Noble Chiropractic: A Journey to Personal Best (and Beyond)

               I’m pretty confident the first time I went to Dr. Steve Noble’s office his exact words were “You have room for improvement.” Which in the moment felt less-than-amazing, but in hindsight it was better for everyone involved. I first met Dr. Noble in the Fall of 2019, when I was fresh off a semi-disappointing mountain bike race season where nothing seemed to click; results were just not consistent, my headspace was all over the board, and I was struggling with the question of whether or not to continue dedicating my life to the sport. We planned to reconvene soon thereafter for an introductory power test and some work following.

               Eventually December rolled around, and it was time to start thinking about training for the 2020 season. Re-motivated and ready to put in the work again, it was to the room at Noble Chiropractic that I would become so familiar with in the coming months. That first day we did a test of Functional Threshold Power (FTP), which is a measurement of maximal sustained effort an athlete can produce. Paired with weight you get a power to weight ratio, which is basically the be-all-end-all number for cyclists. After a warmup and 20 minutes of full-on suffering the numbers were in, and not exactly what I had hoped for. All said and done I came out with an FTP of 275 and a power/weight of 4.36… A respectable amount, but as Dr. Noble had mentioned earlier: room for improvement.

               Maybe the most abrupt improvement I ever saw with Dr. Noble was directly following that initial power test. After sitting on the ground and recovering for a minute, Dr. Noble went to work with his magic. Focusing largely on my exhausted legs he slowly began correcting imbalances left and right, up and down, and really all over the place. Immediately things began to feel… different. It’s hard to describe, but there’s a sense of stability, control, and untapped power that was hidden somewhere in my fatigued body. So naturally, it was time for a test. A simple box was setup and we proceeded with some assessments of agility and stability: running back and forth while stepping up and over the box, and single leg dips. Probably the most incredible fact was that I could complete the tests with tired legs, but even more so was that I could keep improving. After every round Dr. Noble would correct something else, then my reaction time would once again improve, and my knee would be far more stable throughout the dips. Set after set we kept going, and even though I felt physically drained, there always seemed to be an ability to go again, do better, and keep improving. It was exciting to see such quick results, but also a bit frustrating that all this potential was locked away somewhere in me this whole time. I left that session feeling excited, motivated, and couldn’t wait to get back in the lab.

               For the next few weeks Dr. Noble and I worked together every week; slowly correcting imbalances, removing energy blocks, and improving my headspace. Immediately I noticed a shift throughout my everyday life, primarily during training applications. During this time of the year, I was transitioning through the offseason and into base miles in preparation for the coming race season. Whether it was better control and precision while trail running, a feeling of consistency throughout four plus-hour rides, or stability in the gym, there was an overall sense of improvement in training. I could feel my baseline slowly rising with each session, and therefore the upper limit of my abilities was also growing. These newfound physical abilities also had the secondary impact on my overall confidence… and this may have been the biggest change I noticed throughout this whole experience.

One primary example of increased confidence came through mountain biking: especially while descending. I have always been a bit timid during fast descents, especially after crashing hard and snapping all the tendons in my thumb a few years ago. As with a company car, there seemed to be a limiter buried deep within my mind causing me to reflexively slow down when the speeds became too high. This was incredibly frustrating, and I had begun to go down the rabbit hole of subconsciously believing I wasn’t a good descender, and therefore limiting myself throughout training and racing. An old saying in XC racing is “Races are won on the climbs and lost on the descents” and I was losing more races that I was winning… obviously something needed to change. I found this change while working with Dr. Noble.

Going downhill on a cross-country mountain bike is an exhilarating (and often terrifying) experience… and I wouldn’t be surprised if this raw feeling of speed and adrenaline is what brought many of us to the sport in the first place. Making split-second decisions about line choice, minute adjustments to body positioning, feeling the traction of tires play along the ground surface, and supplementing the bike’s suspension with your own body movement is an addicting feeling… the rush of dopamine and endorphins is enough to power anyone back up the hill for another lap. However, there’s a fine line between control and lack thereof while going fast, and it’s necessary to tiptoe around that line to push your own skills and abilities. Constantly pushing the envelope of your comfort zone is the only way to improve… and that’s hard when a lack of confidence in oneself limits this comfort zone and the willingness to explore its boundaries. I found myself doubting my own abilities, doubting the capability of my equipment, and overall doubting my development as an athlete. Slowly but surely that all changed after weeks of working with Dr. Noble. It sounds cliché, but after sessions working on agility, reaction speed, and muscle activation, time just seemed to slow down during technical mountain bike descents. It felt as though I had more time to prepare for whatever the track threw my way, and could deftly maneuver around, over, and through the countless roots, rocks, and turns throughout the trails. Initially it felt awkward, as if I was getting slower. Looking back at the data though it was clear I was going faster, in fact much faster than before. Soon I was able to understand my newfound abilities of slowing down time and began to use it to push the limits of my own technical skill. Descending changed from a tense, semi-frightening experience to something almost meditative… experiencing everything around and inside me with crystal-clear detail. I could see the trail and choose the best line, hear my heartbeat and synchronize it with my breathing; I could simply feel my body work in harmony with the motion of the bike. People talk about the feeling of flow, and if it’s anything… it’s this: a feeling of effortlessness and pinpoint accuracy. Bliss, really.

I came back in for a follow up FTP test seven weeks later. Instantly I could tell things were different. I had set a goal to maintain 300 watts throughout the test, but soon realized I was far more capable than I initially imagined. Throwing a bit of caution to the wind, I dialed up the intensity to 320 and sat at what would’ve been a completely unattainable power number only a few days prior. Coming to the end of the 20-minute test I realized there was still some matches left to burn, and with one minute left to go I ratcheted things up once more. After the numbers were done, it was a 19% increase from my original number… an incredible improvement. Normal month-long FTP increases at my age are typically in the 1% to maybe the 5% range, anything in the double digits is relatively unheard of. I was amazed, and since I took the first part of the test relatively easy and finished with gas left in the tank… well that number could only go up. And that was all the motivation I needed.

 

Just when the 2020 racing season was about to begin, the world ground to an abrupt halt. Events were cancelled, plans modified, and athletes around the globe struggled with what the uncertainty of the coming summer. As with everyone else, covid tore up my racing calendar and tossed the scraps into an unintelligible heap. With no racing to plan for, it was time to pivot towards a new trajectory. Rather than becoming depressed about the lack of racing, the year at home provided an opportunity to focus 110% on quality training and using the extended period of uninterrupted time to hone my skills and become as fast as possible… basically the perfect time to be working with Dr. Noble. Although there was a quick break in our sessions due to covid safety, we stayed regular in my visits to the lab, and the improvements to my training continued. Then I broke my shoulder.

A simple mistake, a split second loss of focus, and I was on the ground; landing on top of my outstretched arm. After a trip to the MRI it was revealed that I had fractured my humorous bone right at the shoulder socket… luckily no surgery was required though. I was initially told that recovery times would be anywhere from 10 to 16 weeks, which would’ve effectively meant the end of the summer season. Luckily I had an ace up my sleeve: consistent work with Dr. Noble meant I was back on the road bike in two days and I was mountain biking within one month; an absolutely incredible recovery time confirming just how vital my work with Dr. Noble has been. With the short setback put behind us, it was back to work.

The 2020 season wrapped up with a final power test, where I scored a whopping 25% improvement from my initial assessment. Within one year of working with Dr. Noble, I had improved my FTP 87 points and my power to weight ratio had gone from 4.36 to 5.75 watts/kilogram: an increase all but unheard of for a relatively trained athlete. All this with no racing motivation and a broken shoulder… I couldn’t make this stuff up.

 

               Needless to say, when the 2021 season began to take form I was incredibly excited to test out the new body, skills, and mindset I had acquired throughout the last year. Winter training had gone well, and I had been able to get a solid few months of base miles under my belt, and was feeling strong going into the first couple races of the year. My season started out with some local xc races leading up to two major pro xc events. The local events were a first test of the legs, which showed up with incredible form: I was able to walk away with a couple confidence-boosting wins. Going into the first few major races the nerves were expectedly present, and I had no idea what to expect tossing my hat in with the biggest names in US mountain bike racing. True to form, I started out tentatively and tried to test the waters. No doubt this was the wrong approach. A conservative start means fighting through the main bulk of the pack while those who made the lead group power on unencumbered by traffic. Even with my approach, I was able to walk away from the events sitting in the top third, a result that was undoubtedly impossible in years prior. The season ticked on and races came and went with a surprising regularity in results: top of the podium at the regional events and just behind the big dogs at the national races. A solid third-place result at High Cascades 100 capped off the main season, and proved to myself that the training I’d completed was paying off. Then I got the call to participate in BC Bike Race.

               BC Bike Race is a seven-day mountain bike stage race set in Penticton, Canada, and draws the who’s who of endurance athletes from around the country, and even the world. This event had been on my bucket list for years now, and I knew it was my opportunity to make a splash… so the rest of the summer was dedicated to being completely prepared for BCBR in October. Preparedness meant straight back to work with Dr. Noble, this time focusing on the mental aspect of my racing. Confidence would be key for the event, where throwing punches at the front of the pack was necessary for any kind of overall placement. Dr. Noble continued to work his magic, and we tuned my mental sharpness with a specific focus on prime performance at BCBR. With all the preparations completed, it was time to once and for all prove I belonged at the sharp end of the race. I had seven days to do so, seven chances to make my mark, and one overall result to show my worth. All or nothing, all in.

               The ever-present nervous excitement surrounded stage one of BCBR. The field was stacked with some heavy hitters and as always, I was feeling slightly out of place. I’m pretty sure my heart rate was skyrocketing just lining up next to some of the best in North America. Throughout the neutral roll out I was doing everything withing my power to maintain an outward sense of calm, as the group moved ever closer to the timing start mat. Once we hit the true start to the stage the fireworks went off; all the big names put down the power and made it clear who was in contention for the overall… and I found myself on their wheels. Digging deep to follow the leaders up the first climb my confidence and sense of belonging rose with each pedal rotation. Eventually the sharp attacks started and I backed off, knowing it would be a suicidal idea to burn too many matches this early in the week. I settled into my own rhythm and rode a solid remainder of the day solo. Due to some mechanicals with the riders ahead, I crossed the line in 5^th overall, a result I never could’ve imagined only two hours earlier… and this result was exactly what I needed: a confirmation that I belonged throwing punches at the front of the race. It was as if an entire season of yo-yoing off the leaders in big races, while simultaneously riding away from the group at local events was finally coming together. I felt strong, confident, and at long last the fleeting feeling of self-efficacy was growing… all due in no small part to the help from Dr. Noble.

               Throughout the remainder of the week, results were predictable, which suited me just fine. A lead group of about eight would establish itself early, and then the world cup riders would go off the front, leaving us five remaining to have our own separate race. I moved around slightly in the overall, dropping back to seventh, then up to sixth, and coming into the last day was 45 seconds behind the rider in fifth. We had become friends throughout the week, but at the end of the day we were both there for the same reason: performance. The fifth place spot at BCBR is a coveted result, a sign that you were gunning for the top positions, and have undoubted potential. (In all honesty, sixth place has the same meaning but going ‘top five’ just has a special ring to it.) With exhausted legs, we all rolled up to the final day knowing there was one more chance to empty the tank. Personally, I knew I had a few matches left to burn, but I knew they were in short supply and hoped I’d have enough to get me across the finish line. Once the gun went off, I turned the dial to eleven. Matt (the rider in fifth overall) stuck to my wheel like glue, and we traded attacks throughout the first hour of the stage. I was hurting, but could tell he was hurting just the same. My mind flashed back to sessions with Dr. Noble where we worked on mental fortitude, fostering the idea that this pain was only a figment of my imagination, and I could push through and surprise even myself. So that’s just what I did. I knew I was slightly stronger on the steep sections, so every time the trail pitched up I attacked, doing everything possible to break the elastic between myself and Matt. Again and again he matched my accelerations, sticking to my rear wheel as if there was a static rope holding us together. Finally I surged, and noticed he was all of a sudden a bike length behind me, an uncharacteristic sign of struggle. Immediately he was back, but at that point I had the taste of blood… it was go time. Throwing off the pain in my legs I doubled down and put every available watt I had into the pedals, surging up the hill as if the finish line was only a few meters away. Three minutes later I eased up slightly, knowing that was the hardest interval I had done in recent times… and Matt was nowhere to be seen. Even with the small burst of confidence, the race was far from over; Matt is an incredible descender and had made up almost 30 seconds on me during a previous stage. Additionally, the unforgiving terrain had already claimed many tires and punctures were a constant threat. I settled into a hard tempo and pushed my exhausted legs to the summit of the final climb; all I had to do now was ride the best descent of my life, avoid crashing, make up a minute, and I’d have landed myself in fifth place at BCBR… easier said than done while riding exhausted and on brand new trails. But I knew I had two things going for me: I trusted my training, and I wanted it… bad. So I turned the suspension fully open, took a deep breath, and charged towards the finish line.

               When the dust settled, I had done enough to push myself into fifth overall. Needless to say, I was elated; it was a perfect way to finish off a season filled with ups and downs, but BCBR provided the boost of confidence needed to charge headfirst into next season. Success breeds success and I know the sky’s the limit from here on, and I can’t thank Dr. Noble enough for his continued support. Dr. Noble has been an invaluable help with the overall physical work, making sure my speed, agility, and power were all optimized, as well as tuning my mental game, enhancing the muscle between my ears to perform at the highest level, no matter the circumstances. I guess the moral of the story is that we all have the hidden potential buried deep within us… and it just takes the careful and knowledgeable hand of a mentor to help unlock our inner best. For me, I always loved training, racing, and the life that comes with, but was never able to break through the ‘mid-pack’ barrier… always doubting my own abilities, second guessing my choices, and not realizing my full potential. With Dr. Noble’s help and unique practice, I was able to realize my physical capabilities of speed, power, and agility; as well as optimize my mental game. The mind-body connection is a beautiful thing, and aligning the two unlocks the untapped human performance that’s possible… and that’s exactly what Dr. Noble has helped me do. I can’t wait to continue working with him and am so excited for what the future has in store.

The Hardest Part About Putting Your Feet Up

              Sometimes the world decides it’s time for us to take a few rest days. Whether it’s divine intervention or a random visit from lady (bad)luck, there are times where forces beyond your control keep you from the regular day to day. When you’re like me and the regular day to day monotony is comforting and just so happens to include your passion… well, it gets really hard to adjust to the new normal, even if it is the correct (and often only) thing to do.

               Basically, I got some sort of Staph Infection and had to take a few days of required rest off the bike and away from regular training.  For someone as obsessed with numbers and consistency as I am, missing a few scheduled training days is akin to shooting myself in the foot, which honestly would’ve produced a similar result to the infection. Quick backstory for context… for a long while I’ve had two bone spurs hanging out on the top of my feet, a nice result of having incredibly flat feet and spending too much time in tight shoes. Last week my left foot randomly swelled up around the spur, turned bright red, and decided it was going to cause excruciating pain. Thinking that I was paying the price for not getting my sad feet looked at by a professional, my initial assessment of the pain was that I had a stress fracture or something… I guess my midday walk to the coffee shop was decently quick for someone who doesn’t like walking, but I didn’t jump off any stairs or anything. Turns out I’m still a dumbass and stress fractures don’t swell and turn red; that’s called an infection. Long story short I have a staph infection which decided to cause my foot to go full balloon mode and provide me with a couple horrible nights (I’ll spare you details from the midnight bathroom episodes).

               Thankfully I’ve got an ace in my pocket, and Dr. Steve Noble was once again able to come to my rescue. Providing some antibacterial medicine, energy work, and some needed words of comfort, Dr. Noble got me back on my feet (ha) in no time and saved the day… yet again. Being on the mends, however, does not mean it’s a good idea to jump directly back into training, and there was no way I was fitting my still-swollen elephant foot back inside a dainty little cycling shoe. So… it was couch time for Payson. If you’ve ever spent time with me, you probably know how good I am at resting. Here’s a hint: I’m terrible. Recently I’ve gotten better, but sometimes even taking a rest day sometimes feels like a step backwards. When I’m required to take a full four days off, well, that feels like I’m plunging into an un-recoverable hole.

               At this point, you may say that I’m being unreasonable, and that taking a few days completely off to let your body recover from a decently gnarly virus is the smart thing to do, and resting is most likely actually helping you get faster. And yes, you’d be right. But I’ve never been one for reason, and when you put my slightly obsessive character trait on top you’ve got a recipe for disaster. So yes, it’s absolutely the smart option to take a few days off, and I’m going to do it… but let me tell you… goddamn it's hard. For two main reasons:

               Reason one. When your life is dedicated to training and racing, two specific mantras come to define your life: FTFP and HTFU. FTFP stands for Follow The Fucking Plan, which is pretty straightforward in its general meaning. When you’re looking ahead at a full season of racing, it’s important to look at the big picture, and understand that the only way to get faster is to trust your coach, your plan, and yourself. It’s hard to improve in one day, but stick with it and soon enough that one day turns into two, then a week, then a month, then three months, and all of a sudden you’re flying. It’s not one workout that’ll make you quicker, but rather the collection and combination of months of dedicated workouts that all add up to real performance gains. So, when something happens and suddenly you have to stray from the regimented plan of training and recovering, everything gets thrown out of whack and any OCD athlete such as myself begins to panic. On a similar note, HTFU stands for Harden The Fuck Up, which is also decently self-explanatory. Sometimes training sucks… racing at a professional level is a job after all, and nobody has only perfect days at their job. There are days where the weather is doing everything in its power to dissuade you from going outside, or sometimes you have to wake up at an ungodly hour to get in the required training hours. Times like these it’s necessary to HTFU and just buckle down and get the work done. I’m fully aware that having a dangerous virus coursing through my body is definitely not a time when Hardening Up is a solid choice, but when putting your head down and pushing forward been a defining part of your life for basically every scenario… it becomes hard to turn that switch off. As dedicated athletes or simply motivated individuals, it’s easy to think that we can mentally will our way through anything, and that taking a step back to actually take care of ourself is a sign of weakness. Which when you think about it… is the absolute worst thing to do, but for some reason I seem to be hardwired for self-destruction in the name of progression.

               Reason two. There’s a sinister downside to defining yourself as an ‘athlete.’ When you make training and athletics defining qualities of your character, it’s shattering when you get sidelined from training and athletics. Again, I know this sounds crazy, and it is… but it’s worth talking about and bringing up, because I think it affects more people than just myself. Right or wrong, I classify myself as an athlete to the core. I love training, pushing my limits, and the continuous improvement which accompanies dedication. Obviously, this has benefits and it’s important to have a healthy self-image of who you are and what you want to be. But we’re multifaceted beings, with many different aspects to life and have many different roles. It becomes insidiously dangerous when a single self-image begins to dominate all others, as this sole identity begins to take hold of all your self-concept. If this one defining aspect of your life is suddenly removed, put on hold, or even just altered… it can have outsized and overwhelming effects. It was explained perfectly by Simon Marshall in “The Brave Athlete.” The concept of a self-schema includes the thoughts and beliefs that people have about themselves as a something-or-other (in this case, as an athlete). This self-schema then builds into your personal identity, which in turn creates your overall self-concept. There are many different identities we have throughout our lives (athlete, student, partner, employee, etc…) and each of these influence others. We also give individual identities more worth than others, which in turn gives them a more outsized role on our overall self-concept. For example, I believe that my athletic identity is more important than my identity as an employee (don’t tell my manager), so how I perform in the athletic sphere has more of an effect on my overall self-concept.

This is all fine and healthy, as we all have different ideas and thoughts about the hierarchy of things throughout our lives. Things become dicey when one specific identity begins to become the sole influencer of our general self-concept. Therefore, if I believe that I’m defined by my athletic identity, I assume that to be a successful person in all aspects of life I need to be performing well (or even just performing) as an athlete. It’s irrational, yes, but my brain has proved it’s anything but rational at times. So even if life is otherwise great, poor performance or lack thereof in the one thing that I put too much priority on can wreak havoc in ALL unrelated aspects of my life. Simply put; when I believe I’m defined as an athlete and then can’t perform as an athlete… it has an outsized and negative effect on the other (usually unrelated) aspects of my overall life. And there’s the problem I’ve been wrestling with the past few days: I understand that allowing my athletic self-identity to encompass too large an influence on my overall self-concept is unhealthy and potentially self-destructive, but I simultaneously have lofty goals for myself… and achieving these goals require a level of commitment that is borderline unhealthy. So, is it worth the risk?

For me, and at this stage of my life… I believe it is. Ten years down the road, maybe not. But hell, I don’t even know what I’m having for breakfast tomorrow, so trying to plan even a year in advance often seems to be an exercise in futility. Maybe I’m kicking the ball down the road for future Payson to deal with, but I know that right now I’m dedicated to exploring how far I can travel down this path. It seems like the proverbial warning of eggs all in one basket, but I’ve never been one to heed warning signs too well… which brings us full circle to how I found myself in this situation in the first place. So, you can probably take my words as someone having an illogical argument with themselves and shake your head at my unwillingness to actually learn from my mistakes. Some things never change.

The Simple Pleasures (Type Two… ) of Riding in Winter

           

            Riding bicycles of all kinds is an incredible experience, there’s no doubting that fact. Especially in the summer, when daylight takes up the majority of our 24 hours, going outside in shorts is the norm, and flip flops are basically mandatory. It’s easy to get out for a ride in warm weather with the sun cheerfully shining down. The winter months here in the PNW are a different story. We’re fortunate enough to have the ability to ‘ride all year,’ but riding through the daylight-starved months is definitely not for the faint of heart.  It’s far harder to get motivated to face the driving rain and plastering mud. Only those dedicated or crazy enough willingly seek out frozen fingers, numb toes, the reality of cleaning equipment daily and far too many loads of laundry.

               But underneath the misery there’s a sense of accomplishment that comes with riding year-round. Having the commitment to continue practicing a sport through thick and thin, rain or shine, mud or dry, brings about a sense of the sport’s intricacies akin to no other. Learning how to corner through a puddle, discovering the best ways to keep proper circulation through hands and toes, or experiencing the dull taste of iron after a hard effort provides a whole new appreciation for riding a bicycle.

               I’m not sitting here saying everyone needs to willingly suffer to enjoy riding; not at all. To be completely honest, I can’t really recommend that everyone goes out and spends four hours in 35 degree rain, only to come home and sit on the floor in a fetal position fighting off the agony of reperfusion… it’s quite unenjoyable. If the goal is to get more people on bikes, then let’s make riding a pleasant experience full of sunshine and smiles. And if that what the sport means to you… that’s perfect. Hell, if I had the opportunity to never ride in leg warmers again I’d happily jump on board.

               All I’m saying is that there’s a feeling of accomplishment when you get home with a splatter-painted face of mud, when there’s a trail of wet clothes leading towards the shower, and when a cup of anything warm is the most incredible thing in the world. A smile is a smile, no matter whose face it occupies or whether or not said face is too frozen to actually form a smile… and there’s not many better ways to bring smiles to faces than riding a bicy
cle. Plus, when the sun finally breaks through the clouds and the elusive summer begins to creep over the horizon, when you can arrive home at 7:30 with ample daylight to spare… those hours spent riding in shorts and sun lenses are pure paradise.

A Few Thoughts on Social Media

               A few days ago, Geoff Kabush put out an Instagram post talking about how the general course of sponsorships has changed in the past few years. In a nutshell, there’s been a shifting of the athlete/influencer scale towards having a strong following on social media and away from the simplicity of results. Yes, results do and (hopefully) always will matter, but Geoff is arguing the point that there should be a pathway into professional cycling without having to be an influencer across social media, one in which race results and sheer competition speak as loudly as how many likes one received on Instagram. He goes on to mention how the constant demands and struggles of social media can create a barrier to get into the sport, push athletes closer towards burnout, and ultimately steer people away from the competitive aspect of the sport.

               As a generally introverted person who admittedly shies away from cycling’s social media obsession, the fact that a seasoned veteran in the sport spoke up about this issue struck a chord with me. As a preface, I’ll admit that having a large following, active social media account, and overall extroverted personality is obviously a benefit to sponsors, who are often just looking to use athletes as billboards to promote their products. I can see how between two otherwise equally talented riders, it makes perfect sense to go with the one who is reaching more people… that’s marketing 101. On the other hand, coming from a position where I don’t want to spend all of my excess energy creating social content I would love to argue the point of the rider who focuses solely on being a professional athlete: someone who makes sacrifices and does everything necessary to ensure their body and mind are the fastest and most efficient machines possible.

 I want to be partnered with a company that recognizes this work ethic and is happy representing me because of what I personally represent. I don’t want to feel as though I need to be a marketing agent for a company as well as an athlete. Maybe that’s why I’ve been a privateer as long as I have, going forward on a bike I bought with my own money, showing no sponsors on my jersey, and funding the season from my own wallet. Maybe it’s idealistic, but is it possible that a company could see the potential benefit from sponsoring the no-name kid who shows up, gets a solid result, and immediately goes back to the grindstone to be that much better tomorrow? Maybe… that’s my brand, and I need to represent that over social media… but would (and should) that be attractive to a company?  I’m truthfully asking these questions because I don’t know the answer, and would love to start a conversation about where professional aspect of this sport is going.

               Personally, I am on Instagram, albeit with a measly following of a couple hundred people. I do enjoy putting content out into the void, usually talking about a certain race event, travel experience, or general quip about life. It’s fun keeping up with friends, seeing what’s going on throughout the world, and going down the rabbit hole of dumb cat videos. To me, social media is an addition to my career as a professional cyclist; not a requirement. What’s more, this mindset has undoubtedly cost me sponsorships. Is it fair? No. Is life fair? No. Is one argument to my bellyaching to simply “suck it up” as part of the job? Definitely. But… what’s to say I shouldn’t be rewarded and noticed by potential sponsors for solely focusing on putting in the work to ensure my physical and mental abilities are as sharp as possible? Everyone has a limited amount of energy at their disposal, and everything we do saps that energy store. Even if we’re having a great time and completely enjoying the activity, there’s a little battery icon dwindling down within us. Am I any less of a professional for devoting more energy towards training, and less towards creating content for the social media void?

               Again, I understand I’m coming at this argument from a biased point of view. But I believe it is an important point of view. Introverted people are less likely to be as outspoken in everyday life as on social media, so in general their arguments are less likely to be heard. Also, I understand that there is a large population who genuinely enjoy creating content, as much as I enjoy training; so of course there is a place and a need for people to express creativity into the world… all I’m saying is that I hope there’s still a path into the ranks of “professional” (whatever the hell that actually means) for someone such as myself: the people who are more focused on training, racing, and improvement in real life rather than throughout social media. There’s also the possibility that marketing yourself and creating a personal brand is the only way to attract the attention of sponsors. I hope that’s not the case but if so… so it goes.

               We could go deep into the weeds on more of my thoughts regarding sponsorships, and how getting the short end of the stick because of my general life situation has almost caused me to step away from professional cycling multiple times, but that’s a thorny topic for another day. I truly hope there is a place in professional cycling that allows for the recognition of riders who dedicate themselves to numbers, results, and the daily grind, rather than only providing opportunities to those who are skilled in and dedicated to more creative pathways. This sport is amazing in its ability to attract people from all walks of life, and that is one of the reasons I fell in love with cycling. In this new age of athlete/influencer, is there a way we can ensure multiple pathways exist to whatever people define as success throughout the competitive aspect of the sport? It is enough to be only an athlete, or only an influencer? And should companies recognize that both ends of the spectrum require incredible amounts of work, and provide opportunities to dedicated people, no matter where their energy is directed? I don’t know the answers to these questions, and want to learn more about… well… everything regarding the future and where the sport is heading.

               Who knows if this will actually get read after I’m done screaming into the void, but I think it’s worth a thought or two. To sum, yes, I agree a certain amount of social media presence is required for an athlete to be a useful representative and good ambassador for sponsor companies, but I also believe that it shouldn’t be an unspoken prerequisite to racing at the elite level. I hope companies are willing to look at the daily work an athlete is dedicating to their craft and weigh this accordingly to what their social media output is.  With that said please follow me @paysonpartridge because this is still the world we’re living in and I do need followers to be attractive…