Payson McElveen is one of those multi-hyphen marvels. He races bikes, but he also makes his own podcast. He’s a top competitor in the Lifetime GP, but also creates films with Red Bull about his FKT exploits.
At 31, he’s been a privateer for over a decade. At least, it’s been about that long since someone first applied that label to him.
“I think that article was the first time I’d seen the term used,” he remembers.
The article in question was published by a news site, announcing the creation of Payson’s own racing programme in 2014.
Back then, privateering wasn’t well-known. It certainly didn’t carry the same aspirational quality that it does today.
“One of the craziest things is I remember in 2014, at times feeling genuine shame when I rolled up to an event and I was the one person getting gridded up who wasn't on a team.”
McElveen’s move to set up his own thing was more necessity, than strategy. He just wasn’t getting offered a spot on a factory team to race mountain bikes.
“There was definitely some serendipity involved,” he says. “I think there's this misconception that there was a grand scheme or like a blueprint. That I somehow knew stuff about how things were going to play out earlier than others. And that's just so not the case.”
Perhaps the best way to describe it is that McElveen has surfed on a wave of success.
He was in the right place, just as gravel started booming. Not only that, he was able to experience races like Unbound two or three years before they were brought to international attention.
“This off-road racing, mass participation explosion came to me at a time that was really fortuitous. In my early 20s, I was like any other cross-country mountain bike kiddo that wanted to chase the World Cup and go to the Olympics and all that sort of thing.”
The jump from cross-country MTB to gravel racing is not that big, really. Leadville provided a gateway, and a confluence of other factors encouraged him to step through the door.
“The sponsors and just sort of my interests and everything started gradually nudging me towards longer distance stuff, because of that success. And that's how Leadville happened. And then gravel and everything else just started to unfold from there.”
Payson is quick to point out that he was by no means the only person to take this path.
“I really want to be careful here and not lead you to believe that I think that I was ‘the first’ or anything like that.”
He returns to the image of himself as a newly-minted, 21-year-old privateer.
“There were plenty of years where I really, really wasn't sure if I was going to fit in at all. I feel really lucky that I wound up where I have a solid place in the sport. If I could go back, I would tell early 20s me that not only is this okay and you're doing the right thing, but soon this will be the way.”
While he accepts that these days he’s an established face on the scene, he also seems wary of slipping into the trap of gatekeeping gravel.
“I think there was a period of time where as racers, as we started to see the professional aspect increase and the sport go more global, some of the elite US racers almost tried to get a little bit possessive of it. Like, trying to define gravel and be like, ‘no, this is gravel,’ ‘this sort of gravel is better,’ ‘let's remember this’. And I maybe got sucked into that a little bit too.”
As the old adage goes, sometimes when you love a thing you need to let it go.
“I tried to quickly realise that that probably wasn't my job – and also maybe not the best thing for the sport. By far and away the best thing about gravel is just its diversity and breadth and global reach. It’s like a cauldron.”
It’s true to say that McElveen is one of the more recognisable stars of the gravel scene. A combined result of his athletic performances and the huge extra spotlight that his position as a Red Bull athlete garners. And it’s surely not harmed by that luxuriant moustache of his. It’s almost trademark-worthy at this stage.
All that notwithstanding, plenty of people have no idea who he is. Including fellow participants at big weekend events like Unbound or Sea Otter.
“I love it when I have an encounter in the expo or something, and you bump into someone who just needs help. Just person to person. They're like, ‘Hey, do you know where registration is?’ They don't have the faintest idea who I am. ‘Are you doing the 100 or the 50 or the 200?’ I love those moments where you can just be another participant.”
Payson credits the launch of the Lifetime GP with rejuvenating his competitive zeal over the past three seasons. But it’s interesting to note the tension between his enjoyment of being ‘just another face in the crowd’ and the increased, season-long pressure that the Grand Prix format creates.
In April, just after we speak, he crashes in the feed zone at Sea Otter, the opening round of the 2025 GP. He expresses his frustration on Instagram: “This DNF affects the whole season, not just the one day.”
But even with the occasional lows, the format is something that fills him with a fire to keep riding his bike.
“As I said in another interview recently, you know, I wake up and feel to train and do my training and live for training – and love that more than anything.”
This is something of a reversal. After launching his podcast, With Pace (formerly known as The Adventure Stache), six years ago, about three years into the journey he says it really began to take over.
“I think at times that stuff got dangerously close to being equal to the racing.
“The professional payoff is much more controllable and direct. So like if you put in a 12 hour day of work making something on the media side, if it's good and you know what you're doing, at the end of the day, it almost directly has value.
“With training, you can beat your head against the wall for six months and not get any results for any number of reasons.”
The predictability of that reward-to-effort ratio was seductive.
“I got a little bit charmed by that. I don't want to say I lost my way, That’s way too strong, but I just wasn't emphasising the racing and the training quite as much as I could have.
“And then with this Grand Prix coming into the picture, it was and is so exciting and motivating for me as a challenge and a format.”
Nevertheless, the podcast is a positive force in his life. It has taken him to some cool places, led to some fascinating conversations and is also a chance to work side-by-side with his wife, Nichole, and sister, Lily.
“Again, there's no grand scheme. We're just sort of following our passions and curiosities. And I say ‘we’ over and over again here because it's a joint project.”
In fact, it’s the focus on his and his family’s interests that makes the podcast such an engaging listen.
“From a selfish perspective, this is all for me. I ask the questions that interest me and we approach the guests we want to speak to. I don’t think you can be a good interviewer if you aren’t inherently curious.”
His first guest ever? Reggie Miller the former NBA star turned cycling evangelist. The interview took place in MIller’s home.
“I was just sitting across the table from this guy whose basketball card I've had since I was eight years old. And he was all mine. It was just the two of us. And I could ask him whatever I wanted, and he was taking me seriously.
“I was just like, ‘if this is what podcasting is like, I'm so in’.”
Back in February, McElveen got sick before his intended season-opener and had to replan. Petr Vakoc invited him to sign up for Sahara Gravel, a race in Morocco.
“We decided a week out to go. Bought last minute flights and went down there. And it was one of the most fulfilling race experiences I've had in years.”
Although the field was overall smaller, and also contained fewer of the sport’s top names than he might ordinarily line up against, this ended up being a strength not a weakness.
“It was just so fun,” he says. “A perfect combination of travel and cultural experience and really hard racing. We had ten really strong pros. We knew exactly who the lead group was going to be every day. And it was just a bloodbath of competition.”
It was all smiles round the campfire after each stage, Payson says, with the more intimate scale leading to a general sense of camaraderie.
“If this continues to exist,” he remembers thinking. “And continues to be relevant, with ten of the top 50 or 100 racers in the world showing up to events like this. If we can continue to make smaller events relevant, and make it so that sponsors feel like it's worth their support. If I can keep doing that, I could race for another ten years.”
