, jerseys too big for an already diligent kid. “I think it’s a form of nostalgia. Me, I’m more focused on the future.”

Son & father: One moves in silence, the other in bursts. But on the track, it’s the same passion that pulses, the same breath that unites them. Father and son, different but linked by the cadence of the heart.

Disagreements were not lacking. Especially on how to race. Julien liked to attack, shake up the pelotons, go all out. “My father, a shrewd tactician, didn’t like that much.” There were some arguments, of course. And disappointment, too, when Julien decided to stop competing at 25. “But he accepted it. And he always passed on solid values to me: perseverance, health, ethics.”

There were rituals. Training sessions at Longchamp, rides with CSM Puteaux, evening stretches – which his father did assiduously, and which he struggles to imitate today. “He’s more flexible than me!” There were phrases, cycling vocabulary, a bit of Jacques Audiard in the expressions, and a bit of filial respect in the approach. “I read his training plans. That helped me build myself, as a racer, but also as a coach.”

Even today, they still exchange a little. But from a distance. One lives in Paris, the other in Savoie. “When we call each other, we mostly talk about our families.” Two worlds, two speeds, but the same passion, deeply rooted.

The Racer: What Remains of the Legs

When Julien reflects on his racing career, there’s no gushing nostalgia, no frustration either. A form of pride, yes. “I touched professionalism, I traveled, I met wonderful people. And above all, I understood the demands of this profession.”

Victory and even more so a French champion’s jersey only make sense when it comes home.

He describes himself as “a bit of all three“: a hard worker, cerebral, instinctive. He didn’t have the natural talent of some, but he compensated with analysis, rigor, consistency. And a certain intuition for the right moment. “I didn’t have my father’s sprinting qualities, so I raced offensively, I liked cobbles, breakaways.”

The most vivid memory? His victory at the GP des Marbriers in 2005. A controlled race, a single attack, at the right moment. “At the flamme rouge. I went, I finished alone. I exploded with joy.” He won a marble table. It’s still in the garden.

The Trainer: Transmitting, Bringing Out Talent

After the saddle, there was the whiteboard. Or rather, the training log, the camps, the meetings. Julien became a coach, then a technical manager. “I was inspired by the people who mentored me. I wanted to pass it on in turn.”

For him, training is a matter of method, intuition… and patience. He likes to set a framework, observe, adjust. And above all, let the athlete build, make mistakes, learn. “I’m more of a hands-off mentor. I ask questions, I let them formulate.”

Julien teaches what he is: patient, precise, passionate.

What does he first spot in a young person? “Attitude. The ability to be a driving force in a group.” Then comes the mental aspect, the deep motivation. He believes in everyone, even those who remain in the shadows for a long time. “Some young women I coached were substitutes for a long time… Today, they are pros. Because they believed in themselves.”

He defends French training. Despite the lack of resources, it is rich, comprehensive, and deeply rooted. “But we should develop sports culture in schools. We miss out on a lot of talent.”

And atypical paths? “They still exist, but it’s harder. Professionalism comes early, especially in technical disciplines. But there are bridges. Nothing is set in stone.”

He doesn’t speak loudly, but every word traces a trajectory. Julien transmits the art of the time trial as one transmits a key – discreetly, precisely. That day, he plants a seed… that Juliette Labous will make bloom in blue, white, and red.

The Present & Tomorrow: Staying in the Wheel

Today, Julien lives between Chambéry and Aix-les-Bains. Lake, mountains, fresh air. A dream setting, far from the Parisian hustle and bustle. He takes his boys to school… by bike. “It’s the best motivation.”

His refuge, his wife and children, or the silence of a fulfilled man. The summit is not always where you think it is.

Professionally, he coaches young people within the Auvergne Rhône-Alpes committee. Mountain camps, time trials, races in Belgium to learn to ride in a tight peloton. “We accompany them step by step. And I try to pass on the keys to them… so that they succeed in cycling or elsewhere.”

Among his greatest successes? Finding some former athletes who have become colleagues. “I ‘tortured’ them back then, and now we work together. It’s great.”

And in ten years? “Maybe a goat farmer in the Bauges!” Then he resumes, more seriously: “I will continue to transmit, in one way or another.”

When asked if he agrees to “come out of his shell a bit” for this portrait, he smiles. “I’m going to be 45. I chose a simple life, serving a passion.” He recounts his childhood memories in Morzine, his first mountain passes, his first crashes. And that childhood dream: to live at the foot of the mountains. “That dream, today, I’m living it.”

He dreamed of mountains, he found his valley. He no longer seeks to go fast, just to be there. In the silence of the peaks, with his wife and sons, Julien walks in peace. The childhood dream has become a landscape. And victory, a simple presence.

Julien Guiborel, the Invisible Rider

Julien Guiborel is not a man of the spotlight. He is one of those who build foundations, trajectories, hopes. He doesn’t seek glory, much less buzz. He prefers to train rather than shine, to accompany rather than direct, to listen rather than speak.

He didn’t “take his father’s wheel.” He rode alongside him. On another line. At his own pace. Sometimes in front, sometimes behind, but always true to himself.

In a world where you have to be visible to exist, Julien reminds us that you can inspire… in silence. And that sometimes, the greatest victory is to still be there, faithful to cycling, and to the values it taught you.

=> All our Portrait articles