Sepp Kuss appears at the door wearing a pair of fuzzy slippers and a warm grin. “Did you find the place OK?” he asks, leading me inside. “How was your drive down?”

　　The smell of freshly brewed coffee fills the hallway as we walk past paintings of wooded mountains and snowy landscapes. It’s as if we’ve entered a ski chalet in this tucked-away neighborhood of Durango, Colorado, and not the home of Kuss’s parents, Sabina and Dolph. But they’re here, too, lounging in comfy chairs, waiting to watch their son be interviewed about an incredible feat of athleticism and willpower. His historic victory at the 2023 Vuelta a España last September, when Sepp became just the fourth U.S. rider to officially win one of cycling’s three-week grand tours, is what we’re set to discuss. I’ve driven six hours from Denver to Durango to talk about the Vuelta, and also to attend a festival and parade in Sepp’s honor. But right now the Kuss family just want to know if I’d like a cup of joe and maybe some breakfast.

　　“I tell you, we were not even low-level fans of cycling before all of this,” Dolph says. “We’ve had to learn everything.”

　　Were it not for his son’s big victory, I would gladly spend half my time interviewing Dolph. At 93, he’s a living connection to the primordial days of the American ski industry, and he’s partly responsible for transforming Durango into a mecca for outdoor sports. The list of his skiing accomplishments could fill its own story, so here are the CliffsNotes. He built nordic centers across Colorado and helped develop the local ski area, Purgatory Resort, in the mid-1960s. He coached the U.S. Nordic team at the 1964 and 1972 Olympics and taught multiple generations of skiers to love the sport.

　　But even Dolph, with his vast experience coaching hundreds of athletes, seems dumbfounded by his son’s achievement. “I used to think some of my cross-country racers were workhorses, but he puts them all to shame,” Dolph says. “I admire Sepp so much for his physical achievements, which I think are historic and, to be honest, mind-boggling.”

　　They are. In 2023, Sepp completed all three grand tours: the Giro d’Italia, the Tour de France, and the Vuelta—that’s 6,225 grueling miles of bike racing. Few cyclists ever tackle all three events in a season, and those who do are usually too exhausted to win anything. Sepp served as the key helper, or domestique, for Jumbo-Visma teammate Primoz Roglic when Roglic won the 2023 Giro in May. Then, in July, he shepherded another teammate, Jonas Vingegaard, to a second straight Tour de France win. And, finally, Sepp won the Vuelta in September.

　　“And he looked like he was having a lot of fun the whole time,” Sabina, 72, says. “Sepp wouldn’t do something like that if he wasn’t having fun.”

　　The conversation flows as Sabina and Dolph share memories. “I was still breastfeeding him when we’d go skiing,” Sabina says. “He was the easiest kid in the world to raise.” Six-year-old Sepp strummed a guitar and performed Elvis tunes. In middle school, he started his own small business importing bike parts and selling them on eBay.

　　Dolph smiles and Sabina looks moved. Soon the midmorning sun beams through the windows, and it’s time to get down to the serious stuff, to address the Vuelta and a bizarre drama. A bitter inter-squad rivalry at Jumbo-Visma nearly tore the team apart in the final few stages. Sepp found himself in a wholly unprecedented situation: a domestique leading the race and having to fend off his two team leaders, Roglic and Vingegaard. Media intrigue ratcheted up the pressure for one of the three to back down. Sepp refused. He fought on and chased after his teammates on the steepest mountains, and in doing so won the affection of cycling fans across the world.

　　“I still feel confident that if we went all-in, head-to-head, the three of us together, I would still win the Vuelta,” Sepp says. Was he the strongest rider? “Given all the components of the race, yes,” he answers.

　　There are different types of strength, of course, and perhaps Sepp did not have the most powerful legs. But he had the mental fortitude and interpersonal skills to navigate what was essentially a hostile workplace. He could have rolled over—most riders would have—but something compelled him to stand his ground against his higher-profile teammates. Where did this courage come from? I’m willing to bet that the answer can be found somewhere here in Durango.