On a weekday evening in late June, around six o’clock, the shadows are just starting to stretch across the infield and the banked concrete oval is already busy. A handful of cyclists in lycra are doing timed laps. A teenager on a fixed-gear is learning to hold the line through the turns. Someone’s coach is shouting splits from the infield grass. The Major Taylor Velodrome doesn’t announce itself — it just runs.
The track sits inside Riverside Park on the northwest side, not far from the White River and the old municipal golf course. It opened in 1982, named after Marshall “Major” Taylor, the Black cycling champion from Indianapolis who won the world sprint title in 1899. That history matters here. The plaques and the name aren’t decorative — they connect the place to something real about this city’s past.
The oval itself is 333 meters of banked concrete, with turns steep enough that you feel the pull the first time you ride them. That bank — around 28 degrees at the steepest — is what separates velodrome cycling from anything you’d do on a road or trail. The track demands a fixed gear with no brakes, which means first-timers have to relearn basic instincts about slowing down. The velodrome runs beginner clinics through the season, typically on weekend mornings, and the instruction is patient and practical. Expect to spend the first session just getting comfortable with the track bike and the geometry of the oval. Rental bikes are available for clinics.
The season runs roughly May through September, and Wednesday evening races are the main event for competitive riders. These are open to the public to watch, and watching is genuinely worth the trip on its own. Sprint events and points races move fast enough to make road cycling look leisurely by comparison. The crowd is small and knowledgeable — you’ll hear people talking about gear ratios and cadence the way some people talk about batting averages. Nobody’s performing for tourists.
Day-use admission to ride the track during open sessions runs around five to ten dollars, depending on the session type. Clinic fees are modest, usually in the fifteen to twenty-five dollar range. There’s a small clubhouse with basic facilities, and the park around it gives you somewhere to cool down and decompress.
What makes the velodrome worth visiting even if you never clip in: it’s a living piece of Indianapolis athletic infrastructure that most people in the city don’t know exists. The sport it hosts is old, precise, and genuinely demanding. Major Taylor himself trained on tracks like this one — shorter ovals than today’s standard but with the same banked logic — and went on to beat the best riders in the world while facing racial hostility that would have broken almost anyone. The track named for him hosts real competition, real training, real community, on a Tuesday in June when most of the city isn’t paying attention.
If you want to ride, check the Velodrome’s schedule through the Indy Cycloplex website before heading out — open sessions vary week to week and some evenings are reserved for team training or events. Go on a Wednesday if you can. Watching a sprint final under those long summer shadows, with the sound of the tires humming on concrete, is one of the more unexpected pleasures Indianapolis has to offer.
