Stéphan Buckland: The New Race... Stationary

From the adrenaline of the tracks to entrepreneurship, the Mauritian athletics icon opens up. A sensitive portrait of his rebuilding, the influence of his mother, and his new fast-paced life.

Stéphan Buckland exudes a dense, almost palpable energy. This intensity, inherited from the tracks, remains intact but has shifted. It’s as if he never truly stopped running; he merely changed the terrain.

Today, he states simply: "I live life at full speed." Not to break records anymore, but to build and create. A different kind of momentum. Another way to embody movement.

He has been one of those who are cheered on, someone a nation watches and supports. At the 2003 Indian Ocean Games, he became more than a sprinter: he was a focal point, a collective projection. "The entire Mauritian people were behind me," he recalls. In his voice, there’s not just the echo of victory, but a near-physical sensation of a suspended moment where each stride felt like it carried an entire island.

To understand this trajectory, one must look back. To childhood. To a home. To a sibling trio. And especially to a presence: his mother. Omnipresent, protective, demanding. "Our pillar," he still says today. A woman who oversaw everything, who encouraged relentlessly, who urged him to move forward, believe in himself, and never give up.

For him, these words were not just abstract commands. They became embedded in his body, in effort, in repetition. From a young age, sports became essential. Athletics became a language, a space to channel, structure, and understand. He ran with determination, sometimes with rage, but always with the discipline instilled in him from childhood. His technique sharpened. His mental resilience strengthened. He progressed, imposed himself, and wore Mauritius' colors on international stages (Olympic Games, World Championships, Commonwealth Games). Yet, despite the intensity of these moments, the strongest emotions always returned to his homeland.

Then, without warning, the trajectory shifted. Not due to an injury or a defeat, but due to absence: the death of his mother. The shock was profound and irreversible. Everything reconfigured: sports, meaning, motivation. "After her death, I no longer wanted to run," he confides. As if the flame extinguished with her. She was not just a supporter; she was the very essence of effort, the invisible destination of every victory.

This led to an internal collapse, followed by a slow transition. Yet, remaining stationary was impossible for him. "I’m not someone who stays put." So he moves forward. Differently. He explores, experiments, seeks himself. Pre-production, restoration, various projects. Multiple experiences, sometimes unstable, often demanding. He takes risks, falls, and rises again. Nothing is linear. Everything is movement.

In this moment of reconfiguration, there’s a woman. His wife, Joëlle. Met in a stadium, of course. A relationship that establishes, grows, and roots itself. Three children. A family. "My family is my greatest victory." In this role as a father, he finds a new stability. A quieter strength, but deeper.

Today, their lives revolve around their projects. Joëlle is involved in managing their activities, particularly in the restaurant business. He has shifted to other areas. Into material. Building painting. Interior decoration. A universe where he expresses himself differently, yet with the same intensity. He transforms spaces, composes with colors, textures, and volumes. Each project becomes a field of engagement. "I love what I do; each project is a new race."

He hasn’t left the race; he has merely changed the rules. And at the heart of this movement, a presence persists. His mother. Invisible, yet foundational. "Everything I am today, I owe to her." This isn’t a static memory; it’s an active fidelity. An inner line that runs through his choices, his projects, his way of moving forward.

Today, Stéphan Buckland is no longer just the athlete who thrilled crowds. He is a man who has journeyed, lost, and rebuilt. Someone who has understood that success is not measured solely by medals, but by balance, transmission, and happiness. "True success is being happy in what you do."

There was the roar of the stadiums, the cheers, the suspended moments. And now, there is a quieter life, yet just as rich. Less visible, but more anchored. Two trajectories that do not oppose but extend.

When asked if he still runs, he smiles. A nearly conspiratorial smile, like a wink to who he once was. "Yes... but differently." Because deep down, Stéphan Buckland has never stopped running. He has simply changed tracks.