Presence Over Comparison: What Doom Taught Me About Where True Strength Lives
- Charlotte Backus
- Feb 23
- 6 min read
A few days ago, the official Doom documentary was released, and watching it brought me back into moments that I had not fully understood until now. The film follows six racers as they attempt to complete one of the most grueling bikepacking races in the United States, capturing not only the terrain and conditions but the internal journeys unfolding within each of us.
You can watch the full documentary here: 👇
Seeing those scenes again made me realize something deeper than finishing, placement, or performance. It made me realize how much of that experience was not about becoming stronger in the way we typically define strength, but about learning to be fully present in a way I never had before. It reminded me how easily our minds fall into comparison, constantly looking backward at who we used to be or forward at who we think we should become, while missing the only place where life, growth, and power actually exist: right here, in the present moment.
Doom was my first solo ultra bikepacking race, spanning 408 miles and climbing over 44,000 feet of elevation through rugged, unpredictable, wet, and relentlessly cold terrain. There was no team car waiting behind me, no one handing me bottles when I needed them, no one fixing mechanicals when something broke, and no one telling me what decision to make next. There was only me, the bike, the trail beneath my tires, and the quiet unfolding of a version of myself I had never met before. At the start, my mind was filled with comparison, questioning whether I belonged in that space, whether I had enough experience, whether I was strong enough, and whether I was capable of finishing something so vast and uncertain. My brain searched for familiar reference points, reaching into past fitness, past success, and past identity, hoping to find reassurance, but ultra racing has a way of removing certainty entirely. It strips away the illusion of control and forces you into the present moment because the terrain demands your full awareness. There is no room for distraction when every pedal stroke matters, when every decision affects your survival, and when the environment constantly shifts beneath you.
Out there, nature does not care who you used to be. It does not care about your past results, your previous strength, or the expectations you once held for yourself. Nature responds only to who you are right now. The rain fell steadily, soaking everything without hesitation, while the mud slowed forward progress and the cold penetrated every layer I wore. The terrain constantly changed, forcing me to adapt with each passing mile, and slowly something inside me began to change as well. Comparison stopped mattering, not because I forced it away, but because it had no role in helping me move forward. Comparison could not turn the pedals, could not keep me warm, and could not carry me through the night. Presence could. Every decision became immediate and essential, whether it was remembering to eat before energy dropped too low, to drink before dehydration set in, to shift gears to protect my legs, or simply to continue moving despite discomfort. My brain stopped wandering into the past or projecting into the future, and instead became fully absorbed in what was happening right in front of me.
This is where growth actually happens. Growth does not happen in the past, nor in imagined futures. Growth happens at the edge of your current capacity, and that edge only exists in the present moment. In performance psychology, this state is often referred to as flow, in which attention becomes fully immersed in the task at hand, and the brain quiets its constant self-evaluation. When athletes enter this state, movement becomes more efficient, effort feels more manageable, and energy becomes more accessible because it is no longer being wasted on internal resistance or doubt. Flow cannot coexist with comparison because comparison pulls your mind away from reality and places it elsewhere, disconnected from the experience your body is navigating. Presence anchors you in reality, and it is there that adaptation, resilience, and transformation occur.
There were moments during Doom where everything hurt, where the cold reached deeper than comfort, where sleep deprivation blurred the edges of awareness, and where progress felt painfully slow. In those moments, there was no value in thinking about the past or the finish line or anyone else. Only the next pedal stroke mattered. Only the next breath mattered. Only the next moment mattered. And within those moments, comparison disappeared, replaced naturally by presence. Presence is not something you force into existence. It is something that emerges when everything unnecessary falls away.
Nature plays a profound role in grounding us. When you ride through forests, mountains, and open landscapes, your nervous system begins to regulate itself. The noise of daily life fades, and the brain quiets its constant narrative. The rhythm of pedaling, the sound of tires moving across dirt, and the sensation of moving through space reconnect you with something deeper and more fundamental. Cycling becomes more than exercise. It becomes a return to yourself. It becomes a reminder that you do not need to compare yourself to anyone else to belong here.
One of the most powerful realizations from Doom was the shared humanity among riders. Everyone was navigating their own internal battles, their own doubts, their own fears, and their own moments of resilience. And yet, there was deep respect and quiet connection among all of us. The cycling community exists beyond comparison because, at its core, it is built on shared presence. We are not defined by numbers, placements, or outcomes, but by the willingness to show up and move forward. Presence creates connection, while comparison creates separation.
One of the hardest comparisons we face is not with others, but with our past selves. It is easy to hold onto the identity of who we used to be, believing that version of ourselves defines our worth or capability. But that version of you existed to bring you here, not to trap you in the past, but to evolve you into something new. Growth requires meeting yourself exactly where you are, not where you were or where you think you should be. This is where resilience is built and new strength emerges.
Watching the documentary reminded me that presence is what carried me through Doom. It was not certainty or confidence that sustained me, but the willingness to remain present in each moment as it unfolded. Presence allowed me to keep moving when things were difficult. Presence allowed me to finish when the outcome was uncertain. Presence allowed me to discover a strength that comparison would have never revealed. And that strength exists within every one of you, too. Not in who you used to be. Not in who someone else is. But in who you are right now. Right here. In this moment. That is where your power lives.
Coach Charlotte’s Portable Coconut-Maple Rice Cakes (Perfect for Long Rides)
These rice cakes are one of the most reliable, efficient, and satisfying portable fuels you can carry during long rides or bikepacking adventures. They provide fast-absorbing carbohydrates, are easy on the gut, and deliver sustained energy without relying on packaged gels.
Ingredients
2 cups uncooked jasmine rice
2 ½ cups water
3 tablespoons maple syrup
2 tablespoons coconut sugar or brown sugar
½ teaspoon sea salt
½ cup full-fat coconut milk
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
Optional additions: shredded coconut, chopped dates, or mashed banana
Instructions
Cook the jasmine rice in water until it becomes slightly softer and stickier than normal, as this helps it bind together. Once cooked, transfer the rice into a large mixing bowl while still warm, and immediately stir in the maple syrup, coconut sugar, sea salt, coconut milk, and vanilla extract. Mix thoroughly until everything is evenly combined and the texture becomes thick and cohesive.
Press the mixture firmly into a parchment-lined baking dish, compressing it tightly so it forms a dense, uniform layer. Allow it to cool completely in the refrigerator for at least 2–3 hours, or overnight if possible, so it firms into a portable texture. Once chilled, cut into squares or rectangles and wrap individually in parchment paper or foil.
Why these work so well physiologically
The rice provides fast-absorbing glucose to fuel working muscles, while the coconut milk adds a small amount of fat to stabilize energy release and improve satiety. The sodium helps maintain fluid balance and supports nerve and muscle function, especially during long endurance efforts. The soft texture makes them easy to chew and digest, even at higher intensities.
These rice cakes become more than just fuel. They become something you carry with you, something you rely on, something that sustains forward motion. Just like presence itself, they remind you that strength is built one moment, one pedal stroke, and one decision at a time.
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