ASD and the Impact on Athletic Performance

Words Chris Mehlman - Photography Jace Stout

Professional cycling is not your typical elite sport, and Chris Mehlman is a great illustration of this reality. He is a 24-year-old professional gravel and marathon MTB racer for Pivot Cycles from Colorado in the United States who also balances a job in marketing. Having a more typical life schedule than most pro riders with his “normal” career, as well as being neurodivergent, has helped him develop his voice in the space as someone who is approachable and relatable to everyday riders and racers. His goal is to inspire others to experience the mental and physical benefits that cycling can unlock and the distinct memories that adventures on two wheels can bring. He’s a strong believer that cycling compliments the challenges and stresses of everyday life and provides a great outlet for neurodivergent brains to flourish.

He has finished in the top five twice at UNBOUND XL gravel and Breck Epic, represented the US three times at the UCI Marathon MTB World Championships, finished 2nd at Gravel Worlds Long Voyage (the original one in Nebraska), and raced in throughout the world. The longer the race, the better. Really, though, his favorite thing about riding is going on long adventure rides with no exact plan, or what one friend calls “Mehlman Meanders.”

Follow him on Instagram at cmehlman34, Strava, and on Substack.

Professional cycling is not your typical elite sport, and Chris Mehlman is a great illustration of this reality. He is a 24-year-old professional gravel and marathon MTB racer for Pivot Cycles from Colorado in the United States who also balances a job in marketing. Having a more typical life schedule than most pro riders with his “normal” career, as well as being neurodivergent, has helped him develop his voice in the space as someone who is approachable and relatable to everyday riders and racers. His goal is to inspire others to experience the mental and physical benefits that cycling can unlock and the distinct memories that adventures on two wheels can bring. He’s a strong believer that cycling compliments the challenges and stresses of everyday life and provides a great outlet for neurodivergent brains to flourish.

He has finished in the top five twice at UNBOUND XL gravel and Breck Epic, represented the US three times at the UCI Marathon MTB World Championships, finished 2nd at Gravel Worlds Long Voyage (the original one in Nebraska), and raced in throughout the world. The longer the race, the better. Really, though, his favorite thing about riding is going on long adventure rides with no exact plan, or what one friend calls “Mehlman Meanders.”

Follow him on Instagram at cmehlman34, Strava, and on Substack.

I have ASD 1 (autism spectrum disorder). I can’t say I’m surprised, but I was finally diagnosed with it recently.

Let’s step back a bit first.

It was the middle of my off-season, and I was scrolling Instagram over lunch when I noticed a post from Maddy Nut with a link to a piece she wrote for Neurodiverse Sport titled “Textured Forks.” The first line of the piece immediately resonated with me.

“Growing up without a formal diagnosis for autism, I very much learnt how to manage certain social situations and although on the outside I may appear to be thriving in these settings and an extrovert, inside my brain is a very different reality.”

That was exactly me. I can appear extroverted at times but struggle with maintaining this face. Generally, I find comfort in what psychologists call “parallel play.” This is why cycling is so appealing to me. My social interactions are spent next to another person rather than face to face. A piece I wrote for the Colorado College Outdoor Journal a few years ago explores this.

When I was younger, I was always someone who others might have labeled “more mature,” and while that seems like it would be a compliment, it largely meant I just didn’t enjoy the same sort of humor and activities as most kids my age. If there was a dance in middle school (which, admittedly, is the most stereotyped awkward situation for every person), I was more comfortable setting up the audio system and lighting than actually being at the dance.

I’ve always dreaded large social gatherings or meetings with new people. The challenge with the way my brain works is I’m quite good at masking how much I hate these. I can “fake it,” but at quite a cost to my energy. Going to a social event is usually more draining than training. Some people get energized by these settings. I most definitely do not. This is why I never went to college parties.

Struggling with social interaction isn’t entirely abnormal, but when you combine this with my love of routine, inflexibility, and singular passion/focus, things start to come together. When I’m told I come across “snarky,” or my face looks angry when I’m feeling totally fine, or when I don’t get a joke immediately, there’s a lot behind that.

What is ASD 1?

ASD 1 is one level of Autism Spectrum Disorder that a lot of people might still call Asperger’s. It is characterized by, according to my diagnosis, the following. (I edited out the medical terms for clarity and included how I was assessed.)

• Differences in social communication and social interaction across multiple contexts, including:

  • Social-emotional reciprocity: Back-and-forth conversation; Sharing of affect, interests, or emotions; Initiation or response to overtures – clearly evident

  • Reading and using nonverbal communication: Integrating verbal and nonverbal communication; Social use of eye gaze; Gesture Use; Facial Expression – clearly evident

  • Understanding, developing and maintaining social relationships: Adjusting behavior to suit context or audience; Age appropriate relationships; Interest in others – clearly evident

• Restricted, repetitive patterns of behavior, interests, or activities as manifested by at least two of the following, currently or by history

  • Stereotyped or repetitive behavior: Motor movements; repetition; echolalia; verbal behaviors - maybe

  • Adherence to routines or resistance to change: Change; transitioning; flexibility; transitions; routine – clearly evident

  • Restricted, fixated interests that are unexpected in range, intensity or focus - clearly evident

  • Sensory responses: Under/over-sensitive to pain or temperature, specific stimuli; seeking out stimuli; visual inspection - clearly evident

• Age of Onset Date

  • Early signs of ASD in childhood - clearly evident

• Functional Impact – clearly evident

• Apparent impact of masking and camouflaging? (1-10 scale; 10 is high) – 7

• 
  

Some of these might seem surprising, but that’s where the last one comes in and why ASD 1 is so complex to live with. On the one hand, I’m what you would call “high functioning.” ASD 2 and 3 include much more severe impacts on living, including being completely nonverbal. ASD 1 does not.

With ASD 1, however, the crux is that I’m very good at masking or camouflaging, so most people think you’re generally normal (well, maybe besides riding my bike for stupidly long amounts of time). This, in a way, is great. I can function as normal, right? The problem with masking, as mentioned previously, is that it takes a lot of energy and causes a lot of stress and anxiety. I cannot tell you the number of times I’ve subconsciously or consciously had to plan how to approach social situations over and over in my head and left social events completely spent. Sometimes, masking does not work. This can manifest itself in me in my eye movement (eye contact has never been a strength) and awkwardness when attempting to enter a conversation.

When it comes to routine, cycling is great for that, but elite cycling is not. I am traveling constantly, packing and unpacking my bike, getting used to new riding areas, and preparing for races. I always say that the logistics around races are by far the hardest part and the most draining. ASD goes a long way to explaining why something that is never the “fun” part of racing is extra difficult for me. For example, if I’m driving to a race and then have to grocery shop, unpack, get my race number, ride, and finish up some work, my first reaction is panic and stress. I will run over in my head many times how I will approach this. What order will I do it in? When I get to the grocery store, how will I approach the shopping to make it the most efficient? Will I unpack everything before my ride? Will I get back too late from my ride and be outside my normal “routine” time?

At races, hectic gravel race starts have never been my favorite. What I’ve come to realize is that, on top of the stress everyone feels during these periods, the amount of movement, people to keep track of, lights, sounds, and everything else that comes with these moments is extra taxing on my mind. I more easily become overwhelmed and stressed. In mountain biking, outside of the start, while there is a lot coming at you, there are not the same outside elements of hundreds of other people moving around like in a washing machine.

Even packet pickup is extra stressful for me. The noises, sights, sounds, and numerous people all add up to too much for my brain to handle. The myriad of social interactions during these periods slowly drains energy from me as my camouflaging instincts kick in. Pre-race nerves are combined with overstimulation and camouflaging to create a sometimes nasty mix of fatigue and stress.

All in all, ASD makes these situations quite difficult.

Diagnosis

After reading Maddy’s piece and realizing I fit most of the stereotypes of having ASD 1, I decided to take an online version of an ASD test (the AQ test). I scored 37. The threshold is 26, and the average male with high-functioning ASD scores 35. It’s not a Buzzfeed quiz, but it’s also not proof you have ASD. I decided to look into actually getting assessed. Neuropsych testing is the gold standard, but it is also far more complex and potentially not covered by insurance. Getting assessed by a psychologist focused on autism diagnoses made the most sense. This involved an intake form completed by myself, one completed by a friend, and then two ninety-minute meetings with the psychologist, during which I was asked a very wide variety of questions about my personality, habits, childhood, social behaviors, and more. At the end of this, there was a third meeting to go over her assessment.

The reality is I’ve sort of figured for a long time that I have ASD. I fit most of the general traits that go along with it. I guess I just never really had a reason to get checked for it. My mentality was: what does it change?

Without Maddy’s piece and EF rider Harry Sweeny’s interview disclosing his diagnosis (the first current WorldTour pro to be publicly diagnosed), I probably wouldn’t have gotten assessed. The main reason for me to do it now is that it just is good to know. As odd as that sounds, knowing that you have something helps to explain things, like why I am ok riding stupidly long hours alone or focusing so hard on my goals, or why I can’t stand most social situations but perform better in the “parallel play” of cycling.

The road forward

What am I going to do with this new knowledge that I am neurodivergent? Well, as I’m learning, there are a lot of ways it could help me.

Many of you know I work with a sports psychologist, Dr. Sarah Mitchell of Enso Mental Performance. In the last couple of weeks, she has been instrumental in helping me work through first my thoughts on the whole process and then, once I was diagnosed, how that felt. She also highlighted that it would be very advantageous to help me focus my energy in ways that suit my mind’s way of working the best and protect myself from situations that I will struggle with. This could have a huge impact on my racing.

As Harry Sweeny said in his interview in Escape Collective earlier this year: “the way I see it is that having autism is more of a strength than a weakness, especially the hyperfocus, motivation, and problem solving.” I also think it can be a strength for elite cyclists.

How ASD could aid an endurance athlete:

• singular focus and routine

• being ok with being alone for a long time in training and racing

• motivation

The drawbacks of ASD for an athlete:

• being overwhelmed by in-race chaos – this provides too much stimulation for my brain

• pre-race situations with many people and interactions can be stressful and provide too much stimulation

• constant changes in routine when traveling to races are stressful and overwhelming

As Sweeny pointed out, there’s a good likelihood that a lot of other cyclists are on the spectrum – a lot more than are diagnosed. The nature of the sport draws in people with similar minds because it suits their way of operating.

I really don’t think this changes much for me. After all, I’m the same person I was two weeks ago. That being said, the knowledge of this diagnosis gives me all the more reason to work to minimize what will negatively impact me and maximize the strengths that ASD 1 can give me in cycling and life outside of sport.